“Will you stay long?”
“It may take a few days.”
He gave promises to stop by for coffee and to bring sweets to grandchildren.
Meanwhile, Nikki laid claim to a table and two plastic chairs, but Raoul sidled up to the bar and gestured for her to join.
“How are things going, Massimo?” he asked.
Massimo clucked his tongue and set two saucers on the glass bar, and two small spoons.
“Going, going…” Massimo leaned in, and spoke in a low tone. “What are you actually doing in the city? You can trust your old friend.”
Raoul raised an eyebrow. “Some case from long ago floated to the surface. They want my advice.”
“Of course, they need the best,” said Massimo.
“Do you still have that spare room in your house?” Raoul asked. “It would help to have a place to stay a few days while I take care of my business. It’s a long drive to Benevento.”
Massimo hesitated. “Oh, I don’t know, Raoul. It isn’t very tidy.”
Nikki was surprised. Her parents had always stayed with her when they came into Naples.
Raoul leaned on the bar with both forearms and spoke to Massimo in a confidential tone. “I’d ask Nikki or Gianni. But Gianni and Francesca have their hands full with the new baby. And I’m sure my daughter would like her privacy—”
“You’re welcome to stay with me,” she interjected.
Neither man seemed to hear.
“Alright, then,” said Massimo, finishing the drinks and setting them on the saucers. “I’ll ask my niece to help me clear it out.”
“Good! I’ll bring my bags around this afternoon.”
Raoul drained his espresso and smacked his lips.
“That’s exactly what I needed. Now, a cigarette. I’ll come back for that cornetto and another caffè. Excuse me!”
Nikki watched him stride away. When did he start smoking again? He’d surrendered the habit years ago.
“You know,” Massimo said, considering, “I wouldn’t do it for just anyone. But your father…well…I know he’s lonely since your mother passed. I think he could use an old friend.”
—
Nikki nursed her cappuccino. A few more customers came in and Massimo busied himself. When he produced Raoul’s second espresso and her father hadn’t returned, Nikki took the cups and pastries and went outside to find him.
Raoul was seated at an outdoor table with two men. They were laughing and smoking as if it was the 1980s again and Raoul Serafino was known for his lively conversation, excellent memory, and fairness. On weekend mornings, he used to hold arbitrations here, listening to arguments between neighbors, between brothers, sisters, husbands and wives. People trusted his nuanced judgments and, more often than not, followed his advice.
—
After Adriano died, Nikki’s parents moved away from the city, and retreated into the foothills of the Benevento countryside. Grief poisoned Beatrice. She became angry and closed, while Raoul seemed to simply surrender, as if all the air had left the room. The ebullient curiosity that had been so fundamental to him vanished. It was years before he gradually recovered some of his old enthusiasm. When Beatrice died, the scaffolding collapsed again. This morning was the first time Nikki had glimpsed her father as she remembered him. Not the shell of the man she’d come to expect, but fully alive and activated.
The two men sitting with Raoul stood up with exclamations of regret for leaving.
—
“I want to keep an eye on Massimo for a few days,” Raoul told Nikki when they were alone. “He was always a good friend to your mother and me. I think he’s lonely.”
He bit into his cornetto, and leaned over the table to keep the buttery flakes from falling on his shirt.
