***
Rose raced to the market, bought a chicken and some vegetables and kept moving. Checking her watch, she realized that fifteen minutes had passed. She looked over and saw a leather stand and bartered to buy a tan leather tote for twenty euros. Practically jogging to Lyon’s office, she was out of breath when she got there. Lyon rose from his desk and hugged her.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes and no. Can you do me a huge favor?”
“Sure. Anything.”
“I need something, anything that I can roll. I’ll explain later.”
Lyon opened up his filing cabinet and pulled out some old documents, sifting through them quickly.
“Would this work?”
“Not really. What else do you have?”
Rose spotted some older, darker-looking prints of architectural plans. Hopefully, the age spots would be the first thing anyone noticed. The bag switch idea was something she wasn’t proud of, but her instincts demanded that she protect the drawings. “How about I borrow those from you? How soon do you need them back?”
“You can have them as long as you wish. They belonged to my predecessor here and I never got around to throwing them away.”
He handed the scaled drawings to her, and she immediately rolled them up and placed them in her bag. Then, she quickly handed Lyon her tote bag.
“Can you hang on to this for me? It would be really helpful.”
“Should I ask why?”
“Not really,” she replied. “Just keep them in a safe place.”
He raised one eyebrow, but asked no questions.
“Thanks!” she said breathlessly, gathering her groceries and heading back to meet Ben at her apartment. “I’ll be in touch.”
“I’m here if you need me.”
“I really appreciate that.”
“I was hoping to take you to Fuor D’Acqua before your American friend came to visit,” he said.
“He leaves in a few days.”
“Good,” said Lyon. “And now I have something of yours.”
“Yes, you do, and your help means the world to me,” said Rose, studying his handsome face. She knew instinctively that she could trust him.
“Very good then. You can come and get your tote bag anytime!”
Rose tried to tamp down her disappointment in Ben. He seemed to care only about the value of the drawings instead of their artistic significance. Had Wall Street changed him? Rose decided to follow her instincts. Something troubled her about Paul and his assessment. He seemed too flippant and dismissive. Ben may trust Paul’s expertise, but I don’t, she thought. The man seemed too sure of himself.
When she got a free moment, Rose decided that she would send Beatrice a picture of the drawing of intertwined hands. Perhaps she could offer some guidance. In the meantime, Rose would spend the next twenty-four hours focusing on Ben and their relationship. The time ticked by in a haze of passion.
***
“You have no idea how much I’m going to miss you,” Ben said, taking her into his arms.
“I feel like you just got here!”
“Me too. This has been an amazing few days. I’ve loved every minute of it, and I love—”
“Don’t say anymore,” said Rose as they held each other close.
Ben held her in his arms, scanning the apartment once more. “This place is great. You really did well. The view and the location are outstanding. I wish I didn’t have to go.”
“Me either,” said Rose, kissing him again.
Ben’s iPhone buzzed, indicating that the driver he had hired to take him to the airport had arrived. A feeling of sadness swept over Rose as she kissed him goodbye.
“Please let me know when you land safely back in the States.”
“Will do,” he said as he pulled away, throwing his bag over his shoulder.
Hours later, Rose couldn’t stand it anymore. She walked to the wardrobe where she had hidden the drawings to peer inside for her lookalike tote bag. It was gone. Ben, Ben, Ben. Why?
Chapter 11
RIGHT AFTER SHE HIT send on her email to Beatrice, Rose received an enthusiastic response, which was the surge of optimism she needed to hear. She was still devastated that Ben had stolen the decoy drawings she’d borrowed from Lyon. Before another round of anger took hold, Rose gave Beatrice a call.
“I’d be happy to show them to you. They would need a lot of work, but I’m convinced they tell a story.”
“Based on your photographs, they look interesting and, frankly, very few artists could draw such an accurate representation of Michelangelo’s the Creation of Adam; I can use new technology in the lab to see through the mold. We could use some modern technology to test the paper and try to determine its age, then work through the mold. Hard to believe that you found a piece of history in the walls of your new home!”
“I agree. I’m still trying to understand what happened. I wonder if I could be so bold as to ask to be part of this process? I mean, I would love to learn more about what you do.”
“I’d have to get permission but, after all, you found them, so I think it should be fine. We do have contacts in Florence, but I wonder if you would allow me to show these to Cardinal Baglioni, who is a close friend. I trust him completely.”
“Please do, and let me know how you want to proceed.”
“Will do.”
Ben sent her a text that evening when he had landed in New York. He signed it, Yours forever, Ben. Rose’s heart skipped a beat, and suddenly she felt physically sick. Clearly, he hadn’t checked inside the tote bag yet to find that she had switched the drawings. A part of her wondered if his intent had been positive. What if she had made the biggest mistake of her life? Would he ever forgive her for not trusting him? After all, he had come to Florence to see her before he knew the drawings existed. Perhaps he took them to have further research done.
Ben may be a businessman and profit oriented, but is he really a thief?
