Homeport by Nora Roberts

romance.”
    â€œIf the bronze proves to be genuine, you’ll have impact.”
    â€œYes, yes, but more. The lovely and talented daughter of the direttrice comes across the sea. One lady to another. What do you think of her? What do you feel from her?”
    Miranda arched a brow and tapped her pencil against the edge of her desk. “I think the Fiesole bronze is ninety point four centimeters in height, twenty-four point sixty-eight kilograms in weight. It’s a bronze nude, female,” she continued, holding back a smile as Vincente rolled his eyes to the ceiling, “crafted in the Renaissance style. Testing so far indicates it was cast in the last decade of the fifteenth century.”
    â€œYou are too like your mama.”
    â€œYou won’t get anywhere with me with insults,” Miranda warned, and they grinned at each other.
    â€œYou make my job difficult, cara .” When the time was right, he thought, he’d take his own angles on the press release.
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    Elizabeth scanned the paperwork with sharp eyes. Miranda had been very careful with the facts, with numbers, with formulas, with every step and stage of every test. But it was still possible to see where she was leaning, and where she believed she would end.
    â€œYou believe it’s genuine.”
    â€œEvery test indicates its age is between four hundred and fifty and five hundred years. You have copies of the computer-generated photos, the chemical tests.”
    â€œWho took them?”
    â€œI did.”
    â€œAnd the thermoluminescence process. Who conducted it?”
    â€œI did.”
    â€œAnd the dating by style is also yours. The bulk of the documentation is from your own research. You supervised the chemical tests, testing the patina and metal personally, did the formula comparisons.”
    â€œIsn’t that why you brought me here?”
    â€œYes, but I also provided you with a team of experts. I expected you to make more use of them.”
    â€œIf I run the tests myself, I have more control,” Miranda said curtly. “There’s less possibility of error. This is my field. I’ve authenticated five pieces from this era, three of them bronzes, one of them a Cellini.”
    â€œThe Cellini had unassaultable documentation, and excavation records.”
    â€œRegardless,” Miranda said with bubbling resentment. Though she imagined herself flinging up her hands, shaking her fists, she kept her arms quietly by her sides. “I ran precisely the same tests on that piece as I have on this one in order to rule out forgery. I’ve consulted with the Louvre, the Smithsonian, the Bargello. I believe my credentials are in order.”
    Wearily Elizabeth leaned back. “No one is questioning your credentials, or your skill. I would hardly have called you in on this project if I doubted either.”
    â€œThen why are you questioning them now that I’ve done the work?”
    â€œI’m commenting on your lack of teamwork, Miranda, and I’m concerned that you formed your opinion the moment you saw the bronze.”
    â€œI recognized the style, the era, and the artist.” As did you, Miranda thought furiously. Damn you, as did you. “However,” she continued coolly, “I conducted every standard test, then retested, and documented the procedure and the results. From these I can form an opinion, and a belief that the bronze currently locked in the safe is a depiction of Giulietta Buonadoni, cast circa late fifteenth century, and the work of a young Michelangelo Buonarroti.”
    â€œI will agree that the style is of the school of Michelangelo.”
    â€œThe bronze is too early a work to be of his school. He was barely twenty. And only genius can duplicate genius.”
    â€œTo my knowledge there is no documentation of a bronze of this artist that supports this piece as his work.”
    â€œThen the documentation has yet to be found,