Chapter 10: Tomato

Sal Aston met me at the kitchen door of his brownstone in a cardigan that hung off him.

He had lost eleven pounds in a week, and he still stood up straighter than anyone in the house.

"There she is," he said. "Come here, the water's boiling."

On the counter stood a white teapot, a kitchen timer shaped like an egg, and a saucer with one lemon wedge.

"You're making it yourself?" I said.

"My nurse said I could do small tasks. This is a very small task."

He dropped the tea leaves into the pot with a shaking hand and set the timer.

We stood there together listening to it tick.

"Why did Victor teach you?" I asked.

"He said somebody in this family ought to know it."

Sal watched the egg.

"I thought that was an odd thing to say about a girl he had known for two weeks," he said.

"I wasn't dating anyone then."

"No," Sal said. "You weren't."

The timer rang.

He poured the tea into a blue cup, set the lemon on the saucer's edge and handed it to me.

It was perfect.

I drank it standing in his kitchen, and my eyes stung, and I told myself it was steam.

"Thank you," I said.

"Don't thank me yet." He patted my arm. "Dinner is going to be long."

The dining room held fourteen people around a table made for twelve.

There were Sal's cousins and two aunts, and a pair of board members in matching blazers.

Dean Hollinger sat across from me in a yellow tie.

Marcy sat on my left, guarding her napkin.

Domenic sat on my right.

He had moved the place cards.

I knew because mine said Nadia, and his said Domenic, and the two cards were touching.

Victor sat at the far end beside an aunt, in a blue jacket, with his hair tied back.

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