Chapter 24: Sunday Lunch

Sunday lunch at the Sarcone house started at one, as it always had, and this time Wynne set the table herself.

She did it at noon, in jeans, with a stack of cards and a pencil behind her ear.

The dining room smelled of garlic and lemon.

Rosanna was in the kitchen in an apron, shouting at the cook about the gravy, and the cook was shouting back.

It was the happiest sound the house had made in two years.

"Left," Wynne said to the young man who was carrying chairs. "No, left. The widow gets the seat by the window, with a cushion."

"Yes, miss."

"Wynne."

"Yes, Wynne."

She took the last card, wrote on it, and carried it to the head of the long table.

It said Massimo.

She looked at it for a moment, then moved it down to the middle of the side, where anyone else would sit.

Then she put her own card across from it.

She stepped back and checked the angle.

It was exactly the seat Aurelio had picked on the last Sunday of his reign.

This time she knew who was choosing.

The capos came at one, in their good suits, with their wives and a white box of pastries.

The oldest brought a bottle of something from before the war and presented it to Massimo with both hands.

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