Right on cue, her phone beeped, and she startled Fuller by how abruptly she snatched it up.
“Sorry, girl.” She petted her head, then focused on her phone.
Lucia.
Penelope failed to quell the smile blossoming on her lips.
Just checking in to make sure you had more than a sad apple for lunch.
And what happens if that was indeed my lunch? For the record, that apple was juicy and delicious yesterday. Not sad at all.
A lunch that consists of only an apple is sad by definition.
Penelope shook her head, smiling.
Did you just really go through the trouble of bolding part of your message to make a point?
It’s a point well worth making!
“She’s a lunatic, Fuller.”
Fuller opened one eye, but then, as if deciding Penelope wasn’t worth her attention, returned to her ball-shaped sleeping position.
So, what did you eat?
Penelope almost asked something along the lines of,Don’t people usually ask what you’re wearing?Thankfully, her head proved faster than her fingers this time, though that didn’t prevent the heat from spreading through her.
Ridiculous.
Tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.
Ah, comfort food. You okay?
A new smile formed on Penelope’s lips.
Yes, of course. I just like the combo.
~ ~ ~
The following Monday, Penelope stopped by the registrar’s office, waving at the man behind the desk until he removed his headphones.
“Hey, Tim, could you do me a favor and flag anything unusual about Belgrave Trust’s donations or provenance records? Just shoot me an email with the results.”
“Sure thing.” He scribbled something on the notepad next to his computer. “Anything else? Additional connections or threads you want me to look out for? Or any particular pieces?”
“No. Just note everything that’s off.”
“All righty. Talk soon!” He put his headphones back on, effectively dismissing Penelope.
Tim was…different from most other registrars she’d worked with in the past, but he was highly efficient, and she hoped he’d find something she could show Francesca.
That this meant she’d (presumably) also see Lucia again had nothing to do with it.
Before she could get too annoyed with herself, she ran into Montgomery in the hallway. Montgomery promptly asked her to join her in her office.
“I’ll cut right to the chase. Valentina Varnelli is hitting us from both ends—legal letters about insurance and conservation, and whispers to donors that we can’t protect what we borrow. None of it would stand up in court, but the noise alone is making my job a nightmare.”
“Have other donors contacted you about this as well?”
