‘Now,’ Luca said, ‘it is your turn. I want to hear everything you know, from start to finish.’
Their waiter came back then, granting Georgia a short reprieve for which she was very grateful.
‘Are you ready to order?’ the waiter asked.
‘Anything you don’t eat?’ Luca asked.
‘Pickles and veal.’
‘Huh,’ he said, raising his eyebrows as he glanced at the menu. ‘We’ll have oysters to begin, then the special of the day,the pan-fried king prawns and the Cajun spiced chicken burger. All to share.’
Once their menus were gone and they were alone again, Luca turned to her.
‘Why veal?’
‘Because I don’t want to eat a baby cow that has been taken from its mother.’
‘Hmm, well, I can understand that,’ he said. ‘Now?—’
‘Back to the mystery,’ she said, taking another sip of wine before telling him how she’d come to be in possession of the sapphire, and how she’d ended up making contact with him. ‘As you can see, I wasn’t expecting it to be anything of value.’
‘So you are prepared to donate it, then?’
Georgia couldn’t help but smile back at Luca, who also couldn’t keep his face straight. ‘Luca, I’m a businesswoman. If the sapphire holds great value, then my great-grandmother would have known that. That tells me she had a reason for leaving it behind, that she wanted her daughter to have it, to prosper from it even.’
‘May I see your little wooden box again?’ Luca asked.
‘Of course.’ Georgia reached into her bag and passed it to him, staring at his hands as he turned it over. His fingers were long and tapered, as if perhaps he’d been a pianist in another life.
‘May I open it?’ She liked the softness in his gaze when he looked at her.
Georgia nodded, watching as he set it down and took out the newspaper clipping.
‘You speak Italian?’
‘No. But I had it translated.’
Their oysters arrived, served on ice, as he read the article. He’d been smiling when he began, but his smile quickly disappeared.
‘The clipping is as much a mystery to me as the sapphire. I don’t know the connection,’ she said.
Luca raised his eyes and stared at her, as if trying to decide whether or not she was telling the truth.
‘You have no idea who this is? Why you were left this clipping about the death of Florian Lengacher?’
She shook her head. ‘I have absolutely no idea at all.’
Luca set down the article and reached for his wine, taking a very long, very slow sip.
‘Do you remember how I told you that my grandfather gave my father the tiara, to look after? That it had been passed down through our family for generations?’
‘I do.’ He’d only just told her about it; of course, she remembered.
‘Well, my grandfather had a dispute with the family of Florian Lengacher. When they discovered that my family held the tiara, they tried to mount a claim against it. They insisted that it belonged to his estate.’
‘Your family won the claim?’
‘Florian’s wife passed away before it went to court, and his son wasn’t interested in pursuing the claim. But it caused a divide between two families who’d once been so close.’
