“I’d love to come along,” Marjorie said. “Do I have time?” she asked Giancarlo. “What am I doing this evening?”
I listened attentively, not sure what the plans for the evening were and whether I’d be included or not.
“You’re going to a dinner party on the Constantine’s yacht, the Venus. We’re going out on the Ercole.”
“Right. I forgot.” She turned to Thomas. “I hope you’ll come with me.”
“By all means.”
“He’s the best bodyguard I’ve ever had.” She beamed at the rest of us. “Don’t worry,” she said to Giovanna, “I’ll give him back when all this is over.”
Giovanna simply smiled, a tolerant little smirk. She was condescending and arrogant and I didn’t like her. And I’m not just saying that because she was there with Thomas and evidently they were having a thing of some sort. I wouldn’t have liked her anyway.
“I’m going straight to a massage and a nap,” Sissy said. “Some of us have to work harder at looking beautiful than others.” She kissed Giancarlo briskly on each cheek. “Thank you so much for a beautiful lunch, Gianni. I’ll see you later.” She took my hands. “You, too, Priscilla. Ta-ta, y’all.”
“I’d like to come along on the tour, if I may,” said Thomas.
“Bene,” Lucia smiled. “Let’s begin in the chapel.”
For two hours Lucia led us through a brief history of the villa and its collection, touching only on about ten percent of it in any detail. The collection was so complex, it took that long just to go through the chapel and three other rooms. Thomas and I asked questions incessantly. This sort of thing—tours of art museums and ruins and so forth—was such a mutual passion, it was as though we were trying to communicate with each other secretly, in the only way we could. I was trying to tell him how much I loved him and how innocent I was and how I would consider forgiving him for leaving me if he’d consider absolving me of suspicion and come home. I was sure he was doing the same. We were afraid to stand next to each other, the pull between us, the desire to touch each other, was so strong.
Oh, for heaven’s sake, Kick. Get a grip. I was obviously getting carried away by the romance of the villa. I might have still loved him, but I hadn’t even begun to forgive him and the truth as: If I stood next to him, I was much more likely to slap him silly than fall into his arms.
“This Michelangelo of The Annunciationis extraordinary for a number of reasons,” Lucia said. “Not least of which is that it is still privately owned by the original owner.”
We stood, openmouthed, gazing up at a monumental oil painting. It took our breath away. Light radiated from the Virgin and the Angel—the blue of her robe and white of his gown were translucent, opalescent, from another world.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” I said. I was so caught up in the painting that I didn’t realize how close Giancarlo had gotten to me until I felt something poking my backside.
“Oh!” I jumped about ten feet in the air.
Thank God it turned out to be his hand, pinching my bottom. He winked. I thought Thomas was going to hit him.
I take back what I said about Giancarlo being a braggart and a bon vivant. The fact was: Giancarlo was a jerk. It suddenly became clear: He didn’t have some big secret plan to use me—I was the only one left who’d go out with him.
T H I R T Y - N I N E
Lucia looked at her father and shook her head. “Papa, please.” She was clearly angry. She checked her watch. “Unfortunately, we’d better not do more today—it’s getting late.”
“Is there time for just a quick visit to the Jewelry Room?” I asked. “I’d love to see it.”
“Of course.” Giancarlo tucked my arm through his. “Come with me. Everything’s all locked up in safes. But the guards will show you whatever you want to see.”
“Perfect,” Marjorie said. “I’d love for Priscilla to see the Star.”
“Skating a little close to the edge, are we?” Thomas muttered as we passed. But I ignored him. He stepped aside to let Giovanna move ahead of him, and she bumped into me, brushed past without even excusing herself. I was getting to hate her.
