“We never begged. We survived. Where’s your gratitude? Our house was still standing when we came home. Others were not so lucky.”
“I do not want Silvio Birtolini at my Christmas table.”
“Well, I do.”
“Have you asked your daughter how she feels about this?”
“I’m going to surprise her.”
“You’ll surprise her right out of this house. She will not be pleased.”
“They’re old friends.”
“Pietro, you are such an innocent. I’m ashamed for you.”
“I don’t want my new employee to spend Christmas alone.”
“Did you invite Isabella? She’s your employee too.”
“She has a family.”
“That she comes by honestly.”
“Netta. Enough.” Cabrelli did not raise his voice, but his tone was firm. “Silvio has paid his penance in full for a mistake that he did not make. This is a good and honest man. We have no room in this house for your prejudice. It’s Christmas. Humble yourself like the poor shepherd.”
* * *
Matelda ran into her grandmother’s kitchen, followed by Domenica. Matelda peeled off her mittens and hat. “Nonna, Signore Birtolini drove the carriage on the sand.”
“On the beach?” Netta forced a smile.
“All the way to Spiaggia della Lecciona and back,” Domenica confirmed as she collected Matelda’s coat and mittens.
“Yes, and it was so much fun.” Matelda jumped up and down. “He had bells on the bridle, and he let me shake them when he brought the horse back to Signore Giacometti. I told Signore Birtolini that we had snow in Scotland, so he said to pretend the sand was snow, and I did.”
“Let’s go, Matelda. Out of these wet clothes.” Domenica followed Matelda up the stairs.
“Hang the coat on the rod in the bathroom, please,” Netta called off to them.
Silvio stood in the doorway in his coat and hat. “Next time I hope you’ll join us on the carriage ride, Signora Cabrelli.”
Netta sniffed. “If I have the time, maybe. Thank you for taking Matelda. Children love a carriage ride at Christmas.”
“May I help with dinner?”
“The fire in the dining room is going out. The wood is stacked under the house.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Silvio closed the front door behind him.
“Good thing he didn’t take his coat off,” Cabrelli commented as he entered the kitchen. “You put him to work.”
“He’s on his best behavior. All men are models of civility at first. We’ll see how long it lasts.”
“He is a good friend to your daughter. And now your granddaughter.”
“As long as he stays that way and as long as that’s all he is to them, I am fine with it.”
“Netta, you are such a romantic.” Cabrelli took his wife in his arms, pulled her close, and smothered her with kisses. She beat off his advances with her spatula. “Let me go, old man.”
Cabrelli released her.
“My daughter didn’t lose her first husband, a decorated sea captain, to wind up with an apprentice.” Netta straightened her apron.
“He won’t be an apprentice for long.”
* * *
Silvio dried the last of the dinner dishes and placed it on the shelf with the others. Netta Cabrelli’s kitchen was pristine and orderly once more. Silvio made sure to put every platter and plate away where they belonged.
Domenica joined him in the kitchen.
“That was fast,” Silvio said.
“Matelda couldn’t stop talking about the carriage ride. All that fresh air was good for her. She went right to sleep.”
“Or was it your mother’s Christmas cake?”
“Maybe a little of both.” Domenica laughed.
“What did you think?”
She whispered, “The cake was a little dry.”
“I meant the carriage ride.”
“When my daughter’s happy, so am I.”
“You’ve done a good job with Matelda. She’s very sweet and polite.”
“Thank you.” Domenica picked up the mopeen and placed it on the hook to dry. “Why did you do the dishes?”
“To impress your mother.”
“Let me know if you’re successful.”
“Signora has a long memory. She thinks of me as the fat little boy that went around town stealing maps. Now she’ll think of me as the dinner guest who washed the dishes, I hope. Do you feel like a walk?”