Chapter 8: Welcome Home, Allegra

Dario's dining room held eighty people, and every one of them was looking at the door.

I sat at the long table in a black gown beside Vincenzo, with my hand in his under the cloth.

It was Friday, and the welcome-home dinner was at nine.

At ten past, the doors opened.

A woman came in wearing white.

She walked slowly, so that everyone could see.

Her hair was long and dark and loose over one shoulder.

She had a small mark by her eyebrow, and dark eyes, and my face.

There was no other way to say it.

I was looking at myself in a dress I would never have chosen.

Eighty people gasped at once.

Somebody dropped a glass.

I gripped Vincenzo's hand, and he gripped back so hard that my knuckles hurt.

The woman stopped in the middle of the floor and put both hands to her chest.

"Vincenzo," she said, and her voice broke beautifully. "I'm home."

Dario was already moving toward her with his arms open and tears running down his round face.

"My girl," he said. "My dear, dear girl. Three years."

He folded her into his arms.

Over her shoulder, he looked at Vincenzo.

He did not look at me.

Eighty people stood up and began to applaud.

I stayed in my chair because I could not feel my legs.

The woman crossed the room, and every step was perfect.

She stopped in front of Vincenzo and tilted her face up.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" she whispered. "After all this time?"

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