Giancarlo led us down the hall to the closed double doors where there were now two armed guards on duty A panel of lights, presumably for the alarm system, blinked next to the doorway One of the guards opened the doors and after we’d passed through an airport-style security check, we entered a large, window-less reception hall. Antique tapestries draped the paneled walls. Dressing tables stocked with makeup and hair spray rimmed the room and there was a bank of full-length mirrors in the center. Each table had a list of two or three names in large type as to who would be at that particular station to receive her jewelry and a last-minute touch-up. Next to each table sat a rolling jewelry safe, similar to those we used at the auction house, with stacks of drawers and multistep locking systems.
At the end of the room, behind velvet ropes and stanchions, were two more guards sporting the DeBeers LV logo discreetly on the breast pockets of their blazers. Their vault was state-of-the-art, inky gunmetal blue-black with a fingerprint scanner and digital electronic lock. It was a three-foot square cube, had five drawers and was bolted on to a solid block of marble. A spotlight directly above it shone down intensely and gave the whole affair a sort of showy, dramatic James Bond effect.
The place was as fortified as Fort Knox. The Tower of London. I scanned the walls to see if there was any telltale sign of a secret door or panel but if there was, it was invisible. Only one way in and one way out. In my opinion, unless a burglar had a great deal of creativity, skill, and courage, it was unrobbable. Completely burglar-proof. Well, almost.
Giancarlo walked up to the DeBeers guards. ”Buona sera,” he said to them.
“Buona sera.”
I got the impression that Giancarlo had already spent a great deal of time in this room, getting to know everyone. “One last peek, per favore, signores. Per lei signoras.” He shrugged his shoulders and indicated Marjorie, Lucia, Giovanna, and me with outstretched hands as though we poor silly women could not keep ourselves away from the Millennium Star.
The guard smiled. “By all means, Count Giolitti.” He had a precise British accent.
After an efficient drill of unlocking the safe—fingerprint scan, followed by the combinations—they slid open a deep, velvet-lined drawer and lifted out a large dark velvet box, approximately the size of a laptop computer but about five inches deep. One guard held the box while the other undid the small latch and lifted the cover. The guard knew exactly what to do, how to display the contents to their best appearance. He tilted the container so the stone caught the light. We all gasped.
I’d seen the Millennium Star from a distance in London, and my synthetic replica from Zurich was perfect and shone with a radiance unrivaled in any synthetic I’d ever seen before. But seeing the real thing at a distance of only two feet was like looking at the sun. It burned with life. I had never seen a stone of such extraordinary beauty. Originally 777 carats of sheer brilliance when it was discovered by an alluvial digger in the Congo in 1996—the carat weight signified extreme good luck—DeBeers’s top cutters studied the Star for over three years before they painstakingly shaped it with lasers into what is the most beautiful flawless blue diamond in all history.
The stone was not quite as big as a baseball, as Marjorie had claimed. It was more correctly described as the size and shape of an Anjou pear. And because of the way it had been faceted—I had no idea how many facets there were altogether but it was in the hundreds, possibly even a thousand—it sparkled in a way that was unlike anything else. The stone was suspended from a pavé diamond and platinum necklace, graduated in width from approximately one half inch at the clasp, to one inch at its chevron point. By itself, the necklace would have been a major attraction, but incredibly it became almost an afterthought, an incidental backdrop for the Star.
Giancarlo was the first to speak. “Permisso?”he said and lifted the necklace out of its case
and placed it around Marjorie’s neck. ”Dio.” Then he took her in his arms and began to twirl her around the room in a sweeping waltz while we all watched in silence. They were beautiful to behold—the dashing older man, the magnificent young beauty. I know everyone, but Lucia and I, was thinking the same thing: That maybe Giancarlo was the Shamrock Burglar and was testing the possibilities—not of Marjorie. But of robbery. Possibly he thought he could waltz her right out the door.
Lucia stood still, as though she were watching them, but her eyes were on the diamond. I wondered what she had in mind for it.
The guards watched comfortably The necklace was going nowhere. At least not out of this room. There was no way the Star would be stolen from here.
