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"Did you ever talk to her about it?"
"Oh, no.It wasn't my place.I was trying to be a good daughter-in-law, and I didn't want to get in the middle."
She could say that her grandmother never wanted to get in the middle, even when she should, but she wouldn't let those words come out.Because no matter how little she'd done before, Gloria had come to help her when she needed her the most, and maybe she shouldn't be like her grandfather and judge everyone so harshly.
"Anyway, Lucinda and Tomas are long gone," Gloria said."It doesn't matter anymore."
"But their story could be important to what is happening now.They died together in a fire and their paintings were stolen at the same time.That doesn't feel like a coincidence.We need to find out everything we can about their relationship."
"I don't know, Isabella.I want to protect our family legacy, not destroy it.The Rossi family took me in when I married Paolo.Lucinda treated me like a daughter, and I loved her.She was the artist I had imagined myself to be, but never was.She lived out her dreams.I gave mine up.I don't regret that because I had a husband and a daughter and then a beautiful granddaughter.But I always admired her.And I wouldn't want to tarnish her reputation.I know you feel distanced from the family, but I still have a sister-in-law, a brother-in-law, nieces and nephews and grand-nieces and grand-nephews.They wouldn't want me to hurt the family."
The mention of all those family members who had never been part of her life only made her feel sad and bitter.It also made her wonder where they were now.Why hadn't any of them come rushing to see if her grandmother was all right?"Have you spoken to any of our extended family members about the robbery?"
"I spoke to Victor, my nephew, yesterday.His parents have been in ill health, so he didn't want to trouble them with the news.He was concerned and worried about me.He's been in Paris the last few days.He said he'll be back tomorrow, and he'll stop by with his daughter, Joelle.She would be your second cousin.Joelle is a jewelry designer and is very creative.When I saw her at Christmas, she asked me about Lucinda's work, wondering if I had any of her art tucked away somewhere.That got me thinking, and that's when I looked through the things I'd brought from my apartment and stuck in the attic."
"Did you tell her you found the painting?"
"I left her a message last week, but she was out of town with her father.She called me a few days ago and said she couldn't wait to see it when she got home."
"So, she knew you put it in the exhibition?"
"Yes, she was delighted.So was Victor.They believed it was a nice tribute to Lucinda's talent.I feel even worse now that the painting is gone because Joelle may never get to see it."
She hadn't thought she was interested in meeting any of the extended family until now.It seemed somewhat coincidental that Joelle would have suddenly become interested in Lucinda's work, although the woman was an artist.Maybe she had just been looking for inspiration.
"We should go downstairs," her grandmother added as she got to her feet."Dinner must be nearly ready.Anna is making a feast.I hope you're hungry."
"I am," she said as she stood up.But as they went downstairs, she felt hungrier for information than for food.
She'd come to Rome thinking her grandmother had gotten caught up in a random robbery, but now it felt personal, which was an odd feeling.She'd grown up hating the Rossi family for not accepting her or her mother, but now she wanted to know more about every one of them.
ChapterFive
Nick woke up Friday morning, feeling markedly better than he had the night before, when, after a delicious but very heavy dinner, he'd slept twelve straight hours.He'd needed the rest, but now he was ready to get to work.
After a long, hot shower, he changed into dark jeans and a blue polo shirt.Then he walked downstairs to the kitchen.There wasn’t anyone around, but there was coffee in the pot and pastries on the table, so he filled a mug, grabbed a croissant, and sat down to eat.
As he ate, he checked his phone and saw a message from Flynn, suggesting he contact Francesca Ribaldi, an art historian in Rome, who he had worked with when he was assigned to art crimes several years earlier.She might be able to figure out the value of the paintings and why they had been targeted.
He immediately punched in the number that Flynn had given him, but after several rings, it went to voicemail.He left a quick message using Flynn's name and asked Francesca to call him back.As he set down the phone, Isabella entered the kitchen.
She looked refreshed as well, her dark hair loose around her shoulders, her brown eyes alert, and her skin practically glowing.She was dressed in jeans with a cream-colored sweater over a white tank top.She hesitated when she saw him at the table, but then she moved forward, carrying an oversized pad in one hand.
"What do you have there?"he asked.
"Lucinda's sketch book.My grandmother pulled it out of the attic a few minutes ago."Isabella opened to the first page, and he could see a fairly detailed pencil sketch.
"That looks better than a rough drawing," he said.
"It's very good," she murmured, her gaze perusing the page."It also feels vaguely familiar.I want to say I've seen this before, but I don't know where."She turned the page and looked at the next sketch."This one is rough," she said, giving him a quick look at a sketch that seemed to be part of a face but hadn't been completed.
Isabella moved through several more pages without comment, and he sipped his coffee, wondering how the sketches could help them.They belonged to Isabella's great-grandmother, but they weren't paintings; they weren't valuable.And they already knew Lucinda was an artist.Maybe Isabella was just interested in the work because Lucinda was her great-grandmother.
"Do you know much about Lucinda?"he asked.
"No."
"Your grandmother didn't tell you about her, or maybe your mother?"
