“They adore Venice.”
“School?”
“Believe it or not, we have several very fine ones.”
“They’ll turn into Italians.”
She frowned. “A pity, that.”
Gabriel exhaled slowly. “Have you seen Francesco’s books?”
“I’ll knock them into shape.”
“The summers here are dreadful.”
“We’ll go to the mountains or sail the Adriatic. It’s been years since you’ve sailed, darling.”
Gabriel had run out of objections. In truth, he thought it was a marvelous idea. If nothing else, it would keep Chiara occupied during the final two years of his term.
“Do we have a deal?” she asked.
“I believe we do, provided we come to terms on my compensation package, which will be exorbitant.”
He signaled the waiter for the check. Chiara was pulling at the loose thread in the tablecloth again.
“There’s one thing that’s bothering me,” she said.
“About uprooting the children and moving to Venice?”
“The Vaticanbollettino. Luigi always remained by Lucchesi’s side late into the evening. And when Lucchesi went to the chapel to pray and meditate before bed, Luigi always went with him.”
“True.”
“So why was Cardinal Albanese the one who found the body?”
“I suppose we’ll never know.” Gabriel paused. “Unless I have lunch with Luigi in Rome tomorrow.”
“You can go on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“Take me with you.”
“What about the children?”
“My parents can look after them.”
“And who’s going to look after your parents?”
“The carabinieri, of course.”
“But—”
“Don’t make me ask twice, Gabriel. I really hate playing the role of the complaining wife. They’re so annoying, those women.”
5
Venice-Rome
