Chapter 38 Pivoting
Pivoting
Lucia panted as she finished her yoga workout and headed to the bathroom to take a quick shower. She was supposed to meet Francesca later for an “afternoon sweet,” as Francesca had called it—which usually meant espresso and, if she was lucky, tiramisu or cannoli.
She’d just sat down to read when the doorbell rang.
Expecting a delivery, Lucia raised an eyebrow when instead, Skye stood in front of her, arms crossed. “Hi. What’s up?”
“Can we talk? I stopped by your studio first. Thought you’d be holed up in there now that you quit.”
Suppressing a sigh, Lucia stepped aside and ushered her inside. She closed the door and followed her into the living room.
Skye flopped onto the couch, staring straight ahead.
“So?” Lucia joined her, settling in the armchair across from her.
“I wanna blame you, but I’m not gonna do that.”
Lucia straightened. “Blame me for what, exactly?”
“For the end of the Collective! Not enough that you left, but now Francesca’s shutting everything down.”
“I was as surprised as you are.” She wouldn’t feel guilty for refusing to choose a life that all too often made her miserable, nostalgia be damned.
“Yeah, but you’re not getting the rug pulled out from under you. We’ve been there for way over a decade, and now what?”
“You’ll find something else.”
“Right. Lemme just throw ‘sixteen years in an art crime collective’ on my resume and see who bites.”
Lucia winced. “That’s…a challenge,” she acknowledged, “and likely will involve some research and creativity.” She knew how Skye felt—there was a reason it had taken her years to work up the courage for this step, but Skye was smart and talented.
She’d find something. Lucia understood the panic beneath her words, though, the quiet terror of becoming obsolete after years of purpose, even a dangerous one.
“I could always ask Varnelli if she’s hiring. At least she’s not torching her empire because of one dumb accident,” Skye muttered bitterly.
Lucia blinked.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m venting. I’d never take that snake’s side.” Skye ran a hand across her face.
“It’s not just the accident. That was the final straw.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
Lucia nodded slightly. “I suppose not.”
“And she’s not just quitting—she’s gutting the whole thing. Why tear down all the infrastructure? Fine, maybe she doesn’t want to deal in forgeries anymore. But why not repurpose the Collective?”
“Into what?”
“I don’t know. We could recover stolen art, help restore it. Legally. Support underfunded museums. Use the network to lift up smaller places, not just rob the big ones.”
Lucia looked at her for a beat. “Huh.”
“Or screw it, we could become like ethical hackers, but for museum security. All above board.”
Lucia chuckled. “That reminds me of a few movies we’ve watched.”
Skye grinned. “Yeah. Break into museums with their permission, then tell them how to fix it. Add workshops, lectures. We could use the same skills—just not to outsmart the system, but to strengthen it.” She paused. “It would also get rid of the danger of landing in jail.”
Lucia raised an eyebrow. “And the pitch would be… ‘Former art thieves turned consultants’?”
“I didn’t say I had the branding worked out! Francesca knows everyone. She could spin this, if she wanted to.”
“If is the operative word here.”
“Yeah. So can you please ask her?”
Lucia laughed. “What?”
“You’re her favorite, and you nearly died. She’ll listen to you.”
“I’m not her favorite, and I didn’t nearly die.”
“Sure. Tell that to someone who didn’t watch Francesca lose her shit when she saw you hanging there, limp and bleeding, strapped into that wrecked car.”
Lucia ducked her head. She hated how much worry she had caused.
“Hey.” Skye touched her arm. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”
“It’s all right. I can talk to her, but don’t get your hopes up. I don’t know her plans. Maybe she just wants to retire quietly.”
Skye snorted. “Please. She’s only fifty-five. Why on earth would she retire?”
“She doesn’t need the job or the money. Why wouldn’t she enjoy a life of leisure?”
“Because she’d be bored to tears. That woman needs a purpose, something to fight for, or against.”
Skye had a point. Lucia truly couldn’t imagine Francesca without a mission. Now, with the Madonna back in her possession, she likely felt rudderless.
~ ~ ~
“I’m so happy to see you,” Francesca said after opening the door, pulling Lucia in for a quick hug.
“Likewise.” Lucia followed her into the living room, where Francesca had already prepared the spread on the coffee table: a small tea carafe, a covered serving dish, cups, dessert plates, and utensils.
“I was up early and felt like baking, so…” Francesca lifted the glass cloche, revealing a dish of freshly made tiramisu.
Lucia’s mouth watered at the sight. She was lucky indeed.
“Thank you. I love your tiramisu.”
Francesca smiled. “I know.”
Lucia sat down, pouring herself a cup of tea. “How are things going?”
“Maddeningly slow.” Francesca added the dessert to her plate, put one on Lucia’s, and sat back down. “I expected some resistance but… Let’s just say certain segments are currently infighting over who gets to take over.”
“Huh. I mean, not really a surprise. I’d have expected you to step down before tearing it all down.”
“Letting go of the reins is proving…challenging.”
Lucia’s mouth twitched. “There’s that. But—don’t take this the wrong way—isn’t that a bit like destroying a toy so no one else can play with it?”
