Olimpio looked down at the dog and cat. “What are we to do, my friends?” he said aloud. Olimpio turned to go back to bed, but instead of going to his side, he went to Matelda’s. He slid under the covers. He turned off the light. He put his hands behind his head and looked up at the dark ceiling as if it were a bare stage in a theater. Young Matelda appeared on the stage. He joined her in the moment that they first met. He watched their love story as it unfolded. He remembered what she wore, how she moved, her scent and her smile. She had been the only woman in his life he could talk to; believing this might be the key to a happy marriage, he kept the conversation going. He loved one woman, and what a woman she had been.
Beppe jumped up on the bed and rested his head on Olimpio’s chest. His master was gently petting the dog when he felt four cat feet walk up his leg to his chest. Argento proceeded to take a spot on the pillow between Olimpio and the headboard. The three mourners soon fell asleep and remained together until the sun rose.
CHAPTER 38
Glasgow
NOW
Here, Nonno.” Anina unlatched the seat-back tray table on the airplane in front of her grandfather.
“Don’t baby me, Anina.”
“You should baby me. Check your ticket. It’s August twenty-eighth. I was supposed to marry Paolo Uliana today.”
“Should we turn back?”
“Not anytime soon, Nonno.”
Olimpio smiled. “Did you read the contracts that I left for you?”
“Yes. I have some questions.”
“I hope I have the answers.”
“If you don’t, the lawyers will. You’re easy to work with, Nonno. You say what you mean.”
“Do I? Your grandmother called me a mule. And I can be. My people were farmers in the Lombardia. When I came to Toscana to work, your great-grandfather Silvio gave me a job. He trained me. I started out just like you.”
“When did he retire?”
“He didn’t. But I taught him something too. Silvio would cut stone seven days a week. If he didn’t have a commission, he would take in work from other jewelers to stay busy when the shop was fallow. I tried to explain that the fallow time was the gold. Fallow is when an artist dreams. Thinks. Imagines. The constant grind of the wheel wears down the gemstone and the artist along with it. You’ll never know how hard it was for me to convince him to turn off the wheel.”
“Did he ever do it?”
“By the end, my father-in-law understood what I was talking about. I’d catch him strolling on the boardwalk, stopping to drink from the fountains. He’d play cards in Boncourso’s garden with the other old men. He learned that if you keep your head down at the wheel, you don’t see what’s up. You miss life.”
* * *
By the time Olimpio and Anina picked up their luggage and made it through customs at the airport in Glasgow, Scotland, it was early afternoon. Their first appointment with a new buyer wasn’t until the next morning. They dropped their luggage at the hotel and set out on foot to explore the city for the first time.
The sun peeked in and out of periwinkle clouds that floated over the city in patches of blue. Glasgow’s neighborhood along the north end of the river Clyde was a mix of charming brick buildings, rambling factories, and new shops. High-rises with mirrored windows were set in the background reflecting the cityscape.
Olimpio and Anina entered the bronze doors of Saint Andrew’s Cathedral. The nave was bathed in golden light that poured into the church from the windows along the vaulted ceiling. The pale walls, light marble floors, and oak pews conjured a field of wheat in bright sun.
“It’s like being on the inside of a wedding ring,” Anina said to her grandfather. “A lot of gold.” They blessed themselves and genuflected at the main altar. Anina made her way to the alcove that held a statue of the Blessed Lady. She looked up at the serene Mother, hands extended, gown flowing as her foot crushed a plaster snake curled around a blue globe. Anina fished in her purse for change. Olimpio stood back as Anina deposited the coins into the box and lit a candle on the votive tray. She knelt, closed her eyes, and folded her hands in prayer. A few moments later, she stood and blessed herself. She turned to her grandfather. “Nonno, do you want to light a candle?”
“Did you light one for your grandmother?”
“I did.”
“We’re covered,” Olimpio said, but changed his mind as a particular thought caused his brow to furrow. He reached into his pocket, retrieved a coin, dropped it into the box, and lit a candle. He knelt to pray.