Chapter 24: The Table

The new sign went up on a Friday in February, white letters on dark green.

It said Rosa's.

It was smaller than the old one, because Rosa had said a Ferraro name on that window had caused enough trouble.

Dante had signed his half of the building over to her in January.

He'd signed it in a lawyer's office, with his cousin's account closed and his lease debts hanging over him.

He had walked out without looking at his mother.

He lived in Providence now.

Gianna, I'd heard, had a job in a bakery there, and neither of them had called.

That was all I knew, and I found I didn't need more.

On the first Sunday of the reopening, I came in the front door with Bridget at two in the afternoon.

The bell rang over the door.

The long table in the back had been set for fourteen, with one tablecloth this time.

"She finally chose," Bridget said.

"It took a breakup."

"It took a lawyer."

Rosa came out of the kitchen in a clean white apron, with her hair pinned up and flour to her elbows.

She kissed me on both cheeks, and then she kissed Bridget on both cheeks, and Bridget stood there stiff and pleased.

"Sit, sit," Rosa said. "Luca is making the sauce. He thinks I don't know he is making it my way."

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