After a brief applause, Giancarlo let the guard remove the necklace from Marjorie’s neck and place it carefully back in its case.
I was probably the only one who noticed they did not return the case to the safe while we were still in the room. It would be stored in a different drawer than the one from which they’d removed it in our presence.
F O R T Y
Lucia and I walked upstairs together. I was exhausted. Just as we reached the landing, the burglar alarm went off—a huge, screaming, brain-numbing piercing wail and everyone went running in different directions. The main floor looked like a lifeboat drill.
Lucia and I looked at each other, perplexed. She and I both knew she was the burglar and she was covering it with such a cool façade.
“Do you suppose we’re being robbed?” she asked guilelessly
“I have no idea.”
We stood and watched, fascinated, over the rail. Thomas rushed past, followed closely by Giancarlo. Shortly, the din stopped and a voice echoed throughout the entry hall. “False alarm. False alarm. Sorry.”
Lucia shook her head. “What a monstrous noise.”
I agreed.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked.
“I’d love one.”
“Come. My room is right down the hall.”
Lucia’s “room” as she called it was in fact an apartment, almost the size of my beautiful flat on Eaton Terrace in London, with a wide, wisteria shaded porch that wrapped around two sides. Unlike the opulence of the rest of the villa, her rooms were like her—spare and uncluttered. A combination of classic and modem masterpieces lived comfortably together on the walls. All the furniture was slip covered for the summer in pristine white linen. There were two collections besides the paintings: about a dozen and a half small Greek and Roman marble busts sat on one sideboard and a display of ancient Roman malachite horses sat on another. She rang a bell and her maid appeared.
“Sì, Principessa?”
“Tea, please. Do you have any preference, Priscilla?”
“No. Anything will be welcome.”
“Earl Grey, then.”
“Your room is beautiful,” I said. “It’s so peaceful.”
“Thank you. I love it. I would be happy never to leave the palazzo. Please make yourself comfortable.” Lucia sat in a straight-backed arm chair and indicated I do the same across the tea table. “Have you been in Portofino before?”
“No.” I shook my head.
The maid returned with a tray of silver teapots, cups and saucers, and little tea cakes, set it on the table, and then vanished.
“What brings you here now?” Lucia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and picked up the hot water and poured it into the teapot.
An edge to her tone got my attention.
“I recently lost my husband and decided I needed a break. I’m glad I chose Portofino—I think it’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.”
Lucia nodded. “Sì.”
“Why do you ask?”
’Just curiosity. Forgive me, I’m very jumpy and suspicious of everyone at the moment. Sugar? Lemon?”
“Just lemon, thank you. Jumpy and suspicious, how?”
She picked up one of the delicate cups and began to pour but stopped. The brew was still too weak. She put down the pot. “Because of the robberies. Truthfully? I’ve never approved of holding this gala here in our home. I don’t approve of the spotlight it puts on my family and I don’t like having strangers wander through our rooms.”
“I don’t blame you at all. It must be very disconcerting.”
“You have no idea. Fortunately, most of them have no interest in the collection, they’re only here to see who else is here, or try to get close to the celebrities. As you know, they pay dearly, and it’s for an important cause.” She shrugged. “But still, these events tend to attract a number of undesirables.”
“And you thought I might be the burglar?”
Lucia laughed. “I’m sorry. I think everyone’s the burglar.”
“Well, you’re right, of course. It could be any of us. But let me assure you, it’s not me. I’ve come by all my jewelry honestly.”
“Who do you think it is?” Lucia said. “That’s the question.”
“I haven’t a clue and I’m glad I’m not in charge of figuring it out.”
“Me, too.”
We smiled at each other. Two world-class liars.
She poured again. The tea was darker. “There, that’s better.” She handed me my cup. “I’m sorry to be talking so candidly about how I feel about the party. I should be more gracious; after all, you are our guest and I should keep my private feelings private. Please forgive me. But you have a way of making me feel very comfortable, as though we’ve been friends for a long time.”
