walked out.
Sophia sighed. She and Carlo said goodnight and went downstairs.
Lorenzo followed Uncle Enzo, who had entered his old room, the master bedroom, down the hall. Lorenzo glanced at the paintings of the Amalfi coast, where his parents were born and where Uncle Enzo still owned a villa and lemon groves. He would go there, maybe build a new life for himself. Over five thousand miles from Lita. He knew even that wouldn’t be enough. He’d already tried.
Uncle Enzo stood in the empty room, staring at his shoes. He turned when Lorenzo’s footsteps swished on the carpet.
“Your aunt Angela would love that girl.”
Lorenzo nodded. “We all miss her.”
“Having Lita here will be good for us all, like getting a little bit of Angela back.”
Uncle Enzo faced him and studied him. Lorenzo willed his face to become mask-like, but he saw from Uncle Enzo’s knowing expression he had seen the truth.
“I better go.” Lorenzo walked down the hall, Uncle Enzo behind.
“Leaving Pete to carry all Lita’s things?”
“I don’t think she has that much.”
“How would you know?”
“Fine, I’ll stay. Then I won’t have to come back tomorrow. We can talk business now.”
“No, it’s been a long day. I want a cup of coffee.”
Lorenzo knew this was an implicit request, so he trotted downstairs and went into the kitchen, where he got out the coffee and started the espresso brewing. Uncle Enzo entered a few minutes later and sat at the wide old oak table, which Aunt Angela used to knead bread dough on, or help him with homework when he was in elementary school. She had decorated the whole house and it showed especially in the bright kitchen, with its sandy white, lemon yellow, and Mediterranean Sea blue tiles, ample counter space, large white appliances, and ironwork handles on the many cabinets and drawers. Lita had still been exclaiming over it when he’d arrived a few hours before. She and Sophia had prepared angel hair pasta with roasted tomatoes and garlic and a mixed greens salad for dinner. He hadn’t seen Lita so happy in years. He had to give her this.
The front door creaked open and heels tapped across the hardwood floors.
“Lita,” Lorenzo said. He glanced at her with his blank expression before he turned to Uncle Enzo. “I’ll go help Pete.” He brushed past her, so close he had to grit his teeth and hold his breath a moment, but her scent followed him to the door, suffusing him with warmth.
He helped Pete carry the few boxes and suitcases upstairs.
“Wasn’t Lee home?” Lorenzo asked as they stacked the last of the boxes in a corner.
“Yeah,” Pete said. “He came with us to her mom’s to get those boxes. That woman is something else.” Lorenzo nodded. “I guess he stayed there to talk to her. Neither one of them seems too happy with Lita moving in here. But she’s excited about it. She can talk almost as much as Aunt Sophia, but more questions.”
“She was always like that,” he said.
He wanted to ask Pete more, wanted to tell him all about Lita and how enthusiastic she used to be, how curious she’d been when they talked about something she wanted to know about, like his family’s second home in Italy. But Lita and Uncle Enzo’s voices sounded closer.
“I’ll see you around,” he said.
Pete raised his eyebrows but said nothing, just lifted his hand in goodbye. Lorenzo jogged downstairs, passing Uncle Enzo and Lita as they reached the top.
“Are you leaving?” Uncle Enzo said.
Lorenzo continued down. “Yes, I’ll be by in the morning to talk business,” he said over his shoulder, not looking at them. Uncle Enzo said goodbye but Lita said nothing.
The next morning, Lorenzo arrived early, just after eight. He walked into the kitchen and stopped. Lita hummed while she poured a cup of coffee. She wore a pale pink cocktail dress with matching heels, her dark hair pulled back in a loose twist. He smoothed his hands over his pockets to dry them.
“Good
Sophia sighed. She and Carlo said goodnight and went downstairs.
Lorenzo followed Uncle Enzo, who had entered his old room, the master bedroom, down the hall. Lorenzo glanced at the paintings of the Amalfi coast, where his parents were born and where Uncle Enzo still owned a villa and lemon groves. He would go there, maybe build a new life for himself. Over five thousand miles from Lita. He knew even that wouldn’t be enough. He’d already tried.
Uncle Enzo stood in the empty room, staring at his shoes. He turned when Lorenzo’s footsteps swished on the carpet.
“Your aunt Angela would love that girl.”
Lorenzo nodded. “We all miss her.”
“Having Lita here will be good for us all, like getting a little bit of Angela back.”
Uncle Enzo faced him and studied him. Lorenzo willed his face to become mask-like, but he saw from Uncle Enzo’s knowing expression he had seen the truth.
“I better go.” Lorenzo walked down the hall, Uncle Enzo behind.
“Leaving Pete to carry all Lita’s things?”
“I don’t think she has that much.”
“How would you know?”
“Fine, I’ll stay. Then I won’t have to come back tomorrow. We can talk business now.”
“No, it’s been a long day. I want a cup of coffee.”
Lorenzo knew this was an implicit request, so he trotted downstairs and went into the kitchen, where he got out the coffee and started the espresso brewing. Uncle Enzo entered a few minutes later and sat at the wide old oak table, which Aunt Angela used to knead bread dough on, or help him with homework when he was in elementary school. She had decorated the whole house and it showed especially in the bright kitchen, with its sandy white, lemon yellow, and Mediterranean Sea blue tiles, ample counter space, large white appliances, and ironwork handles on the many cabinets and drawers. Lita had still been exclaiming over it when he’d arrived a few hours before. She and Sophia had prepared angel hair pasta with roasted tomatoes and garlic and a mixed greens salad for dinner. He hadn’t seen Lita so happy in years. He had to give her this.
The front door creaked open and heels tapped across the hardwood floors.
“Lita,” Lorenzo said. He glanced at her with his blank expression before he turned to Uncle Enzo. “I’ll go help Pete.” He brushed past her, so close he had to grit his teeth and hold his breath a moment, but her scent followed him to the door, suffusing him with warmth.
He helped Pete carry the few boxes and suitcases upstairs.
“Wasn’t Lee home?” Lorenzo asked as they stacked the last of the boxes in a corner.
“Yeah,” Pete said. “He came with us to her mom’s to get those boxes. That woman is something else.” Lorenzo nodded. “I guess he stayed there to talk to her. Neither one of them seems too happy with Lita moving in here. But she’s excited about it. She can talk almost as much as Aunt Sophia, but more questions.”
“She was always like that,” he said.
He wanted to ask Pete more, wanted to tell him all about Lita and how enthusiastic she used to be, how curious she’d been when they talked about something she wanted to know about, like his family’s second home in Italy. But Lita and Uncle Enzo’s voices sounded closer.
“I’ll see you around,” he said.
Pete raised his eyebrows but said nothing, just lifted his hand in goodbye. Lorenzo jogged downstairs, passing Uncle Enzo and Lita as they reached the top.
“Are you leaving?” Uncle Enzo said.
Lorenzo continued down. “Yes, I’ll be by in the morning to talk business,” he said over his shoulder, not looking at them. Uncle Enzo said goodbye but Lita said nothing.
The next morning, Lorenzo arrived early, just after eight. He walked into the kitchen and stopped. Lita hummed while she poured a cup of coffee. She wore a pale pink cocktail dress with matching heels, her dark hair pulled back in a loose twist. He smoothed his hands over his pockets to dry them.
“Good
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