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Miranda murmured as her mother walked away.
    â€œShe doesn’t waste time.” With another smile, Elise gestured. “I’m so sorry you had to go through such a terrible ordeal, but the work here should help you keep it off your mind. I have an office set up for you. The Fiesole Bronze is a top priority. You’re authorized to pick your team from any of the A security staff.”
    â€œMiranda!” There was a wealth of pleasure in the word, and it was delivered with the heavy and exotic tones of Italy. Miranda felt herself smiling even before she turned and had her hands taken and lavishly kissed.
    â€œGiovanni. You don’t change.” Indeed, the chemistrytechnician was as outrageously handsome as Miranda remembered. Dark and sleek, with eyes like melted chocolate and a smile that radiated charm. He stood an inch or so below her and still managed to make her feel feminine and tiny. He wore his glossy black hair in a ponytail—an affectation Elizabeth permitted only because besides being beautiful to look at, Giovanni Beredonno was a genius.
    â€œBut you change, bella donna . You’re even more lovely. But what is this about being hurt?” He fluttered his fingers over her face.
    â€œIt’s nothing, just a memory.”
    â€œDo you want me to go break someone in half for you?” He kissed her gently, one cheek, then the other.
    â€œCan I get back to you on that?”
    â€œGiovanni, Miranda has work.”
    â€œYes, yes.” He brushed off Elise’s stiff and disapproving words with a careless gesture—another reason for Miranda to smile. “I know all about it. A big project, very hush-hush.” He wiggled his expressive eyebrows. “When the direttrice sends to America for an expert, it is no small thing. So, bellissima, can you use me?”
    â€œYou’re first on my list.”
    He tucked her hand through his arm, ignoring the tightening of Elise’s lips. “When do we start?”
    â€œToday,” Miranda told him as Elise gestured toward a doorway. “I’ll want tests run on the corrosion layers and the metal right away.”
    â€œI think Richard Hawthorne would be helpful to you.” Elise tapped the shoulder of a man hunkered over the keyboard on a computer.
    â€œDr. Hawthorne.” Miranda watched the balding man blink owlishly through his glasses, then fumble them off. There was something vaguely familiar about him, and she struggled to place him.
    â€œDr. Jones.” He gave her a shy smile that added appeal to his face. His chin was short, his eyes a distracted and pale blue, but the smile was sweet as a boy’s. “It’s nice to see you again. We’re, ah, happy to have you here. I readyour paper on early Florentine humanism. It was quite brilliant.”
    â€œThank you.” Oh, yes, she remembered. He’d done a stint at the Institute a few years earlier. After a moment’s hesitation, which Miranda knew came only because Elise had recommended him, she relented. “Elise has an office for me. Could you join us for a moment? I’d like to show you what I have.”
    â€œI’d be delighted.” He fumbled with his glasses again, hit a series of keys that saved his work.
    â€œIt’s not a large space.” Elise began with an apology as she ushered Miranda through a door. “I’ve set it up with what I thought you’d need. Of course you can requisition anything you like.”
    Miranda took a quick scan. The computer station appeared efficient and neat. A wide white counter held microscopes, slides, and the small hand tools of her trade. A tape recorder had been provided for detailing notes. There was no window, only the one door, and with the four of them inside, barely room to turn around.
    But there was a chair, a phone, and the pencils were sharpened. It would do, she thought, very well.
    She set her briefcase on the counter, then the metal box.