‘And how many times have you had gallery events on June the eighteenth?’
With that Gennaro threw up his arms. ‘Well, that, I would have to check. My assistant keeps those records, but I can ask her to look. You are looking specifically for work exhibited by freelancers, yes?’
‘And who might have an Italian connection of some sort – although that’s not a given,’ she added quickly, so as not to make the search too restrictive.
Gennaro smiled. ‘You are quite the detective, Holly O’Neill.’
‘My son calls me Sherlock.’ She smiled, thinking of her and Danny’s recent sleuthing, and was surprised to see Gennaro’s face change at the mention of a son. His eyes darted to her left hand, evidently in search of a ring. Holly had to purse her lips together to hold back a smile.
‘Your son? How long have you been married?’
Holly shook her head and looked down at her hand. ‘I’m not. And I’m no longer with Danny’s father.’
Gennaro’s face brightened. ‘Ah, I see, and your son. How old is he? And does he like your current boyfriend?’
Talk about subtle …
‘He’s ten. And there is no current boyfriend.’
Gennaro looked Holly up and down. ‘There is no way you are old enough to have a ten-year-old son. Not possible. I mean, you can’t be a day over twenty-five, how beautiful you are. And to be single, that is a tragedy.’
Holly laughed out loud at this. ‘Oh Gennaro, what a smooth talkeryouare! Try adding ten to that.’
He feigned shock at her true age and put a hand over his heart. ‘You must have fantastic genes, do not tell me, you are Italian, yes? We Italians have good genes; Italian women are beautiful forever.’
‘Do I look Italian to you?’ Holly pointed to her hair, and glanced at her watch. As much as she was enjoying Gennaro’s flirting, she needed to get back to work.
‘So is your assistant here? Do you think she – or he – could get this information for me?’ She hoped her suggestion could get the flirtatious gallery owner back on track, but unfortunately he shook his head.
‘No, Sofia is not here right now.’ Holly hid a smile;of coursehis assistant was a woman andof courseshe was a Sofia. There was no way a man like Gennaro would have a Sally or a Jane as an assistant. ‘But I can have her call you. If you leave me your number?’ He smiled devilishly, and Holly was quite certain that if she left her number, Sofia wouldn’t be the only person calling her. Nevertheless, she handed him her business card.
‘My cell is on there, so is my email, in case Sofia finds anything.’ She stressed the assistant’s name, hoping Gennaro would take a hint.
He didn’t.
‘Fantastic Holly O’Neill, and once we have some information for you, maybe I can take you to dinner? To talk about our … er … findings with this mystery bracelet.’ As much as she hated the next words that came out of her mouth, she knew it was necessary in order to get Gennaro to ask his assistant to pull the event records, and not throw her card in the trash as soon as she walked out of the store.
‘Sure, that would be lovely. As soon as Sofia calls me, we can figure something out.’ She smiled coyly, hoping she wasn’t overdoing it.
Flirting with Italian Stallions like Gennaro was not a speciality of hers, and frankly, since Nick, she felt long out of practice in the art of flirting. After all, she and Nick had stopped flirting alongtime ago.
‘Ahbella!Fantastico. I know just the place too, you will see.’
‘Sure, just don’t forget to talk to Sofia about that, OK?’ She pointed to her card. ‘It’s very important that I get this bracelet back to its owner. Remember, New York artists you might have exhibited work from, OK? Female New York artists.’
‘You have my promise, Holly O’Neill.’ He reached forward and took her hand, then bowed low to place a kiss on it. The door chimed behind them and Holly reclaimed her hand, placing the bracelet back in her handbag, making sure it was safe and secure. ‘Until we meet again,bella donna. Ah! Now, you will excuse me, I have some business to attend to. Gregorio!’ Gennaro cheered, looking over Holly’s shoulder at whomever had just walked in the door of the gallery.
Holly turned abruptly and ran face first into the man she assumed was ‘Gregorio’.
‘Oh, sorry,’ she said, rubbing her nose, which had connected squarely with the man’s very hard shoulder.
‘Oh excuse me, sorry about that, are you OK?’ said Gregario in a very non-Italian-sounding New York accent. His dark gaze met hers and he smiled kindly, brushing away a lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead.
Holly smiled absently. ‘Yes, I’m sure my nose will recover,’ she joked. Anyway, excuse me, I was just leaving.’ She turned to Gennaro. ‘Thanks again Gennaro. I look forward to hearing from Sofia. You too.’
‘Ciao Holly,’ Gennaro called over her shoulder. ‘Until we meet again.’
Holly exited onto the street, just as her cell phone rang.
