The Vendetta by Kecia Adams

main rooms earlier today with Gran, tonight’s venture into deep storage had a furtive, dark feel. Well, she’d wanted to find out more about the collection and the Rembrandt. She had a feeling her wish was about to be granted. They turned into a narrow hallway, and Lisa saw her grandmother, swathed in extra shawls, sitting in her wheelchair next to a door.
    “I have brought her, ma’am,” said Katya.
    “Yes, yes, I see.” Donna Giovanna made an impatient gesture. “You may go now, Katya. Lisa will bring me back to my room.”
    Katya hesitated, then nodded, handing her flashlight to Lisa. “Yes, ma’am.”
    After the housekeeper disappeared around the corner, Lisa cast a worried glance over Gran’s features. Her skin was almost translucent in the dim lighting of the corridor, but her eyes held a strange burning intensity. “Gran, maybe we should wait for morning. You seem—”
    Gran cut her off with a sharp gesture, then pulled out a large key and handed it to Lisa. “Please open that door. I want to show you something.”
    “All right, Gran.” She calmly took the key and turned to the door. “But this is all a bit mysterious. You sure it can’t wait till morning?”
    “No.”
    OK, then. Lisa turned the key and pushed open the door. She handed the key back to her grandmother and carefully maneuvered the wheelchair over the threshold and around a stack of paintings. The room was not large, and seemed to be additional storage for the same type of items that had been in the other basement areas. But at the back of the room, a large steel door took up one entire wall.
    “Over there, child. The safe.”
    Lisa wheeled Gran to the wall and watched as Gran punched a code into the safe’s keypad. There was a series of electronic beeps and whirrs, and then the door popped open.
    “Who else has that code?” asked Lisa. She rubbed her hands over her arms, suddenly cold.
    “Only my lawyers, in a safe deposit box,” said the principessa.
    “What about your curator, Van Alstrand? Or Signore Carnavale?”
    Gran gave her a sharp, knowing look. “Why would I give them access to my secrets?”
    Lisa felt a burn in her chest. She took a calming breath, shoving her hands into her robe’s pockets, and met the principessa’s gaze. “There are secrets in here? Why would you give me access to them?”
    “You are family, Annalisa.” The principessa shrugged. “You will need the knowledge someday. Now go.” She made a flicking motion with her hand, her rings flashing in the low light.
    The burn in her chest intensified. Family. Yes, she supposed she was Gran’s only family—and Gran was hers. Lisa pushed the vault door wider and walked in. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. It was an eerie feeling, entering a room that could lock behind her. Here, too, paintings stood stacked on the wall, tucked on either side of covered sculptures. Drawers, all clearly labeled, covered the whole back wall. A rush of cold air met her skin, and she shivered. The quicker she did what Gran asked, the quicker she could be out of this metal cave. “OK, Gran, what do you want me to see?”
    “Pull out the drawer toward the middle of the left column. It is marked ‘Self-portraits.’”
    Lisa followed Gran’s instructions, finding an unframed canvas resting face down on archival drawer liner.
    “There are some gloves in the small drawer on your right. Put them on before you handle the painting.”
    Lisa’s mouth drew into a line at her grandmother’s barked out orders, but she obeyed to the letter. She was unbearably curious, especially considering Gran had brought her down here in the middle of the night. Obviously, this was all about the Rembrandt—perhaps Gran’s biggest secret of all. She was finally going to get to see this famed painting. She lifted the canvas—which was no more than about twelve inches square—from the drawer.
    “Bring it over here and set it on this easel.”
    “Yes, Gran.” Lisa slipped out the