The Coming of Fabrizze: A Novel (Black Squirrel Books)

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Authors: Raymond Decapite
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say?”
    â€œSome say this and some say that. But they all say that Grace Mendone is good to be with. So good to be with that a proposal has been made.”
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œIt’s what they say.”
    â€œAnd they speak of you,” said Grace. “May I ask you something? Is there work on the railroad for my grandfather?”
    â€œCan he do it?”
    â€œHe is good company,” said Grace.
    â€œCan I talk with him?”
    â€œHe works three days a week in the market. Do you have time to come and visit us tonight?”
    â€œI’ll be here early.”
    â€œWe’ll be waiting.”
    â€œI’ll be waiting longer,” said Fabrizze.
    It was a splendid evening.
    Mendone never once stopped talking. His bald head was aglow and his fine white moustache followed the joyous curve of his mouth. Fabrizze listened to the singsong of talk and watched Grace out of the corner of his eye. Her pale dark beauty struck him speechless. Suddenly he was afraid to turn and look at her. He leaned forward in his chair and fixed his glance on Mendone. The old man was delighted and drew his own chair closer.
    â€œIt’s years ago I came to America,” said Mendone. “I had a taste for money and power and corn meal. The com meal was for balance. My brother took me aside before I left. ‘Your appetites change now that you change countries?’ he said. ‘No, no,’ I told him. ‘I’m changing countries because of my appetites.’ ‘You aim low,’ he said. ‘Why not put in strength of character as a thing to strive for?’ ‘Very good,’ I said. ‘From this moment I put in strength of character, and take out the corn meal.’ It was all a dream, Fabrizze, except for the corn meal.”
    â€œHe is here to see you about work,” said Grace.
    â€œI clean vegetables in the market,” said Mendone. “Lettuce and carrots and cabbage. I’m good for nothing else.”
    â€œShame on you,” said Grace.
    Fabrizze blushed in delight.
    â€œIt’s a strange thing,” said Mendone. “In Italy I was as sure of my talents as of the fact there were no opportunities. I came here. Now I’m as sure of the opportunities as of the fact I have no talents. I sit in the sun with a cabbage in my hands. What do you make of it?”
    â€œIt’s nonsense,” said Grace. “You were too old when you came.”
    â€œI lived alone for a time,” said Mendone. “I managed to put a little money on this house. And then I sent for the girl. Her mother is dead, and my son married again.”
    â€œI believe there’s a job for you,” said Fabrizze.
    â€œSuch an old man?”
    â€œOne of the men was over seventy,” said Fabrizze. “His name is Bassetti and he just left off a few weeks ago. I can put you on as my assistant for a while.”
    â€œYou mean until they find out,” said Mendone. “Really though, it’s kind of you. Let me tell you how happy I am that you are here. And the girl is happier still. Why? Because you came to see me about the work.”
    â€œBut he did,” said Grace.
    â€œWhich of us is the fool here?” said Mendone. “Let it rest then. Stay a little, my boy. Mancini is coming downstairs for a game of cards. Pass the evening with us.”
    â€œI’ll be here until you send me away,” said Fabrizze.
    He made three visits a week during the next month. Mancini was always there. The carpenter had black eyes and a mop of black hair splashed with gray. He was suspicious the first time he saw Fabrizze. He drank more wine than anyone and he played every card like a trump.
    â€œA man called Gritti works with me,” said Fabrizze. “Is it true you came from Sicily with him?”
    â€œHe came with me!” said Mancini, playing a trump. “Gritti can’t put a nail in the wall! I wouldn’t trust him with a

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