“How so?” questioned Lyon.
“Scholars have been debating the meaning of the Sistine Chapel for generations. This find challenges years of academic study.”
“But that’s possibly been conducted with partial information. She’s found a new piece of evidence.”
“Indeed, you may have,” he said, turning his gaze to Rose. “And you will be rewarded for bringing this find to us.”
“But—”
“I need to consult with my peers on these drawings.” The cardinal looked at Rose and Lyon. “You have my word that they will be safe in my care and we will come up with an adequate way to compensate you.”
“I want to be part of the conservation process. I found them,” Rose pleaded.
“But you have no formal training. That would be impossible.”
“Why couldn’t I be an apprentice and learn?”
“I would be willing to supervise her,” said Beatrice. “She could work with me in the laboratory and observe.”
“We will give this idea every consideration.”
Beatrice gingerly took the parchments and rolled them up. The cardinal approached Rose.
“You have done the right thing by bringing this part of history back where it belongs.”
“Thank you,” said Rose, who felt uneasy. Did the cardinal have an agenda? “We will plan to stay in Rome, in close proximity to the Vatican, until you make a decision on them.”
Cardinal Baglioni nodded his consent.
***
As they headed outside into the sunshine, Rose felt a sense of calm.
“Cardinal Baglioni will compensate you for your discovery,” said Beatrice.
“But if they are authentic, I get the impression that he isn’t going to tell anyone that they exist?”
“I think we would need to go through the restoration process first before a decision is made on that front. Things don’t just happen here. There’s a governing board, and they would have to debate the merits of the find. It’s my understanding that he’s quite close with Cardinal Rothsay, who is a biblical scholar; I bet the two of them will debate the meaning of the intertwined hands forever,” she said with a laugh.
“What do you think the hands mean?” she asked Beatrice.
“I think they’re a symbol of mankind’s ultimate relationship with God. That they are one.”
“And your opinion?”
Lyon paused for a moment. “I’d like to think the same thing. That we’re all from the same God and we need to respect each other despite earthly differences.”
“What would happen if we lived in a world governed by the laws of love? I wonder why Michelangelo painted it with God’s fingers touching Adam rather than the intertwined hands? It’s also a beautiful message. In my opinion, he made a distinction between the earthly and the divine.”
Rose paused, considering the meaning of the current panel in the Sistine Chapel and the possible ramifications of the third drawing she found.
“We also have to consider the possibility that the Master may have had the opportunity to discuss the drawing with his possible son. I can imagine a debate between them as they considered both options. I mean, what if Michelangelo had wanted the hands touching and his son argued to have them intertwined? That is a really fascinating concept.” She cleared her throat. “But it may just be too farfetched to even consider. What I do know is that maybe these hands mean that God isn’t just this distant being that we touch with our fingers. Maybe the divine is something we need to hold tightly and feel.”
They all paused for a moment.
“That was a beautiful analysis, Rose,” said Lyon. “It’s probably something that I will ponder in the coming weeks. I mean, aren’t we all often ruled by earthly desires? I think our spiritual side doesn’t get enough attention.”
“Is that a rhetorical question?” asked Beatrice.
“I think we all have a responsibility to treat our fellow man with dignity and respect,” exclaimed Rose. “Wouldn’t that be amazing if such a message became a cultural phenomenon? That we all need to experience God in our midst from the moment we wake up to the moment we go to sleep.”
Lyon added. “Maybe, but it’s certainly not going to happen if the discovery is locked away forever.”
Beatrice eyed Rose. “You would be foolish not to accept the conditions offered by the cardinal. I have known him to be a very fair and generous man.”
“I understand,” said Rose, wanting to end the payment discussion. “On a lighter note, where can I get a cup of coffee around here? This has all been a lot to absorb in one day.”
“I’ll take you to the secret employee café where you can get an amazing cappuccino.”
“Now, that would really make my day,” joked Rose, now buoyed by her discovery, one that might confirm the intention of one of the greatest artists of all time.
Chapter 12
WAITING WAS THE HARDEST part. Lyon drove back to Florence that evening, promising to come back as soon as she heard some news. Beatrice invited Rose to stay in her apartment while a decision about Rose’s involvement was being made.
The next couple of mornings, Rose commuted with Beatrice to the Vatican to spend time in the laboratory watching her newfound work, which was both exciting and eye opening.
***
Several days passed with no news until Rose received word that Cardinal Baglioni would like to meet with her. She texted Lyon for moral support and asked if he could clear his schedule to return to Rome. Her patience was frayed, but she was relieved that she might finally get some answers. When Lyon arrived, Rose was delighted to see him and rushed into his arms. He kissed her and took her hand as they entered the inner sanctum of the building.
Beatrice’s words rang in her head as she nervously headed to the cardinal’s office. He’s a man of his word. The cardinal is not going to let you down.
