Chapter 20: Her Terms

On Friday at closing time Ettore came into the shop and put an envelope on the marble.

"That's backwards," Cecilia said. "I pay you."

"I know. It's the deed."

She went still with a tray of rolls in her hands.

"The lease," he said. "It's been in your name since Tuesday. The building, too."

"You had your lawyer do this without asking me," she said.

"Yes."

"You did it behind my back."

"Yes. I'm telling you now, before you can find it in a tin."

She set down the tray.

She looked at the envelope for a long time.

Then she took four hundred dollars out of the till, counted it onto the marble, and slid it across to him.

"What's this?"

"The price of the building," she said. "Four hundred. It's what I'd have paid you in rent this week."

"It's worth a good deal more."

"A dollar would be fine, you said."

His mouth twitched.

"Sold," Ettore said.

He kept a single dollar and pushed the rest back across the marble.

She laughed, and he did not stop looking at her.

She turned the sign and locked the door and went to the stairs without a word, and he followed her up.

In her father's kitchen she pulled out a chair and sat him in it.

She stood in front of him with her arms folded.

"My terms," she said.

"I'm listening."

"One. I keep my name. I stay Fontana on the door, on the cards, on everything."

"Yes."

"Two. The shop is mine. I run it. You don't send anyone to help me."

"Yes."

"Three. I do not sit behind you."

"If your council has a problem, it can say so to my face, and I'll bring the rolls."

"Yes."

"Four. Santi has his Saturdays here. Whatever his mother says."

"Fine," Ettore said.

"Don't say fine like that."

"Yes. Four, yes, I'd have asked it myself."

"Five." She unfolded her arms. "Before you decide anything that is mine, you ask me. Anything. Even the small things."

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