His mother sighed. “We did our best, and even without my job, we’re not destitute. We still have our savings and the bonds they gave us when they took the house.”
“Right.” Sandro nodded, relieved. Under the laws, the deed to their old house had been transferred to a special government office, EGELI, and in return, his parents had been given thirty-year bonds. The transaction was a poor bargain, since the bonds weren’t for fair market value and didn’t gain maturity for thirty years.
“Massimo, don’t worry.” His mother put an arm around his father’s shoulders. “We have enough to keep us fed for a year, and perhaps by then, this nightmare will have passed. You handle the money, so you know better than I do.”
“Gemma, uh, there’s something I have to tell you.” His father’s lined face blanched. “We don’t have as much as you think we do. We have less than half.”
“What do you mean?” His mother frowned in bewilderment.
Sandro felt his stomach drop, but didn’t interrupt.
“Beh, it’s hard to explain.” His father began riffling through his papers. “I keep an accounting of the money I’ve withdrawn, over time. It’s in here somewhere.”
“What?” His mother recoiled, horrified. “You’ve been withdrawing money from our account? What for?”
“I’ve been giving out loans at the synagogue.”
“To whom?” His mother’s eyes flew open behind her glasses.
“I loaned it to my clients, until they get the exemption, or in case they don’t.” His father kept riffling through his papers, and his words began to speed up, rushing over one another. “Gemma, there are so many people worse off than we are, and when I’m sitting face-to-face with them, knowing we have more than they, I extend a helping hand. It’s as the Torah says, it’s tzedakah, righteous giving, charity, and justice that we should share what we have, and I assumed you would agree.”
“But they’ll never be able to repay it. Nobody has a job anymore.”
“I didn’t anticipate that you would lose your job, and even so, we should have gotten the exemption, that’s the thing, it was an injustice. I can show you on our original application—”
“Massimo, you shouldn’t have given away money, or lent it, when there’s talk of war. If that happens, we will need every penny.”
“Listen, both of you.” Sandro stood up, and a new sense of calm came over him. “We can’t look to the past. Papa, you can’t keep bringing up our exemption. Mamma, maybe he shouldn’t have lent money, but it’s gone now. We have to start over, going forward.”
His mother moaned, stricken. “But we don’t have enough to live on.”
“Mamma, I make some money. We have half of the savings you thought. I will sit down, balance the books, and account for it all. I’m fairly good with numbers, if you recall.”
“Wait, allow me to double-check one last thing.” His father returned his attention to his file of notes, but Sandro plucked it from his grasp.
“Papa, I’m going to hold on to this folder from now on.”
“My notes? No, no, no.” His father’s eyes flared with dismay. “Son, I need my notes—”
“I’ll keep them for you.”
As his father stared at him, Sandro realized that he was becoming the head of the household.
“Thank you, Sandro,” his mother said, forcing a smile.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Elisabetta
August 1939
Elisabetta should have been happy, but her chest felt tight. She and Marco headed for the fancy party at Palazzo Braschi, joining the throng of dressed-up couples filing inside. She still felt stunned by what Nonna had told her, that her mother and Marco’s father had been in a love affair, when Elisabetta was only a baby. She had always suspected that her mother had been unfaithful, but she never would have guessed it had been with Marco’s father.
Heads turned to admire her and Marco, and she supposed they made an attractive couple, she in her beautiful pink dress and new pumps, and Marco in his dark uniform, his hair shiny, his face tan from the sun. She didn’t know if she should tell him about their parents, or even if she should be seeing him, at all. Nonna had been firmly against it, but Elisabetta had been hoping to play the evening by ear. She loved Marco’s company, and the notion of the party had captivated her, too. She had been living the life of a much older person, working all the time, and she had felt so sad after Sandro’s rejection. She had to stop longing for him. He was gone.