They were directed to a conference room on the second floor where Cardinal Baglioni, dressed in crimson and white, immediately invited them in and shut the door.
“After careful consideration, Ms. Maning, we are prepared to offer you the sum of $3 million dollars for your discovery,” said the cardinal. “However, the proposal is only good now if you sign these legal documents that we have drawn up.”
“What?!” Rose gasped. “That’s a lot of money for a discovery that hasn’t been authenticated yet. Any more clues?”
The cardinal did not respond.
“But it’s not a lot of money,” Lyon piped in, “if the drawings are authentic. They reveal information about Michelangelo and the thought process behind an iconic artwork. Not to mention that there might be a chance that he fathered a son who worked with him.”
“That’s true,” said the cardinal. “That’s why the Vatican wants control of her discovery and whether we make it public. We have specific conditions for you to follow. We don’t want any information on social media or through the press by Ms. Maning.”
Rose couldn’t believe her ears. Three million dollars was more money than she could have ever dreamed about having in her lifetime! She willed herself to remain calm when she asked, “May I observe the conservation process? I’ve been shadowing Beatrice all week and I don’t think I’ve slowed her down.”
“No, I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“Please. It’s very important to me. I found the drawings and want to see them restored.”
He reviewed the legal document at his desk.
She pushed harder. “Then I’ll refuse your offer and take the drawings and my story elsewhere.”
“You could do that, but we have made you a very generous offer. These drawings are a part of history and we would be most capable of guaranteeing their safety.”
“I understand, but the conservation process means the world to me. This discovery has already affected my life
in ways too numerous for me to talk about now. I repeat, it’s important that I have access to a historical find.”
He stared at her intently, pondering her request.
“Alright,” he said reluctantly, “I will amend our agreement. You can work out the details of your apprenticeship with Beatrice and her superior.”
“I have several ideas on how to make it work and still live in Florence the majority of the time,” Rose added.
Lyon whispered that she should have easier access to the Sistine Chapel in the future.
“Cardinal, I realize that you are making me an extremely generous offer, but I would be releasing my rights to a historical find that could have a major impact on how art historians would view Michelangelo’s iconic work. It could dramatically increase the number of tourists if, in fact, the drawings are authentic or even speculated to be as such. I would like to ask for VIP access to the chapel as my final part of this settlement.” She took a breath. “I am passionate about the life and works of Michelangelo, and it would be my pleasure to share this love with others.”
“Fair enough,” said the cardinal. “I’ll make that happen. There will be conditions on your request, of course.”
“I understand.”
My life will never be the same, thought Rose, as she signed the documents.
“And you said you had a dream about the third drawing?” asked the cardinal.
“I did. I saw the intertwined hands in my dream.”
“God has a plan for all of us.” The cardinal smiled. “I look forward to seeing more of you in the future, Rose.”
***
Rose and Lyon immediately met with Beatrice to agree on a plan for watching her clean and restore the drawings, which was going to take several months.
“I’ve so enjoyed your company this week. You are welcome to stay in my apartment when you come. You could come down by train on Monday morning, stay with me and return to Florence on Tuesday afternoon. We will figure something out.”
“That’s so lovely. Thank you, Beatrice. That idea works for me.”
Rose made her way to the Sistine Chapel to look at the ceiling one more time. She would never tire of viewing this masterpiece. With Lyon by her side, she stared at the panels that always inspired her with their timeless beauty.
On the drive back to Florence, Rose tried to process all that had happened.
“Three million dollars is a lot of money.”
“You realize they could make ten times that if and when the news breaks and, of course, if it’s all true that these sketches are connected to Michelangelo himself. Regardless, it’s a fascinating story with a beautiful message.”
“But now it’s their story to tell, not mine.”
“Fair enough. But you’ll be part of whatever history is made.”
Soon after, Rose dozed off in the car, and when she awoke they were on the outskirts of Florence.
“You’ve had quite the week, Rose.”
“I know. It all seems so strange.”
“It may take a while for it all to sink in.”
“I still feel uneasy about accepting money to guard some centuries-old secret.”
“I’m not in the art business, but I do know that a Leonardo found last year sold for $450 million dollars and yours has a far more interesting story.”
“Pope Julius II originally commissioned Michelangelo to do the Sistine Chapel, and that is where the drawings belong,” countered Rose, trying to justify her decision.
“Not many people would look at it that way.”
“It’s not about money for me,” Rose said. “Three million is a lot, and I’d like to use some of it to help others.”
“Perhaps you could set up some sort of scholarship fund for students to come to Florence and learn about the Renaissance?”
“That’s a great idea! But I’d want it to be for people of all ages, not just traditional students. What a gift to be able to help others explore my passion for Michelangelo! I’m a very lucky art historian.”
