Grace Takes Off(9)
“So pleasant to see you again, my dear.” Cesare’s heavily accented English was luxurious and soft, in stark contrast to his firm grasp of Irena’s upper arms.
With effort, she shook him off. “What a wonderful surprise.”
Unfazed, his eyes glittered. “But I was certain your father told you I would be here to meet with his lovely guests.” Before she could respond, he said, “No matter. You must have simply forgotten.” He turned his attention to us and continued smoothly, “And you must be the venerable Bennett Marshfield.” He gave a brisk bow. “I am honored. Cesare Sartori, at your service.”
After Bennett introduced me, Cesare took my hand in his warm, pudgy one, and explained his presence. “My services have been engaged for this special evening.” He bowed again and I realized who he reminded me of. The guy was a doppelgänger for the actor David Suchet, who so elegantly depicted Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot on TV—except Cesare was much oilier.
From the back of the room, Angelo pulled out a wheelchair and helped Nico get settled into it, adjusting the older man’s positioning and locking in place the metal footrests.
Through it all, Cesare kept talking. “I am the proprietor of a happily successful auction house not far from the Ponte Vecchio. From time to time, I am fortunate to acquire priceless items on behalf of Signor Pezzati. Most of what you will encounter here this evening has come from my acquisitions. Because my esteemed client no longer possesses the mobility, nor the vision, to do so, he has asked me for, and it will be my humble privilege to provide, commentary on some of the incomparable treasures you will see this evening.”
As Cesare went on, Irena pulled Angelo off to the side to whisper in angry Italian, while Nico tried to get a word in edgewise, wagging a finger at them both from his low vantage point in the wheelchair. I wouldn’t have been able to understand what they were saying even if I could make out the words, but none of them looked particularly happy. Cesare appeared unruffled by their lively discussion, expounding—with excessive animation—on how he dealt with only the most respected clients and vendors and how his name was accepted like gold throughout all of Tuscany.
I suspected he would continue with the self-admiration all night if Nico hadn’t interrupted him, bellowing, “Just get on with it, man, before we sprout roots and are stuck here forever.”
Cesare’s mustache twitched ever so slightly. “Follow me.” He clasped his fingers together in front of his chest and, with an odd forward-tilting posture, led us deeper into the massive home.
We returned to the dark room Bennett and I had passed through earlier. Marco had evidently been apprised of our impending arrival, because the draperies had been thrown open and sunshine filtered between dust motes that danced in its rays, bringing the cluttered, treasure-strewn room into sharp focus.
Cesare made his way first to the coat of arms hanging over the massive stone fireplace. He pointed upward, telling us the story of the origins of the Pezzati family and how experts from his “happily successful” auction establishment had been able to trace the lineage and reclaim heirlooms that had been lost or stolen over the centuries.
Next, Cesare talked about the tapestries that had been recovered, then more about how he’d overseen the authentication of each one and how his team of experts was among the most respected in the world. I stifled a yawn. At Marshfield, we had hundreds of tapestries and our own team of experts that we relied on to verify provenance, but I did my best to pay attention to the man. One never knew when there was a tidbit to be learned. Bennett was to my left, Nico to my right. Behind him was Angelo, ready to wheel his master to our next stop. Near Angelo, Irena noisily shifted her weight and let loose with impatient sighs timed, it seemed, to coincide with whenever Cesare took a breath.
The man was a font of information and his eyes grew wide and his brows expressive as he talked about the history of each piece he’d brought to Villa Pezzati. “This, as you can tell, is the signor’s private room, the one where he keeps all family items. He will want me to show you his more expansive collection. Please, come along.”