Page 66 of Dante

“Gina, would you please come up and say a few words?” Smith asks.

I glance at Dante. His expression is unreadable, but he gives me a slight nod.

I force myself to walk to the front.

“Hello, everyone,” I say, offering a small wave. I take a breath, steadying myself.

“I’ve studied caricature art most of my life. The goal of this art form is to take the most distinctive element of a person’s appearance or personality and exaggerate it to capture what makes them recognizable. Silvio Ricci was an excellent subject, and he accepted my sketch in the spirit it was intended, with humor and grace. I am honored that my work now hangs beside that of your great ancestor.”

Applause ripples through the room once again.

When I turn to leave the podium, Robert Smith stops me. With him is a distinguished-looking man in a blue blazer who wears his long grey hair in a ponytail.

“Mrs. Ricci, I’d like to introduce you to Professor Irving Washington. Irving, this is the young woman I told you about earlier.”

“Pleased to meet you,” I say politely, though I recognize his name and image from somewhere. Possibly one of my art courses. What can this all be about?

“Mrs. Ricci, as soon as your uncle Silvio showed me your caricature, I was struck by your sketching ability. You have exceptional talent. Where have you studied?”

“I never studied caricature art in a formal way, though I do have a diploma in art history from UC Irvine. I’m self-taught. Why?”

“Your husband mentioned that you’re keen on attending the Academy of Visual Arts,” says Robert Smith. “Professor Washington teaches there, and I’m on the board. If you’re still interested, we’d be happy to have you enroll in a special program we offer for graduate students.”

Dante remembered?

I search for Dante in the crowd. All this time I thought he was ignoring me, he was really considering my request.

“I’m overwhelmed,” I tell them. “I don’t know what to say. Do I need to take an entrance exam? Send my UC Irvine transcript?”

“Nothing of the kind, my dear,” says Professor Washington. “If you accept our offer, you’ll be placed in a special program. Graduate students work on a class project with ‘real world’ applications.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that the Academy of Visual Arts prides itself on having graduate students leave the institution with practical experience. You’ll choose a project, and I’ll be your advisor throughout the semester. Interested?”

“Oh, yes!”

“Good,” says Professor Washington, taking a card from his pocket. “Call me. We’ll set up a time to meet next week. I’ll arrange for a student to give you a tour before we get together.”

“Thanks so much, Mr. Smith, Professor Washington,” I say, accepting the card with a nod as I take my leave of them.

Angie was right. Dante does love me, he just has a quiet way of showing his affection.

I weave through the crowd to get to him. “Dante, thank you so much,” I say, taking his hand. “I was just offered the opportunity to attend the Academy of Visual Arts. And I know it’s all your doing.”

“You deserve it,” he says, his iceberg expression melting slightly as he squeezes my hand.

I look around us, ensuring that what I want to ask about his “declaration of war” won’t be overheard.

But before I can pose the question, he excuses himself to speak to a group of men.

I’m still thinking about that when someone bumps my shoulder.

“Congratulations, Gina,” says Lorenzo. “Your portrait is amazing. Who knew I’d have such a talented sister-in-law?”

“Thanks.” I try to force a smile, but Lorenzo doesn’t buy it.

“You don’t seem entirely thrilled,” he notes.