Her grandmother leaned toward Rachel. “I see beautiful babies,” she whispered, her eyes still on Gray. “Bellissimo bambini.”
“Nonna,” she warned.
Her grandmother shrugged and raised her voice. “Signore Pierce, are you italiano?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Would you like to be? My granddaughter—”
Rachel cut her off. “Nonna, we don’t have much time.” She made a show of checking her wristwatch. “We have business in Milan.”
The grandmother brightened. “Carabinieri work. Tracking stolen art?” She eyed Uncle Vigor. “Something taken from a church?”
“Something like that, Nonna. But we can’t talk about an open investigation.”
Her grandmother crossed herself. “Horrible…stealing from a church. I read about the murders up in Germania. Terrible, just terrible.” She glanced around the table, taking in the strangers. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, settling on Rachel.
Rachel noted the sharp-eyed realization in her grandmother’s gaze. Despite her outward appearance, nothing slipped past her nonna. The theft of the Magi bones was all over the newspapers. And here they were traveling with a group of Americans, near the border of Switzerland, heading back into Italy. Had her nonna guessed their real purpose?
“Terrible,” her grandmother repeated.
A server arrived laden with two heavy bags of food. A loaf of bread poked from each like a pair of baguette masts. Monk rose to accept the burden with a broad smile.
Uncle Vigor spoke, leaning forward to kiss both her cheeks. “Momma, we’ll see you back home in Gandolfo in a couple of days. Once this business is finished.”
As Gray stepped past, Nonna Camilla took his hand and pulled him down closer. “You watch after my granddaughter.”
Gray looked up to Rachel. “I will, but she takes pretty good care of herself.”
Rachel felt a sudden flush of heat as his eyes met hers. Feeling ridiculous, she glanced aside. She wasn’t a schoolgirl. Far from it.
Her nonna gave Gray a peck on the cheek. “We Verona women always take care of ourselves. You remember that.”
Gray smiled. “I will.”
She patted him on his backside as he stepped away. “Ragazzo buono.”
As the others headed out, her grandmother motioned Rachel to stay. She then reached out, turned back the corner of Rachel’s open vest, and exposed the empty holster. “You lost something, no?”
Rachel had forgotten she was still wearing the empty shoulder belt. She had left her borrowed Beretta back at the cathedral. But her nonna had noticed.
“A woman should never leave the house naked.” Her grandmother reached down and collected her purse. She opened it and pulled out the matte-black handle of her prized Nazi P-08 Luger. “You take mine.”
“Nonna! You shouldn’t be carrying that around.”
Her grandmother dismissed her concern with a wave. “The trains are not that safe for a woman alone. Too many Gypsies. But I think you maybe need this more than me.”
Her grandmother’s gaze weighed heavily on her, making it plain she understood the danger of Rachel’s mission.
Rachel reached out and closed her purse with a snap. “Grazie, Nonna. But I’ll be fine.”
Her grandmother shrugged. “Terrible business up in Germania,” she said with a significant roll of her eyes. “Best to be careful.”
“I will, Nonna.” Rachel began to turn away, but her wrist was grabbed.
“He likes you,” her grandmother said. “Signore Pierce.”
“Nonna.”
“You would make bellissimo bambini.”
Rachel sighed. Even with danger threatening, her grandmother knew how to stay focused. Babies. The true treasures of nonne everywhere.
She was saved by Mario arriving with the bill. She stepped aside and paid it in cash, leaving enough to cover her nonna’s lunch. She then gathered up her things, kissed her grandmother, and headed out to the piazza to join the others.
But she carried her grandmother’s spirit with her. Verona women certainly did know how to take care of themselves. She met her uncle and the others at the car. She fixed Gray with her best poisonous stare. “If you think you’re going to kick me off this investigation, you can walk to Rome.”
Keys in hand, she rounded the Mercedes, satisfied by the surprised look on the man’s face as he glanced back to Uncle Vigor.
She had been ambushed, shot at, and firebombed. She wasn’t about to be left at the side of the road.
She pulled her door open, but she kept the other doors locked. “And that goes for you, too, Uncle Vigor.”
“Rachel…” he tried to argue.
She slid into the driver’s seat, slammed her door, and keyed the ignition.
“Rachel!” Her uncle knocked on the window.
She shifted into gear.
“Va bene!” her uncle yelled to her over the supercharged engine, agreeing. “We stay together.”
“Swear it,” she called back, keeping her palm on the gear knob.
“Dio mio…” He rolled his eyes heavenward. “And you wonder why I became a priest….”
She revved her engine.
Uncle Vigor placed a palm on the window. “I submit. I swear. I should never have tried to go against a Verona woman.”
Rachel twisted and locked eyes on Gray. He had remained silent, his face hard. He looked ready to hotwire a car and take off on his own. Had she overplayed her hand? But she sensed she needed to make a strong stand now.
Slowly Gray’s blue eyes shifted with a glacial coolness to her uncle, then back to Rachel. As they faced each other, at that moment, Rachel felt how deeply she wanted to remain, down to the marrow of her bones. Maybe he understood. Gray ever so slowly nodded, a barely perceptible movement.
It was enough of a concession.
She unlocked the doors. The others climbed in.
Monk was last. “I was fine with walking.”
11:05 A.M.
FROM THE backseat, Gray watched Rachel.
She had donned her blue-tinted sunglasses, which made her expression all but unreadable. Her lips, though, were pressed tightly. The muscles of her long neck remained taut as bowstrings as she glanced around for traffic. Despite the fact they had relented, she was still angry.
How had Rachel even known what had been decided between her uncle and himself? Her intuitive capacity was impressive, along with her no-nonsense approach to conflict. But he also remembered her vulnerability in the tower, her eyes meeting his across the gap between the two spires. Yet, even then, among the bullets and flames, she had not crumbled.