“On the surface, perhaps, but I scavenged the materials for the toy, built the toy, and protected it for almost thirty years. Now, if you were the one taking over, I might be able to relinquish control, but the rest? I didn’t trust them for a reason.”
Guilt rose, but she quashed it, knowing Francesca wasn’t trying to make her feel bad. “What about Skye and Jules? They’re smart, and you trust them, too.”
“They’re very capable, but not quite ready yet. Skye is too impulsive, and Jules still cracks too easily under the pressure she’d face in such a role.” Francesca sighed. “I thought about this, too, went over all the options. I don’t see any other solution.”
“What about repurposing the Collective?” Lucia put her spoon back down.
“In what way?”
She shared Skye’s idea, hinting at Francesca’s infamously long list of contacts. “If anyone could pull off such a transition, it’s you. You’ve always said the Collective was about more than just the score.”
“Flattery, Lucy. Oh my.” She canted her head. “Is this something you desire?”
Lucia shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve got no concrete plans yet, besides focusing on my art. I probably won’t be averse to some collaborations, but I’d have to think over anything more permanent.”
“I see. Then why?”
“It would be a shame to waste all these resources, not to mention: where will all our people go? Some might join Varnelli, and others…who knows.”
Francesca grimaced. “I doubt many would, but it’s their prerogative.”
“I mean, it’s up to you. It just seems like a waste not to consider it.”
“I have to think about it.”
“That’s fair.”
“Do you want to see her?” Francesca asked after a beat.
Lucia’s brows creased. “Oh, the Madonna? She’s here?”
Francesca nodded. She practically glowed.
“Sure.”
Francesca rose and led Lucia through the hall, up the stairs, then to the farthest room on the other side of the villa.
Lucia had never been there before, and when the doors opened, she knew why—this was Francesca’s bedroom.
“I thought about putting her in storage, or even hiding her here somewhere, but that seemed…wrong. I’ve not seen her in so long, up close like this.” Francesca’s gaze lit up with reverence as she looked at the painting hanging above her four-poster bed.
“It’s beautiful. I’m glad she’s back with you.”
“Me, too.”
Lucia pondered Varnelli’s words: Leaving your heart as shattered as you’ve left mine. You left me, and so I took the only thing that ever meant something to you.
Now, taking in Francesca, she felt almost sorry for Varnelli.
She couldn’t imagine the pain that realization must have unearthed—that this painting had mattered more to Francesca than she ever did. At least it seemed that way, and if Lucia could see that, the sting must have been out of this world.
She wondered if Varnelli had been referring to a professional or personal partnership. The broken heart comment seemed to suggest the latter.
In all her years around Francesca, Lucia had never seen her romantically involved with anyone—though, of course, that meant nothing. She didn’t live in Francesca’s pocket.
Still, the story left her with nothing but questions, and all of them would remain unanswered. Lucia would rather bite off her tongue than ask Francesca about it.
Yet her heart ached for them both.
~ ~ ~
A few days later, at Penelope’s place, the mood was lighter, at least until chaos erupted in the kitchen.
“No, no, get away from Fuller!” Lucia called out. “Stay back, girl.” She took a step and stomped her foot.
“Ugh.” She grimaced, snatched a paper towel off the dispenser, and picked up the remains of the spider to dump it in the trash.
“What’s going on?” Penelope returned from the bathroom.
“There was a spider, I think a wolf spider? It was huge, and, at first, I was cheering Fuller on to kill it and eat it—and she tried. She was pawing at it, but then she snapped back and was rubbing at her nose. It bit her!”
A laugh burst from Penelope. “So you killed it?”
“Yes! I don’t know if they’re harmful to cats, and who knows how this might have escalated.”
“I see. And where’s my little predator?”
Lucia looked around. “Oh, over there. In front of the back door, enjoying the sun. Guess she’s OK.”
“Thank you for defending Fuller.” Penelope gave Lucia a soft kiss.
“Are you making fun of me? For the record, I usually don’t kill spiders. I trap them and escort them outside.”
“Of course you do, and, no, I was serious.”
Lucia gave her a long look. “All right, then. Are you ready to leave?”
“Why are we doing this again?”
“Because Skye and Jules are down over the Collective and we’re trying to cheer them up. So we will join them at the bar for some food and a round of pool or darts.”
“I haven’t played any of that in years.”
“You can team up with Jules, then. I don’t wanna lose.”
“Wow. That’s how quickly you replace me?” Penelope grabbed her jacket from the wardrobe.
“When it comes to winning a game, you betcha.”
“You’re lucky I’m generally not competitive.” Her lips quirked. “I’m surprised you are, actually.”
Lucia rolled her eyes. “Everyone is. Come on. I’m starving.”
Picking up her keys, Penelope opened the door, and they headed for her car, Lucia explaining in detail the last time they’d met at the bar, over a year ago, when Francesca had joined them, and she and Lucia had thrashed Jules and Skye.
Lucia ignored Penelope’s wide-eyed stare and kept on talking. Penelope needed to know what she was walking into. All her friends were sharks, and if she wasn’t careful, they’d eat Penelope for breakfast. She smiled to herself, unsure if she wanted to protect Penelope or watch her hold her own.