“Okay.”
“We’ll be down in five minutes.”
“…five?” I said dubiously, but with a dose of humor.
Bianca was chronically late, even by Italian standards. She always had to make sure her outfits were immaculate.
“Make it twenty,”Adriano grumbled.
Thirty minutes later, the doorman opened the door for them to walk out onto the street – but Bianca looked gorgeous, as always.
I looked at her admiringly as I opened the rear passenger door for her.
Man, ALL the Rosolinis’ wives are beautiful.
Although, for my money, there was a certain barista I knew who could give them a run for their money.
I drove to Fiesole, a rich neighborhood to the north. It was the same place I’d taken Adriano, Massimo, and Lars the night that Mezzasalma killed the Agrellas and burned their mansion down.
A month ago, Adriano had bought Bianca’s parents a very nice house with a spectacular view of Florence. That was where we were heading.
I pulled the car into the circular cobblestone drive in front of their front door. A beautiful stone fountain, probably a couple of hundred years old, trickled water like a stream.
As I opened Bianca’s car door, her parents came out of the house.
“Paperotta!”her father cried out happily.
‘Paperotta’meant ‘little duck’ – a cute childhood nickname, most likely.
Bianca kissed her parents, and they hugged Adriano.
Then Mr. Lettieri smiled at me. “Come in, come in!” he said as he slapped my arm affectionately.
I liked the Lettieris a lot. They were good people who never put on airs. Even though I was their son-in-law’s employee, they always welcomed me into their home just as they would any other guest.
I followed Bianca and Adriano into a beautiful foyer with high wooden ceilings and tiled mosaic floors. Mr. Lettieri shut the doors behind us.
“You look so pretty!” Mrs. Lettieri said to her daughter as they walked arm in arm. She plucked at the material of Bianca’s dress. “Did you design this one?”
She laughed. “No, Mama, I bought it.”
“Everything going well?” Mr. Lettieri asked Adriano.
“Can’t complain,” he said with a smile.
Adriano was a totally different guy around his in-laws. Always chill, never moody or angry.
Mrs. Lettieri looked at me apologetically. “We’ve only set the table for four, I’m afraid – ”
“It’s fine,” I reassured her. “I’m working.”
“I know, I know – but we have a place set for you in the kitchen. Same food as us – have as much as you want, including the wine!”
“He’s driving,” Adriano said with an arched eyebrow. “So he can have aglass.”
I grinned. “You got it, boss.”
Mrs. Lettieri showed me to a fancy kitchen with brand-new appliances. There was a table in the corner with small plates and bowls filled with delicious-looking food. There was also a bottle of sparkling water and a newly opened bottle of wine –goodstuff, too. The Lettieris weren’t holding back.
