Having instructed Billy how to lay out the cutlery, I figured I’d have to tighten up his work once he was finished. But when it came to setting places, it turned out Billy was a natural. It looked like he had positioned each fork, knife, and spoon with his ruler and compass.
As we stood back to admire our work, he asked if tonight was going to be a special dinner.
—Exactly.
—Why is it a special dinner, Duchess?
—Because it’s a reunion, Billy. A reunion of the Four Musketeers.
The kid broke out in a big smile over that one, but then his brow furrowed. With Billy Watson there was never more than a minute between the smile and the furrow.
—If it’s a special dinner, what are we going to eat?
—An excellent question. At the request of one Woolly Martin, we are going to have a little something known as Fettuccine Mio Amore. And that, my friend, is as special as it gets.
* * *
? ? ?
After getting Billy to write out a shopping list of all the ingredients we would need, we were off to Arthur Avenue, driving at a speed of three hundred questions an hour.
—What’s Arthur Avenue, Duchess?
—It’s the main drag in the Italian section of the Bronx, Billy.
—What’s an Italian section?
—It’s where all the Italians live.
—Why do all the Italians live in one place?
—So they can mind each other’s business.
What’s a trattoria, Duchess?
What’s a paisano?
What’s an artichoke and pancetta and tiramisu?
* * *
? ? ?
When we returned a few hours later, it was too early to start cooking, so having confirmed that Billy’s mathematics were up to snuff, I took him into Woolly’s brother-in-law’s office to do a little accounting.
Seating him at the desk with a pad and pencil, I lay down on the rug and rattled off all the expenses that Woolly and I had racked up since leaving St. Nick’s. The six tanks of gas; the room and board at two Howard Johnson’s; the beds and towels at the Sunshine Hotel; and the two meals at the diner on Second Avenue. To be on the safe side, I had him add an extra twenty for future outlays, then tally the whole list under the heading of Operational Expenses. Once we recovered Woolly’s trust from the Adirondacks, these costs were to be reimbursed to Emmett before a single dollar was divvied.
In a separate column under the heading of Personal Expenses, I had Billy include the long-distance call to Salina; the ten bucks for Bernie at the Sunshine Hotel; the bottle of whiskey for Fitzy; the champagne and companionship at Ma Belle’s; and the tip for the doorman at the Empire State Building. Since none of these outlays were essential to our shared endeavor, I figured they should come out of my end.
At the last second, I remembered the expenditures on Arthur Avenue. You could argue that they belonged under the Operational Expenses since we’d all be eating them together. But with an ah-what-the-hell, I told Billy to put them in my column. Tonight, dinner was on me.
Once Billy had all the numbers down and he’d double-checked his sums, I encouraged him to take out a fresh sheet of paper and transcribe the two tallies. At a suggestion like that, most kids would have wanted to know why after doing the job once, they had to do it all over again. But not Billy. With his instinctive preference for the neat and tidy, he took out a new piece of paper and began duplicating his work with the same precision that he had laid out the forks and knives.
When he was finished, Billy nodded his head three times, giving the tally his patented seal of approval. But then his brow furrowed.
—Shouldn’t it have a title, Duchess?
—What did you have in mind?
Billy thought about it for a second while biting the end of his pencil. Then after writing it out in big capital letters, he read: —The Escapade.
Now, how do you like that?
* * *
? ? ?
When the expense report was finished, it was after six o’clock—time to start cooking. After laying out the ingredients, I taught Billy everything that Lou, the chef at Leonello’s, had taught to me. First, how to make a basic tomato sauce from canned tomatoes and a soffritto （What’s a soffritto, Duchess?）。 Once that was on the stove, I showed him how to properly dice the bacon and properly slice the onion. Taking out a saucepan, I showed him how to properly sauté them together with the bay leaves. How to simmer them in white wine with oregano and pepper flakes. And finally, how to stir in one cup of the tomato sauce, and not a teaspoon more.
—The important thing now, I explained, is to keep an eye on it, Billy. I’ve got to go to the washroom, so I want you to stand right where you are and occasionally give it a stir. All right?