“Yes. His wife? Not so much.”
“She’s begging us to come to America.” Agnese stood over her husband as he read.
“She makes New York City sound wonderful.”
“Maybe we should think about it. I could help Freda with the girls and the new baby. Venezia is not what it used to be. I don’t want to live in a place where we’re not welcome. You could work with Ezechiele. He says there is more cutting to do than he can manage. They have shop after shop of cutters in the diamond district. Can you imagine? Streets of cutters.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“You’d better think fast.” Agnese placed dinner on the table.
“I don’t need to think because you’ve already made your decision.” Speranza tasted the artichoke.
“You make it sound like I’m the padrone when I’m your obedient wife. Wherever you go, I will go. Just like Ruth and Naomi. You don’t go? I stay too.” She patted him on the shoulder.
Agnese had made Speranza’s favorite meal. She had one artichoke, which she split open and roasted in the fire. She made cannoli stuffed with chicken roasted with garlic and onions, bathed in a butter and lemon sauce. She made the shells out of the last bit of flour she had in the bin. Goffredo had brought her a chicken he found on the piazza. She wrung its neck, plucked, washed, and roasted it, just as she had when times were good.
When night fell, they ate by the light of the traditional Shabbos candles. Before Speranza closed the shutters to the brisk night air, he leaned out and looked up and down the canal. The torches flickered, reflecting light on the surface of the pale blue-green water, which formed a path of light to the sea.
“Do you see something?” Agnese asked.
“A way out,” he replied before pulling his head back.
“You know, we don’t have to go all the way to America immediately. Cabrelli invited us to stay with them. They’re in the mountains above Viareggio.”
“What’s the difference between Venezia and the other coast of Italy? Both are crawling with Fascisti. No, the only place we can go is America.”
“Va bene. I will make a plan,” Agnese offered.
“I’ve been soldering medals for the Fascisti. They know where we live. The government needs the jewelers to make the claptrap. Medals and pins. Regalia. All of it.”
“Good. Let them think you approve of them.” There was a knock at the door.
Agnese quickly blew out the Shabbos candles and moved the small candelabra to the windowsill. The last thing they needed was a stranger observing them as they practiced their faith. Agnese nodded. Speranza answered the door.
“Goffredo!” Speranza was relieved to see his friend in the doorway. “Come in.”
Goffredo’s eyes followed the tendrils of smoke that remained in the air from the Shabbos candles. Agnese waved her hand through the air to clear it. “Thank you for the chicken. Won’t you join us?”
“Grazie, but I can’t. I came here to tell you that your paperwork at the passport office was kicked upstairs.”
“This is good news!” Agnese clasped her hands together in gratitude.
“No, it means they won’t let you travel. I tried to pull your paperwork, saying it was a mistake, but they caught it and flagged you.”
“But they’re issuing passports!” Speranza insisted.
“Not anymore.”
“What do you recommend we do?”
“You could go to your farm.”
“I believe the city is safer,” Speranza said.
“But it isn’t.”
“How much time do we have?”
“The morning. I wanted you to know what I heard. What I saw. They don’t follow the law. You’re good people, but the world has gone mad.”
“But the good people haven’t gone mad, have they?”
“Forgive me; I tried. I am not in charge.”
Speranza opened the door so Goffredo could leave. He looked left and right before slipping down the dark street. Speranza closed the door behind him. “What do you think that was all about?”
“He had papers in his coat pocket. He’s just the messenger.”
“What do you want to do, Agnese?”
She didn’t answer her husband. She needed to think.
* * *
Agnese spent the night packing her most precious possessions away. She hid the silver under the floorboards and placed her china in a basket hidden deep in her closet. She packed a bag for her husband and one for herself. She bathed, washed her hair, and put on her best dress as the sun came up. She made breakfast. Agnese lifted the pan of steamed milk off the stove and poured it into the bowl with the espresso. She put out the heels of the challah bread to dunk into it. Speranza sat down at the table.