“For whom?”
“Your daughter, for one.”
Gabriel returned the document. “And what if we were able to find an elegant solution to the problem?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I prefer not to negotiate with myself.”
“That’s where we’re different, you and I.”
“How so?”
Thedottoressasmiled. “I never negotiate.”
***
Gabriel’s opening position was that the protest march would take place on a Saturday rather than a weekday, that there would be no disruption of classes and no further posting of flyers on school property, and that none of the participants, including the organizer, would be punished in any way. In exchange, the organizer’s father would agree to allow a small delegation of students to observe him carrying out one of the most important restorations undertaken in Venice in many years.
“The delegation,” countered Dottoressa Saviano, “will consist of the entirescuola primaria.”
“Out of the question.”
“And the visit will be two hours in duration, giving you sufficient time to deliver a lecture on the Renaissance in Venice before commencing your demonstration.”
Gabriel sighed. “Done.”
“Not quite.”
“What now?”
“A number of our students have shown artistic promise. I feel that with the proper instruction...”
Chiara began to object, but Gabriel placed a hand on her forearm. “I’d love nothing more. How soon can we start?”
“I’ll leave that to your discretion, Signore Allon.” Thedottoressareturned the flyer to Irene’s academic file, then, upon further reflection, consigned it to the rubbish bin. “I know you’re terribly busy.”
Chiara managed to smile as she bade thedottoressaa pleasant afternoon, but her anger boiled over downstairs as she followed Gabriel into the street.
“The nerve of that woman.”
“She was a worthy opponent, I have to admit.”
“She’s an extortionist. And you, for some inexplicable reason, surrendered without a fight.”
“There was a method to my madness.”
“You were trying to protect your daughter?”
“I suppose I was.”
“Talk about madness,” murmured Chiara.
“She’s spirited. There’s a difference.”
Thirty minutes remained until the end of the school day, so they walked to Bar Dogale in the Campo dei Frari and ordered coffee. The counterman served Gabriel’s withun’ombra, a small glass of white wine. Chiara requested one as well.
“What are we going to do with her?” she asked.