“That you are,” Lyon chuckled. “Too bad I can’t advertise your find to all of my potential clients. I can imagine the billboard now: Relocate to Italy. Discover a Hidden Treasure. Change Your Life.”
Rose laughed. “I really can’t believe what just happened today! And I’ve got a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to observe firsthand the conservation and restoration process at the Vatican! That’s so incredibly awesome!”
“I’ll drink to that,” said Lyon. “Let go out and celebrate!”
“Sounds great,” said Rose. “Do you mind dropping me off at home so that I can do a quick change?”
“Only because I like you.”
***
Lyon decided that he would wait for her if she promised to be quick.
“Fair enough. I’ll be no more than fifteen minutes.”
Lyon gave her a knowing smile as she jumped out of the car, practically walking on air as she made her way up the steps. The door to her apartment was slightly ajar, which Rose found strange. Maybe the contractors hadn’t locked it properly, she decided, not wanting to relinquish her excitement over the day’s events. She nudged the door open and turned on the light to see that her home had been completely ransacked. Doors were hanging open, pictures thrown on the ground, cushions slashed. She screamed and ran back downstairs.
“Lyon, somebody broke into my apartment! We need to call the police.”
Lyon dialed an emergency number from his cell phone and tried to calm her down as they waited for the authorities. Rose felt shaken and afraid, wondering if this was a random act or something more sinister. A team of police officers arrived within minutes and went upstairs to investigate.
An officer started speaking to Lyon in torrents of Italian, and Lyon answered his questions, explaining how she had been out of town for the last few days. An officer returned from her apartment and said in halting English, “It appears like someone was looking for something specific because the television and personal belongings appear to be intact. Will you confirm this, Miss Maning? Do you have any idea what someone might be looking for?”
Rose shook her head and looked over at Lyon, who explained that she had relocated to Florence a few weeks ago and only recently had work done on the apartment. The officer wrote down her name and cell number and promised to contact her if they came up with any leads.
Rose nodded, wondering at how her new life had become so dramatic.
“Hey, why don’t you pack a bag? I’m thinking it would make sense to not have you stay here alone tonight. You could stay with my parents in their guest house. It would give us time to get the apartment cleaned and perhaps a better security system installed. I think we’ll both sleep easier if you are there and safe.”
“Thank you,” said Rose, relieved.
“Absolutely. Their guest cottage is extremely private and the perfect place for you right now. I’ll call and let them know that you’re coming.”
“That would be great. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Please don’t thank me. I’m glad to be able to help.”
“Do you think this was a random act?”
“I’m not sure yet what to think. It could be, but it seems like a strange coincidence. There are only two other people who know you found the drawings. Your American friend and the professional from Christie’s. Something doesn’t add up. This neighborhood is not known for its crime.”
“Ben is back in New York, and I have no idea about Mr. Klonadis.”
Rose raced up the stairs to her new home, feeling suddenly very vulnerable. With a speed born of fear, she managed to grab an overnight bag and place a few days’ worth of clothing and toiletries in it. Remembering her sketchpad and some paints, she threw those into a tote bag so she would have something to do once she arrived at Lyon’s parents’ home in Tuscany.
“I can’t thank you enough for your help. You’re right. I wasn’t going to get any sleep here alone.”
***
The traffic was light as Lyon expertly wound his way out of the city onto the highway.
“Don’t think too much. I don’t want you to worry.”
“Thanks. I needed to hear that,” said Rose thoughtfully. “The timing, and now we have two suspects, which is sad, but true.” She sighed heavily, telling herself to stay calm. “I think the Christie’s professional lied to me about the value if Cardinal Baglioni was willing to shell out three million dollars. I know the story and the drawings are worth far more than that on the ‘open market,’” she said sarcastically.
“Would anyone believe it? It’s the stuff of movies.”
“I’m not sure what I think anymore,” said Rose quietly, looking into the night.
They stopped for gas and headed to Tuscany, which took less than thirty minutes. Soon afterwards, they pulled up to a guarded gatehouse. Lyon spoke in Italian to the guard, who opened the massive gates. The driveway was well lit, with gorgeous cypress trees winding along a moonlit path. A grand estate loomed before them, and Rose’s breath caught in her throat at the circular driveway, cascading fountain, and large stone villa.
“Are you kidding me?” she said, taking in the glorious property. “I thought you said your father was an English poet—you know, the starving artist kind.”
Lyon threw back his head and laughed. “He was also kind of an English aristocrat.”
“Seriously?”
“All is well, Rose,” he said as a servant came down to greet them. “You are safe here.”
“So, you didn’t borrow the Tesla.”
“Well, I borrowed it from my family, who happen to be one of my clients, so I was technically truthful. Come this way and I’ll show you to the guest house. You can get some sleep and meet my parents tomorrow morning. Sound good?”
“I really appreciate your help. I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed right now.”
Sunrise in Florence Page 13
