Chapter 3
Elisa woke twice during the night.
The first time, she asked whether Lucinda was angry.
The second time, she asked whether Sebastian was angry.
That bothered him more.
He sat beside her bed.
“Why would I be angry with you?”
“Vase broke.”
“Accidents happen.”
“It cost lots.”
Sebastian stared at his daughter.
“Who told you that?”
Elisa hugged her stuffed lamb.
“Lucinda says don’t touch old things because they cost more than cars.”
That sounded like Lucinda.
Then Elisa added:
“She said some things cost more than people.”
Sebastian felt his jaw tighten.
“Did she say that before tonight?”
Elisa nodded.
He did not ask more.
Three-year-old testimony was not a tool he intended to sharpen for adult problems.
The next morning, Claire found the man who might know what Restoration File 17 had contained.
His name was Henry Marshall.
He was eighty-one and had worked for the restoration firm Giuseppe used throughout the 1980s and 1990s.
Henry lived in Wisconsin.
He remembered the Caradonna vase immediately.
“Ugly thing.”
Sebastian looked at Claire.
Claire covered a smile.
Henry continued.
“Giuseppe loved it because his wife loved it.”
“Was it Venetian?”
“The original was.”
Sebastian became still.
“The original.”
Henry nodded.
“Destroyed.”
“When?”
“Eighty-seven, maybe eighty-eight.”
Claire asked, “How?”
“Moving accident. Somebody dropped the crate during renovation.”
Sebastian looked toward the old note.
“What happened afterward?”
Henry remembered.
Giuseppe refused to tell his wife the vase had been destroyed while she was recovering from major surgery.
He commissioned a high-quality reproduction based on photographs and surviving fragments.
Not to commit fraud.
To spare his wife unnecessary distress.
“Was it documented?”
“Absolutely.”
“Where?”
“File 17.”
There it was.
Henry continued.
The reproduction was marked internally and listed as a decorative replacement in the heritage catalog.
Its insurance value at the time was modest.
“What happened to the original fragments?”
“Kept for years. Maybe later discarded.”
“And the reproduction?”
“The thing your daughter broke.”
Sebastian felt no anger toward Giuseppe.
The replacement had never been intended to deceive anyone.
Someone later changed the record.
Henry had copies of several old invoices stored with his personal business files.
One included the exact notation:
Display reproduction. No antiquarian value. Not to be represented as original artifact.
Claire looked at Sebastian.
That sentence changed the legal problem.
By afternoon, the family’s current digital inventory was compared with archives.
The reproduction notation disappeared eleven years ago.
At first, the vase became:
Heavily restored original.
Three years ago:
Original with period restoration.
Its valuation rose accordingly.
Lucinda had chaired the heritage committee for twelve years.
Preston began serving as an outside finance adviser three years ago.
The timing was uncomfortable.
Still not enough.
Sebastian asked Henry one more question.
“Did Lucinda ever contact you?”
Henry thought.
“Couple years ago.”
Sebastian leaned forward.
“About what?”
“She asked whether any private restoration copies still existed.”
“Did you tell her?”
“I said I had boxes somewhere.”
“What did she say?”
Henry shrugged.
“She offered to pay me to clear them out.”
The room became silent.
“How much?”
“Ten thousand dollars.”
“For old invoices?”
May you like
Henry laughed.
“That’s why I didn’t throw them away.”