After a series of emails back and forth, Beatrice asked Rose to come to Rome to show the cardinal the drawings before the week was out.
The workers should finish up in a couple days. When they do, I’ll make the trip, Rose wrote.
In the meantime, Rose figured she better get working on her painting, which was the reason why, or so she thought, she had come to Florence. Soon after the workers arrived to finish up her kitchen, she grabbed her sketchbook and headed back to the Uffizi to find inspiration. Signs and symbols of the powerful Medici family surrounded her as she made her way there.
At the forefront of the Renaissance in Florence was Italian statesman Lorenzo de’ Medici, who was also a major collector and patron of the arts. Many of his contemporaries called him Lorenzo the Magnificent because of his power and influence on the politics, art, culture, trade and essentially all aspects of Florentine culture. Studying the museum map, Rose took the stairs two at a time as she went in search of a Medici portrait by Agnolo Bronzino that had been one of her favorites. It was of Bea Medici, whose intricately woven gown and earrings were stunning. There was an almost mythical quality to the portrait that made Rose want to try to recreate the precise lines of this work. She was consumed by the gold braid in the front and the elegant jewels she wore.
She opened her sketchbook and her breath caught in her throat. On the page was a drawing she had done of Ben’s profile as he looked out at the view from her balcony. Her rendering had caught the tiny lines by his eyes, his strong intelligent forehead and hint of a smile. Tears stung her eyes as she thought about him. The past few days had been magical, and she had dared hope that they had a future together. It’s all so strange, she thought, as she caught sight of the Medici princess in front of her. Bea’s beautiful angular face seemed to jump off the canvas.
Rose spent the next few hours trying to capture the essence of the painting but make
it her own. She shaded and drew until the museum closed. Her flurry of drawing and painting continued on for the next few days, proving cathartic.
***
Before heading to Rome, Rose met Lyon at his office to fetch her tote bag with the sketches.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he asked as he unlocked the file cabinet and handed her the tote.
“You’re not going to believe this, but I found these drawings in the wall during my renovations last week and they are rather mysterious. I’m heading to the Vatican tomorrow to see a conservator friend. She knows a cardinal there who can help. I hope they might tell me something about them. A representative from Christie’s looked at them and said they are too moldy and dirty to salvage. But I disagree.”
“That’s so fantastic, Rose. May I see them?”
“Sure,” she said, unrolling the parchment to reveal the three images.
“Why would anyone not want to salvage them? At the very least, they are part of history.”
“That’s what I think,” she said. “I knew I liked you.”
“And I like you too.”
“What about Dominique? You seemed to like her too.”
“It’s complicated. We’ve been together for years, but it’s definitely over. I don’t want her to divorce her husband for me.”
“She’s married?”
“She is. And your American boyfriend?”
“Divorced. He has an ex and a two-year-old daughter.” She paused. “We grew up together, but I’m afraid that he has changed too much.”
“That’s great news for me,” Lyon said, looking down at the drawings. “I think the baby and the boy are the same. Look at the shape of the eyes and the hand. There’s a ring on the boy’s finger, which is a sign that his family is part of the ruling class.”
“Oh my goodness, I never picked up on that. Could he possibly be related to the Medici family?”
“Hard to see with all that mold.”
“But the ring could give a clue as to his identity.”
“Absolutely,” said Lyon. “And what have we here? It’s the most iconic image in Italy drawn a different way. Now, that’s really interesting.”
Rose felt a surge of excitement. “I thought so too. I mean, could it be his?”
“Anything’s possible,” said Lyon. “How’d would you like some company tomorrow on your way to the Vatican? I don’t think you should take these drawings on public transportation. They’re potentially too valuable.”
“But that expert from Christie’s told me they weren’t worth their time.” She paused. “Regardless of the outcome, I think this is an incredibly cool experience!”
“Well, they were either deliberately misleading you or incompetent. Well?”
“Oh, I’d love a ride to Rome tomorrow. Are you sure?”
“I’ll reschedule a couple of appointments and pick you up in the morning.”
“You have no idea how relieved I am right now. Thank you so much for helping me.”
“Ah, Rose, it would be my pleasure to spend the day with you.”
No word from Ben, Rose mused, as she tried to imagine his anger when he realized that she had switched the drawings. Fortunately, exhaustion won out and she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
***
The next morning Lyon showed up as planned.
“Nice car,” she said, eyeing his red Tesla. “I thought all you had was a scooter.”
“It belongs to one of my clients. He said I could borrow it to impress you. Is it working?”
“I’ll bet Cardinal Baglioni will love it,” joked Rose.
“Come on, it’s fast, so he’ll appreciate that I’ll have you to your meeting early.”
He weaved his way through the winding streets of Florence and onto the highway where they made record time to the Holy City. Rose held the tote bag close to her body and hoped that some answers would be forthcoming. She felt strangely calm as she looked over at Lyon’s profile in the driver’s seat. His long, lean hands maneuvered the car with precision, and he had this inner confidence that she liked. As much as she enjoyed his adventurous spirit, Rose knew she could trust him. A small voice warned her that she was nothing like Dominique.
