“The Scarpone family killed our father and her mother. Their bodies were found, but my little sister was never heard of again. For some reason, the Scarpones still think she’s close and want her found. Or they did, before someone took them out.”
Scarpone. Scarpone. Scarpone.Why did the name sound so familiar?
“You recognize the name?”
It took me a minute to look at him. “No.” I shook my head. He was so intuitive that it was almost unnerving. “I thought…no.” It did sound familiar, though, but where had I heard it? “Why would I? I know the names here. I am assuming this is afamigliain America.”
He nodded but said nothing else. His mood slipped into the car. There was that danger again. It was coming out at the speed we were traveling at. He seemed to have an excess of it. It came out in creative ways when he wanted to burn some of it off.
“The opera,” I said, squeezing his hand. “Tell me more about it. Which was your favorite? The most memorable?”
“I haven’t been to that one yet.”
“No?”
“No.” He checked his mirror and then switched lanes. We were entering Milan. “The most memorable will be the one where you sit next to me. Not as a girl out on a date with a man, but a woman out on a date with her husband.”
“I look forward to that,” I breathed out, and then kissed his hand.
* * *
Comparingmyself to the rest of the world made me feel the time I spent in hiding, though I did not feel like I had missed much.
Milan was busier than what I was used to. I stood in the midst of the crowded galleria, watching as hundreds of people passed without noticing me. They were too busy taking pictures in front of the many boutiques with famous names.
“Look,” Adriano said, nodding down.
The floor mosaic was created to pay homage to Rome, Florence, Turin, and Milan. Four coats of armor were created. Adriano nodded toward the bull representing Turin.
“According to legend, you have to keep the heel of your right foot on the bull’s balls while spinning counterclockwise. It brings good luck.”
“I think I have plenty of that,” I said and smiled at him.
He started laughing, his cheeks puffing out. “Savage,” he said, shaking his head.
I turned to see if Corrado was still on the phone. After we had arrived, he said he had a call to make. His eyes were on me as he spoke to whoever. He nodded toward the boutique across from where we stood.
“Come on,” Adriano said. “He’ll meet us inside. It’ll give you a chance to look around.”
I sighed, not sure if I was prepared for this. Mostly, I was a simple woman. I enjoyed being outside, or making my candles. Fancy clothes were not something I indulged in. That was why my wedding gown felt so special. It was an occasion to dress up, to appreciate the feel of the fine lace and silk against my body, to feel like the most beautiful woman in the world when my husband looked at me.
All of this—I looked around once more before I entered the shop—seemed like excess.
Adriano held the door for me before I could open it.
“Grazie,” I said, entering in before him.
The shop was empty except for a few women who loafed around the boutique, straightening shoes and rearranging jewelry in glass cases. As if in a sci-fi movie, their heads popped up all at once.
They said nothing to me. I said nothing to them. I moved around the displays and then laughed nervously when I noticed a price tag on one of the shirts.
“This cannot be,” I said, narrowing my eyes. There were too many zeros for such a plain top.
“It is,” Adriano said, sticking close to me. “Get used to it. Corrado doesn’t usually flaunt, but he has expensive tastes.”
“Can I help you?”
Adriano and I looked at the saleswoman who decided to leave her station and offer help.
