“My attorney tells me that they’ve picked up the guy and everything checks out. The D.A.’s office is all over this and it looks like I’ll be out on the streets by tomorrow afternoon. Just like that. Next day a judge signs a release. ‘Clean your cell, Story, and get out.’ Three years in hell and not so much as a ‘Sorry, pal.’ I tried to find my brother but he was gone. So I bought a one-way ticket to Rome.”

Eliana stared at him, struck by the horror of his tale. It had been a long while since Ross had told the story, and it left him weary. Eliana wanted to hold him. She put her hand on his. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. I’m so sorry for ever doubting you.”

Ross just sat there. “I once believed that art was the only evidence that we are more than animals. I believe differently now. I believe love is that evidence. Art is just an outward expression of love.”

She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. “I want to be alone with you.”

He stood up and took her hand. They walked to the front counter of the Uffizi, where they retrieved Ross’s portrait. It leaned against the wall, and he stared at it for a moment while Eliana awaited his verdict.

“What do you think?”

“We should hang it in here right now.”

“Seriously.”

“I am being serious. We could move one of Rembrandt’s self-portraits into the corridor. He did eighty of them; no one would miss one. ”

She smiled. “Do you really like it?”

“I really do. Notwithstanding the subject, it’s beautiful.”

She took his arm and laid her head against his shoulder. “It’s the subject that makes it beautiful to me.”

Ross put his arm around her. Then he carried the portrait with him out into the Uffizi courtyard.

“How did you get here?”

“I drove. I’m parked a couple blocks away.”

“Let’s take the painting back to your car; then I’ll take you to dinner.”

She smiled. “That sounds nice.”

They walked down a one-way street from Piazza della Signoria until they came to Eliana’s car parked on a corner, the wheels up on the sidewalk without apology.

The restaurant was only a few minutes walk away. It was eight o’clock, still early for dining in Tuscany, and their dinner was brought out quickly.

“You know, some of the women in that last tour group were talking about you,” Eliana said.

Ross was twirling spaghetti on his fork. “Anything interesting?”

“One compared your physique to the David; then she said, and I quote, I’d like to take him back to my hotel and sink my teeth into him like a Sicilian pizza.”

“Who said that?”

“The one with an Australian accent.”

“They all had Australian accents.”

“The skinny one with the leather skirt, spiked heels and too tight blouse.”

“Oh, her.” Ross slightly smiled. “I didn’t notice her.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you didn’t.”