Rose’s heart raced as they were led to the cardinal’s office, adorned with a circular Renaissance painting of the Madonna and child; Rose surmised it was a portrait done by Raphael. The image was striking in its intensity, and the blue of Mother Mary’s robes practically leapt off of the canvas. Rose held the drawings tightly in one hand and gripped Lyon’s hand in the other as they were told to be seated. A short time later, Beatrice arrived with Cardinal Baglioni, who was a tall, elegant man with white hair and a crimson robe.
“Good morning, Miss Maning,” he said, shaking her hand. She introduced him to Lyon and then got down to the business of explaining that she had just relocated to Florence and bought her first home in the Santa Croce neighborhood, and how she discovered the hidden sketches.
“I spent several years teaching art history at a private girls school in Charlottesville, Virginia, so I am very familiar with the artists who were shaping this part of Italy’s history.”
“Well, Rose, if I may, don’t keep us in suspense any longer. Let me see what you’ve uncovered.”
Beatrice helped her unroll the parchments and put them on the table; she had small table weights to hold down the curled edges. She also produced a large magnifying glass with a light so that her hand could highlight each section. The cardinal leaned in to study them beside her, and Rose saw the look of surprise on his face.
“And you found these drawings in the wall?” he asked. “This is incredible!”
He studied the three drawings for several more minutes.
“You may have provided proof to a story that’s been whispered about for centuries.” He looked at Lyon and then Rose. “Who else knows about these?”
“I showed them to a friend who contacted representatives from Christie’s. The man who saw them was unimpressed and said the sketches weren’t worth restoring.”
Cardinal Baglioni shook his head. “They had no idea what they were looking at,” he said. “These renderings are fascinating.”
“Don’t keep me in suspense any longer!”
“Well.” He paused. “I would say at first glance the child in this drawing is the same individual as the boy. And with the fact that they are together with a third drawing, which looks like a scene from the Sistine Chapel, I’m guessing—and this is just a possibility—that these drawings could be associated with a Renaissance artist like our own Michelangelo. But, again, I shouldn’t speculate without proper lab work.”
Beatrice chimed in. “We would use X-rays to determine the type and quality of the parchment paper, do a cleaning process and see what is underneath some of these spots.” She moved her hand to the right. “See the tape on the right side. We’ve had some good luck using a particular gel to dissolve it, which may lead to more answers.”
Cardinal Baglioni stared further at the drawing. “Look at the boy’s ring. He’s definitely of the ruling class. We would have to test the age of the paper to know for sure.”
“Do you think the drawings are connected in some way?”
“I do,” he replied. “I think that the child and the boy are one and the same.” He directed the light and pointed to the brow line and nose.
“So, what about the third drawing?” asked Rose.
“If the parchment is indeed the right age, then, as I said at the outset, there’s a possibility that this could be attributed to a Renaissance artist.”
Rose touched the parchment reverently. “That would be quite a discovery . . . but I won’t get my hopes up.” She studied the three drawings together. “I had a dream about the third drawing, which is why I brought them to you, Cardinal. I felt like they ne
ed to be safeguarded.”
“I completely agree with you, Miss Maning, which is why I don’t feel you should share any information with anyone, and especially do not post anything on social media at this time.”
Lyon, who had been quietly observing the exchange, asked, “Why not?”
“You never know how these things can be construed,” the cardinal said.
“There’s a story here and something you’re not telling us,” Lyon said.
The room was silent for several minutes as the cardinal pondered and rubbed his chin.
“Cardinal,” said Lyon. “Rose is trying to do the right thing and she came to you for answers. You can at least give her the courtesy of your initial thoughts.”
“Given the condition and age of these parchments, I would allow for a level of authenticity here. They’ve been hidden in a wall for a considerable period of time, so I agree with Rose that they seem to tell a story. And one that comes to mind is that the artist gave them to a trusted family member or friend to safeguard.”
“Go on.”
“There have always been rumors that Michelangelo fathered a son who worked for him as an apprentice, but these claims have never been substantiated. Some people have whispered that he fell in love with his patron Lorenzo de Medici’s daughter Contessina when he lived and studied in the palace as a young man. Again, we’ve never heard of anything that would validate such a claim but . . . ” He looked at the first two drawings. “The ring on the boy’s hand is very compelling, but again, we can’t be sure of a relationship that could have led to an illegitimate son. At this point, it’s all conjecture.”
“But perhaps when the material is cleaned and the tape removed we may see some sort of signature.”
“So, these drawings could be the key to a mystery about the great Michelangelo? This is all fascinating and extremely important,” said Rose, trying to contain her excitement. “Think of the historical value!”
“Indeed, that is true,” Cardinal Baglioni said. “But it also could place a negative light on one of the most iconic artists in Italy’s history.”
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