Page 33 of The Thief

Signora Sabatino is thrownby my unexpected arrival but does her best to take it in stride. She spends a few minutes fawning over me, and when I express my desire for a tour, she personally escorts me to the chief curator’s office. “Dottore Garzolo will be a much better guide than me,” she admits with a rueful laugh. “My background is in fundraising, and my knowledge of early Venetian art is regrettably quite limited.”

We’re on our way to Dottore Garzolo’s office when I spot Lucia. She’s walking in my direction, in intense conversation with a limping older man. Signora Sabatino beams when she sees them. “Ah, Nicolo, there you are. I was just on my way to your office. Signor Moretti, may I introduce you to Dottore Nicolo Garzolo?” She searches her memory for Lucia’s name before adding, “And our newest assistant curator, Lucia Petrucci.”

Lucia’s head snaps up at the mention of my name, and when she sees me, her eyes go very wide.

Did you think you’d get away with it, my little thief?

“Dottore Garzolo,” the director continues. “This is Signor Antonio Moretti, one of our most generous benefactors. He has expressed a desire to tour our museum.”

The chief curator shakes my hand effusively. “I’d be happy to show you around, Signor Moretti.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you, Dottore.” I give him a warmly concerned smile. “Your leg appears to be bothering you, and I wouldn’t want to make it worse.” I turn to Lucia. “Perhaps Signoria Petrucci would be kind enough to give me a tour instead.”

Lucia looks like she wants to strangle me, but her voice is pure sweetness when she replies. “I would be delighted.”

I wait as Signora Sabatino and Nicolo Garzolo pull Lucia aside, presumably to impress upon her that I am very important and that she should treat me accordingly. Signora Sabatino even offers to tour the museum with us, but I shut that down. “It’s not necessary,” I tell her firmly. “I’m sure you have plenty to do. I’ll be perfectly fine in Signorina Petrucci’s capable hands.”

The director nods reluctantly and leaves with Dottore Garzolo. As soon as they’re out of earshot, Lucia whirls toward me, her eyes sparkling with fury. “What are you doing here?” she demands. “Are you stalking me? Is this all a big joke to you?”

Her green eyes glitter like emeralds when she’s angry, yet I find myself drinking the sight of her in. “Tsk, tsk. Didn’t your bosses tell you to be nice to me?”

She snorts. “You already know the answer to that,” she says disgustedly. “I’m supposed to do anything to make you happy. How much money do you give the Palazzo, anyway?”

“Fifteen million euros so far this year.”

Her mouth falls open. “What? But that’s almost twenty percent of our operating budget. Then again, you did steal one of our paintings. Is the large donation a way to soothe your guilt?”

“I don’t have time for guilt,” I reply. “Want to show me around? Let’s start with the forged Titian that you took from the storage facility in Mestre yesterday.”

“Oh,” she replies. “That.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” I take her by the elbow and steer her toward a gallery. “I seem to remember warning you not to steal from me, Lucia. And yet, here we are.”

“I didn’t steal from you,” she replies immediately, defiant as always. “I stole from Daniel Rossi. As far as I’m concerned, you have nothing to complain about.”

My lips twitch. “But you don’t make the rules, tesoro.Ido. I told you not to steal in Venice, and you defied me. And now you’ll have to face the consequences of that decision.” I smile at her. “Go ahead. Show me around.”

“What do you want to see?”

“The Illuminated Manuscripts exhibit opens next week, doesn’t it? Can I get a sneak peek?”

She looks surprised that I know about the upcoming exhibit. “Of course you can,” she replies sourly. “I’ve been instructed that the entire museum is at your disposal. Why that exhibit? Are you hoping to steal a 16th-century Bible?”

I laugh. “Not today.” Sunbeams bisect the passageway, shining through graceful arches with views of the piazza below, reminding me that Lucia is back in Venice after a very long time. Entertaining as our back-and-forth banter is, I also want to get to know the woman underneath. “I forgot to ask you on Sunday how you’re liking your new job.”

“It’s fine.”

She doesn’t sound terribly enthusiastic. I give her a sharp look. “Is someone giving you a hard time at work?”

“No, no. Like I said, the job’s fine. Being back in Venice, though. . .” Her voice trails off into a sigh. “It’s harder than I thought it would be. I think I’m okay, then I’ll turn a corner and stumble upon the park my mother used to take me to when I was a child. Or I’ll take a shortcut back home and walk onto the street where my dad taught me how to cycle.” She takes a deep breath. “I should have stayed away.”

I have that feeling in my chest again, that tight squeeze I felt when I watched her cry at her parents’ graves. I want to comfort her, but I don’t know what to say. Any words of comfort I could offer feel trite compared to the magnitude of her loss.

My silence doesn’t seem to bother her. “You told me you didn’t know your parents. When I’m having an especially bad day, I wonder if it would have been better that way. If I didn’t have memories of them. . .”

Time hasn’t yet managed to erase the bleakness in her eyes. I usually avoid talking about my past, but today, it’s better than watching her suffer. “You were loved, Lucia,” I say harshly. “Your mother taking you to the park, your father teaching you to ride a bike. The memories you have are good ones, do you understand? I have none of those. I was abandoned in Il Redentore as a baby. Trust me on this: you don’t want my life.”

The Chiesa del Santissimo Redentore—Il Redentore as it’s called—is in Giudecca, a five-minute walk from my house. Lucia knows the church’s location because her expression softens. “Is that why you live on Giudecca?” she asks gently. “Because it’s where you were found?”

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