“I feel the same way. It’s nice, isn’t it? How old are you, Lucia?”
“Thirty-four.”
Younger than my daughter would be, I realized. Maybe Lucia was a second chance for me to make up for that act of cowardice so long ago, for refusing to look at my child’s face, for not even inquiring if it was a boy or a girl. I’d forgiven myself—after all, I’d been a child myself at the time—but now I was being handed the opportunity to make a difference, especially in Lucia’s life.
“What happened to your mother?”
“She died when I was a little girl. I don’t even remember her.”
“Well, I suppose you’re comfortable with me because I’m your mother’s age. It’s always nice to have someone older to talk to. I didn’t have anyone when I was growing up, either.”
She looked at me. “You didn’t?”
I shook my head. “No. Just myself. I know exactly how you feel.”
She looked at her hands and nodded her head slightly. “Most of the women my father goes out with are younger than I am—they’re the only ones who will put up with his behavior. Wait until you see the way they act around him tonight. It’s laughable—they all want to be the next contessa. I usually just make a quick appearance at the party and then excuse myself.”
“Sounds like a reasonable approach,” I said. “It’s easy to see that you’re a very private person. But I imagine with Marjorie here as guest of honor, you’ll stay longer. She seems to be a very close friend.”
“My oldest and best. You’re right, I’ll stay longer this year. Marjorie and I always have a good time together—we had the best time at school. We were always in trouble.” She paused and sipped her tea. “Do you think Commander Curtis is right? That the burglar will try to steal the diamond?”
I shrugged. “I hope not. I know he’ll catch whoever it is one of these days and then that person’s life is going to be a mess. Well, let’s leave it up to Commander Curtis, and instead think about these little Russian tea cakes. I can’t believe I’m actually considering eating one after the lunch we just had.”
“They’re delicious.” She took a large bite. Powdered sugar crumbled onto her fingers. “Our cook makes the best in the world.”
Russian tea cakes are one of my weaknesses. There’s just something about the combination of pecans and butter and powdered sugar all in one little two-bite ball that makes me lose all resolve. I bit into one. The shortcake evaporated in my mouth like butter-flavor
ed gold dust. “Umm,” I said.
We each reached for another.
“Tell me,” I asked between bites. “Do you have a sweetheart?”
“I did. Until last week.”
“What happened to him?”
“He couldn’t handle who I was. He got bored with my scholarly life.”
“Then he wasn’t the right man for you.”
“I know, but I thought he was. I fell in love with him—he was supposed to escort me to the gala.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’ve decided I’m finished with men. I’m going to be an old maid.”
“Do you want me to tell you something, Lucia?”
She nodded. The tears spilled over and she brushed them away with the back of her hand, leaving a streak of sugar on her cheek.
“I used to feel exactly the same way. I never thought I’d find the right man for me, but that was all right. It didn’t matter. I loved my life and my world. I was complete as I was. Then, one day, when I was, well, never mind what I was, let me just put it this way, I was a great deal older than you are now, I met my husband. And he was worth the wait.” And he wasworth it, or so I thought. I’d adored Thomas. I still adored him. I felt like crying along with Lucia. “But if he hadn’t shown up, that would have been all right, too. The secret is, don’t compromise anything about yourself for love. If it’s meant to come, it will. So stop worrying about it and enjoy your life. You’re a very talented, special young woman. You require someone equally special.”
She regarded me gravely.” No one ever told me that before.”
“Not even your father?”
“Especially not my father. To him, women are for sex and babies.” Her cheeks colored. “Oh, forgive me, Priscilla. I didn’t mean … ”
“I know you didn’t. And that’s his problem, not yours. You seem to be happy with your role as curator of the collection.”
She nodded. “Very. I love it. I’d love never to have to leave the grounds of the villa, but it’s a very costly undertaking. I’m not sure we can support it much longer.”
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