Trusting his cousin’s urgent warning, slowly, over the course of two days, Mattiuzzi and his son removed pieces from the display cases, leaving identical paste copies behind, so as not to rouse suspicions.
When the enemy was invisible, you must be too.
Mattiuzzi wrapped the fine jewels in muslin, hid them in his coat, and went to morning Mass, where, instead of leaving out the front door, he stole down the steps of the sacristy, to the underground crypt, where he hid the inventory in the wall beneath Saint Andrew’s Cathedral. Mattiuzzi walked back to his shop confident no one had seen him hide his valuable inventory.
The bells on the door of Mattiuzzi’s shop jingled. Father and son were in the back sorting their tools. They looked at each other. Mattiuzzi motioned to his son to stay in the workroom. He removed his apron and went to the front room.
“How may I help you, sir?”
“Antica sent me to see you.” The captain had shaved and was wearing his uniform. “Captain John McVicars. I’m looking to purchase a lady’s watch.”
Mattiuzzi pulled a velvet tray out of the display case. Two gold watches, one with a leather band, the other with a combination of leather and metal, were placed on the glass. They were the last two pieces of value in the shop. Mattiuzzi planned to put the watches on his arm in case of any emergency.
“She’s a different sort of girl. I see these wristwatches on every other woman in Glasgow. Don’t get me wrong, they’re lovely. But I want something memorable.”
“What sort of a gift is this?”
“A special one.”
“Tell me about her.”
“She’s beautiful.”
“Good for you.”
“Yes. And she’s a nurse.”
“Your instinct to buy her a watch is a good one. She needs a watch fob. All the nurses wear them. I have one that I refurbished that’s available for sale. But it’s expensive. It’s an antique. One of a kind. Would you like to see it?”
McVicars nodded. Mattiuzzi went to the back room and returned with the watch fob. His plan was to have a middleman sell the piece on commission, in case Mattiuzzi needed cash later.
“Why is the face upside down?” McVicars asked as he studied it.
“A nurse needs a timepiece she can read at a glance without having to move her wrist to check the time. There’s a second hand. It’s jeweled movement, which means it tells time exactly—it is never off by a second. Important when taking a pulse.”
“I like the stone.”
“You’ll never see anything like it in all of Scotland, or the British Isles really.”
“Would you engrave it?”
Mattiuzzi looked back at his son. The engraving pen and plate had already been packed. Piccolo shook his head no.
“I’m sorry, sir, we are not able to engrave it.”
“It needs to be engraved. I would like it to say, Domenica and John. I came to you because she’s Italian. I figured you would do your best for her.”
“Is she in Italy now?”
“No, sir, she is thankfully working here in Scotland at the convent in Dumbarton.”
Mattiuzzi thought to warn the man that his future fiancée could be in danger. An Italian national in Scotland was not safe from accusations of the fifth column. But Mattiuzzi couldn’t be certain the captain wasn’t on a fishing expedition to find out how much the Italian Scots knew about the potential roundup. As for the recommendation from Antica, the ice cream peddler knew everyone—that was hardly a ringing endorsement. Mattiuzzi kept quiet.
“You don’t have to etch both our names—just our initials would be fine. J and D. Please. I’m going to ask her to marry me.”
“In that case then . . .” Mattiuzzi brought the watch fob to his son.
Piccolo whispered, “Papa, I packed the tools.”
“Unpack them. Do as the man asks.”
* * *
The rolling hills and lawns on the grounds of Notre Dame de Namur glistened in soft folds of green. The red roses that surrounded the statuary of the Blessed Mother were in bloom. Fuchsia peony buds dangled from delicate branches along the walkways, ready to burst open at any moment.
The May Day garden was in bloom with pink azaleas and blue hyacinths. The reflecting pool was dotted with lacy white lilies that floated on midnight blue water. The Sisters who prayed there called their pond a “mirror of heaven.”
John McVicars paced back and forth in front of the convent.
Sister Matelda peeked out through the curtains on the main floor. “He’s wearing a path on the lawn.”