Genesis by Keith R. A. DeCandido Read Free Book Online Page B

the twenty-minute train ride Lisa had just taken. However, the train didn’thave to deal with red lights, winding roads, and, once they reached the city limits, traffic. Not to mention a driver who actually came to a full stop at stop signs. To Lisa, weaned on New York cab drivers, the latter was especially befuddling.
    Still and all, they finally arrived at an out-of-the-way street not too far from the middle of downtown Raccoon. The building they pulled in front of had a ten-step stoop that led to a single entryway with three doors. Two led to storefronts that took up the ground floor—a newsstand and a flooring place. The third led to an apartment-building lobby.
    It took Lisa a moment to realize that their destination was in the basement. Another staircase lay adjacent to the stoop, leading down to a door with a modest sign: CHE BUONO.
    â€œThat’s it?” Lisa asked.
    â€œDon’t judge a book by its cover.” Alice’s smile had turned mischievous. “First rule of Security Division.”
    The first thing she noticed when Alice opened the door was the smell: olive oil, garlic, tomato sauce, fish. It reminded her of Da Vittorio’s or Carmine’s in New York. Then she realized it was better than that: it reminded her of the trip to Venice she and Nick had taken—the last vacation they’d take together before his mother got sick.
    The last vacation they’d take together, period.
    â€œAlice! So good to see you!”
    Lisa had to look down to see the round face on the tiny body that had greeted them. The woman stood atonly five feet tall—if that—and her face was covered in wrinkles, none more pronounced than the smile lines around her mouth. She looked up at them with the happiest brown eyes Lisa had ever seen.
    â€œAnd who is this?”
    â€œThis is my coworker Lisa,” Alice said. “She’s from New York.”
    â€œBene, bene. Welcome to Che Buono, Lisa. Come, come, sit, sit,” the old woman said, waving her hand as she led the way into the small restaurant.
    There were only about half a dozen tables, covered in red-and-white checked tablecloths straight out of every pizza joint in the world.
    The little old lady seated them at one of the tables, Lisa taking the side with her back to the wall, Alice facing her. Lisa noticed pictures of Italy all around the place—Milan, Venice, Rome, all looking fairly recent—as well as one large painting over the door to the kitchen of the Ponte Vecchio in Florence.
    â€œThis is lovely,” Lisa said, a broad grin on her face. “Where’d you find this place?”
    â€œBy accident, honestly. I was walking around downtown one Valentine’s Day feeling sorry for myself because I was alone. I got hungry, but there wasn’t room anywhere—if you didn’t have a reservation, you were out of luck.”
    â€œExcept this place?”
    Alice nodded. “They don’t take reservations, and only about three-quarters of the tables were filled. I wound up having the best meal of my life. It’s run by asingle family, and it’s like eating at your aunt’s house.”
    Lisa fixed her companion with a dubious look. “Your last name is Abernathy.”
    â€œMy mother’s maiden name is Ferrara.”
    â€œAh.”
    A young woman with black hair, and a face that was a younger version of the old woman who led them in, came over and handed them menus. “Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked.
    Before Lisa could say anything, Alice said, “A bottle of the Chianti Classico.” Then she looked at Lisa with those penetrating pale eyes of hers. “You do like Chianti, yes?”
    â€œIt’s been so long since I had a decent glass of wine, I honestly don’t remember what I like.”
    The server nodded, and went off.
    Lisa glanced at the menu. “So are you still alone? Or is married life treating you well?”
    Half-smirking