The House in Amalfi by Elizabeth Adler Read Free Book Online

and was instantly transported back in time. I was that little girl again, balancing on the bar’s brass rail with powdered chocolate and cappuccino foam on my nose, flirting with Angelo. . . .
    “Ciao, bella.”
Angelo’s familiar voice sent my eyes flying open. “It
is
you, Lamour Harrington, isn’t it?” His smile as he reached for my hand was so familiar, so warm, I beamed. “Welcome home,
cara.
What took you so long?” he said.
    I clutched his hand in both mine, hardly able to believe it was true. Of course Angelo’s hair was gray and his olive-skinned face was broader and crisscrossed with lines and maybe his teeth were not so big and white and shiny as I remembered, but his warm brown eyes with their long straight lashes were the same, and they welcomed me the way they always had.
    Still breathless with shock, I said, “Angelo, the last time you saw me I was eight years old. How on earth did you recognize me?”
    He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “What other woman would wear a pink carnation in her hair and order cappuccino and a
cornetto
at lunchtime?” He grinned and handed me the familiar pastry in its square of wax paper. “Besides,” he added, “you are as beautiful now as you were then, when you werejust a lonely
piccolina,
haunting this piazza, looking after your father, and running wild in the streets of Trastevere.”
    “But I never felt lonely; you were my friends, the whole neighborhood. . . .” I didn’t want to believe my memories were not as good as I remembered.
    “È allora,
the neighborhood has changed. Maybe it’s for the better; at least that’s what my sons tell me, but myself, I’m not so sure. The people who used to live here were like family to me; I miss them. Now I have tourists for customers. I make more money, but . . . ,” he sighed and shrugged regretfully again, “I miss the old ways.”
    I dusted chocolate powder from my lips then licked my finger. “That’s exactly what we were, Angelo. Just one big extended happy family.”
    He looked warningly at me.
“Cara,
please don’t go searching for what no longer exists. Remember, we must keep up with the changes. And now, Lamour, tell me about you. Are you married? Children?”
    He smiled hopefully at me but I glanced away. “I was married,” I said. “He died.” My tight lips told my unhappy story more than any words and Angelo’s eyes narrowed with pity.
    “Poor girl.” He patted my hand gently. “I’m so sorry.”
    “It’s okay.” It was an awkward moment and I stared into my coffee cup, silent again.
    Then Angelo said, “Did you know I married Adriana? You remember the flower seller? She will be pleased to hear about you again. These are our sons.” He waved his arm at the two busy young men. “They are good fellows, and soon we hope to have grandchildren.” He turned and looked deep into my eyes. “Perhaps it would have been easier,
carina,
if you’d had children. Life goes on through them.”
    I shook my head and the pink carnation fell, forgotten, to the floor. “Better I didn’t.”
    Angelo’s shrewd eyes took in my haunted expression and I knew he saw my unhappiness. “So, little one,” he said, changing the subject, “your father the
dottore,
turned out to be a great man after all, though we all worried about the way he neglected you.”
    I had to smile at the way he used
dottore
to describe Jon-Boy.
Doctor
was a title Italians bestow on all men of letters.
    “Neglect had its advantages,” I said. “I was the free-est child in Rome. Free to go where I wanted, do what I wanted . . .”
    “And always alone,” Angelo said. He didn’t add “just the way you are now,” but I knew that’s what he was thinking.
    “I’m visiting Rome with a friend,” I said defensively. “We just arrived. She was tired, but I’ll bring her with me next time.
    The bar was getting crowded and Angelo needed to get back to work. Life goes on, I thought, as I gathered up my bag, smoothed