A Fragile Thing by Kevin Wignall

Author:Kevin Wignall [Wignall, Kevin]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
ISBN: 9781612185804
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2017-08-16T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

Max got home late the following morning and found Francesco studying the cards and notes attached to the flowers that filled the main hall. Francesco turned and saw him, breaking into a broad smile.

“Max, good to have you back.” He came over and held him by the shoulders, kissing him on both cheeks. “Did you have a good trip? Difficult, but hopefully . . . ?”

Max thought of the dinner the night before, glad he’d stayed for it. He wasn’t sure there’d ever be a way back for him and Henry, not helped by the fact that there hadn’t ever been any particular closeness between them in the first place, but things had at least reached a level of cordiality.

“It had its tricky moments, but it was good to see them.”

“Excellent. I’m pleased.” Francesco held his arms out, gesturing to the flowers. “Isn’t this incredible? A sign of your popularity that so many friends want to offer their support at a time like this.”

Max nodded, taken aback that all these people even knew about the death of his parents.

Francesco took him by the elbow, moving him around the room like a dignitary. “These are from the household staff: so beautiful. These are from me and the rest of the team. These are from the ballet, the children’s hospital, Monsignor Cavaletti’s office. Over here from some of the local families—Manfredi, Borromeo, and of course, Buonarroti. Many more. So many.”

“It’s incredible.” It also felt quite unreal. Most of them didn’t really know him, and most of these flowers and condolences were a response to his generosity, not his person.

They walked toward the office together as Francesco said, “The German is around somewhere—he has some information you asked for. And the lady from the FBI called this morning, said she needed to speak to you, that there has been a development.”

“She say what it was?” It felt like weeks since he’d spoken to Catherine Parker. He had a vague memory that she’d talked about searching for a way of working together without compromising his position, but then her colleague had been trying to arrange a meeting with Vicari, so he guessed they didn’t care how they got Max to comply, as long as he did.

“She said she’ll call back today.”

Max nodded and they walked in and said hello to Rosalia.

With the greetings out of the way, she said, “The Buonarrotis would like to invite you to a small private lunch to meet Isabella, once the funeral is out of the way.”

“That sounds nice.” Max turned to Francesco. “Do you think the poor girl has any idea how desperate they are to marry her off?”

“I think she’s a free spirit. I suspect they’re just keen for her to meet someone suitable, stable.” Francesco laughed. “And, of course, rich enough to pay for her lifestyle.”

Max could just imagine the hapless Isabella Buonarroti—a highly-maintained party animal, flitting from one social engagement to another, always at risk of embarrassing her family. So they had at least one thing in common.

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