Chapter 5: Family Dinner on Taylor Street

Nina listened to the whole story with a cannoli in her hand and did not take a bite.

When Odessa finished, Nina set the cannoli down on its paper.

"So the guy who bought our building," she said slowly, "who calls the shop 'the little shop,' who corrected how Mom holds a fork."

"That's him," Odessa said.

"I'm in."

"Nina."

"I'm in, Elise. Don't make the face." She turned to Odessa. "Do you like pastry? Because I'm going to feed you until this is over."

"I like pastry very much," Odessa said, and for a second her eyes were wet.

She didn't.

On Sunday, Hugh came to dinner on Taylor Street.

My mother had set the long table in the back of the bakery, under the framed photograph of my father in his apron.

She had put out the good tablecloth and a lemon cake in the middle.

Nina sat across from me with her knee jammed against mine.

My phone lay face up in my lap, under the napkin.

ODESSA: Record everything. Everything he says about the shop.

I pressed the red button with my thumb.

Hugh arrived at six on the dot, with a bottle of wine, a bouquet of white roses, and his mother.

She was a tall silver-haired woman in pearls, and she carried a flat white box in both hands.

She kissed my mother on both cheeks and looked past her at the bakery.

"How charming," she said. "It's very small."

"It's very ours," my mother said.

We sat. We ate.

Hugh was wonderful. I hated how wonderful he was.

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