Gift of Fire

being able to authenticate almost anything. Apparently Mr. Quarrel did an article on fencing techniques for the journal?”
    Verity smiled complacently. “You’ve read it?”
    “I’m afraid not, although I’d certainly like to,” Elyssa said with great charm.
    “I just happen to have an extra copy,” Verity told her smoothly “I’ll let you have it. I’m sure you’ll find it very interesting. It’s a brilliant piece.”
    “I’m sure it is.”
    “What exactly did you want Jonas to authenticate?” Verity looked at Doug Warwick.
    “A sixteenth-century villa,” he replied promptly.
    Verity stared at him. “A villa? In Italy?” Visions of a vacation in the Italian countryside danced through her head. This might be even better than a trip to Hawaii.
    Doug gave her a level look over the rim of his tiny espresso cup. “I wish it were that simple. If Hazelhurst’s Horror were in Italy, I wouldn’t have the problem of trying to assure my buyers that it’s genuine. But since it’s located on an island up in the Pacific Northwest, things get complicated.”
    “Good grief,” Verity exclaimed. “How did a sixteenth-century Renaissance villa get to an island in the Northwest?”
    “It was taken apart in Italy before the turn of the century, shipped here to the States, and reconstructed by an eccentric relative of our late uncle, Eustis Hazelhurst. Our uncle Digby, who was just as nutty as his relative, inherited the place when Eustis died. Then, two years ago, our uncle died and I inherited the monstrosity.”
    “Doug put it up for sale immediately,” Elyssa explained. “Who can afford the taxes and upkeep on a thing like Hazelhurst’s Horror? It costs a fortune to maintain. A group of businessmen want to turn it into a resort. They’re very interested in the place, but they want proof that the villa is authentic before they pay what Doug is asking. So, Doug has decided to hire someone with a respectable academic reputation to look the place over and write a report for the buyers.”
    Doug set down his empty espresso cup. “In all fairness, you should know at the outset, Verity, that my sister has ulterior motives. She wants Mr. Quarrel to do a little treasure hunting while he’s checking out the villa.”
    “Buried treasure?” Verity was enthralled.
    Doug shrugged expressively. “Probably just a wild goose chase, but my uncle left enough evidence to whet the appetite. The treasure is supposedly buried somewhere in the villa.”
    “And I definitely think we should look for it before we sell the place,” Elyssa declared stoutly.
    Verity frowned. “If there was any treasure, wouldn’t it have been discovered when the place was taken apart for shipping?”
    It was Doug who answered. “That was my first thought, too. But apparently the villa was not literally taken apart stone by stone. Huge chunks of it were left intact. The workmen simply built a protective crate around the big pieces and put them on the boat. A lot of furniture and some artwork were also shipped over, but almost all of that is gone now. Poor Uncle Digby had to sell it off in order to keep the place going.”
    “Uncle Digby was convinced the treasure existed and that it was still somewhere in the villa. He spent years looking for it,” Elyssa explained. “It only makes sense to take a shot at it ourselves before we give up the place.”
    Doug smiled indulgently as he glanced at his sister. “If Mr. Quarrel is willing to take on both jobs at once, I’d like to hire him for a week.”
    It was time to do business. Verity smiled in a professional way. She hoped she didn’t look too eager. “You do understand that Jonas’s time is very valuable, and the sort of project you’re describing, a stone-by-stone examination of the villa, would be quite expensive.”
    “Oh,” said Elyssa, “we’re prepared to pay his going rate, whatever that is for a full week. Perhaps longer if necessary. Do you think Mr. Quarrel might be interested in the job?”
    “I think,” Verity said thoughtfully, “that Mr. Quarrel would be very interested.” Visions of an island vacation in a Renaissance villa swam in her mind. The Puget Sound was not the South Pacific, but sometimes you had to take what you could get. “I generally accompany him on consulting trips within the continental U.S.,” she said delicately.
    “We’d love to have you come along with him,” Elyssa said quickly. “We’d pay all expenses,