“Giorgio,” she said quietly, “I’ve tried not to dwell on it like your father – ”
“Mama,” I warned.
“But your job – ”
“Mama.”
“I just want you to be happy,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “And safe. Is that so horrible?”
“I’m happy, Mama,” I said with a smile, and hugged her. “I’m very happy.”
But I couldn’t bring myself to sayI’m safe.
At least she didn’t say anything more about it. Instead, she just continued preparing lunch.
70
Lunch was great. Besides Caterina – Valentino’s wife – my mom’s cooking was the best I’d ever tasted.
There wasribollita,a soupmade of beans, kale, celery, and day-old bread.Pici all’aglione,the local pasta with garlic sauce and hot peppers. There were porcini mushrooms sauteed in garlic and butter, a salad with breadcrumbs, a selection of cheeses, and Mama’s specialty: tripe spiced with saffron.
Iloved it, although when Emilia asked my mother what it was, I quickly butted in. “Beef.”
What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
Turns outsheloved it, too.
We were all sipping on Papa’s homemade wine and enjoying the warm autumn weather when things took a turn for the worse.
“So how did you two meet?” Serafina asked eagerly.
“My boss’s wife has a dress shop,” I answered. “Emilia works next door.”
Serafina turned to Emilia. “Ooh – what do you do for a living?”
“Nothing important,” Emilia said with an apologetic smile. “I just work in a café.”
“I’dloveto work in a café in Florence!” Serafina said excitedly.
“It’s a very beautiful city,” Emilia admitted.
“Your boss’s wife owns a dress shop?” Giancarlo asked in surprise.
“Yeah,” I answered. “Well, it’s opening soon.”
“She just runs it?”
“No, she designs all the dresses, too.”
“Huh,” Giancarlo said.
“What?”
“I just wouldn’t have thought the wife of a…”
Giancarlo trailed off and glanced nervously over at Papa.
Shit.
