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.His hair was silver-gray and glinted in the sunlight coming in from the windows overlooking the street.He had a sharp pointed nose and watery ice blue eyes, which were large and kindly-looking.He was very handsome, Sophia realized.He nodded to Sophia and sat down at his usual table.She watched him unfold the paper and hold it up as he sipped the espresso that was waiting for him.She stared at his paper.The puffy, slightly italicized letters of the logo for Corriere Della Sera, the daily paper of Milan, appeared at even more of an angle because of the way he was holding the paper.Her eyes looked up at him, somewhat startled.She had never noticed the Milanese paper.A Piedmontese … and suddenly her eyes took in the whole wall, what she had always assessed as his side of the café.Above him was a painting of Leonardo da Vinci.Somehow it seemed fitting that Gina would choose to sit under Cesare Borgia and this legitimate businessman would sit under da Vinci.Reading his Milanese paper as though he lived there, dressed impeccably in linen, the truly regal silver in his hair, the almost-Swiss blue eyes, which shone and smiled at you, delicate pinkish skin, always clean-shaven—he was the very image of the dashing Piedmontese man Sophia’s mother had had in mind for her to marry and grow old with.She had loved Vincent very deeply—but God, she would give her soul to be sitting across the room with Vittorio.How unfair it was that his sons would wind up hawking tours on late-night television and worrying about their income-tax deductions, while her Michael was going to spend the rest of his life ducking bullets in Solly’s nightmare world.Her eyes focused back on Gina.She watched her devour a cannoli, still talking through the food in her mouth.When had she noticed all these things about Vittorio?She took a drink of water and cupped the cold glass with her hands.She had never consciously thought about him, and the truth was, he was as oblivious to her.She darted a glance up and was taken aback.He was staring at her, lost in thought.For once, she kept his stare.She let go of the glass and felt her hands begin to smooth her black dress.She watched his eyes focus on her, and he watched her hands, smoothing the dress, as if she was polishing her armor.She thought she detected a sigh from him, disappointed, as if the thought Oh well was going through his mind, and then he looked back at his paper.Her eyes focused back into Michael’s bedroom as she realized her hands were smoothing her bathrobe.She had dressed like a Neapolitan widow.The thought did not sit well with her.She got up and slowly walked to her bedroom.She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her closet door.At last, she got up and pulled the string to the light.She searched through the closet of clothes, black tops, black skirts, black sleeveless dresses, and way in the back she found what she was looking for—a dress.Carefully, holding the hanger up, she took it out and looked at it.Delicate nosegays of violets with deep green leaves and tied with blue and pink ribbons decorated a white background.It was made of a silky rayon material, with a small lace collar, a matching belt, and short sleeves.She held the dress up to herself and looked in the full-length mirror attached to the inside of the closet.It was such a pretty dress.It had been her favorite.She placed the dress on the bed and slipped her bathrobe and nightgown off.She pulled the dress over her head.It was baggy.Very, very baggy, she thought, amazed as she buckled the belt around her waist.Almost afraid, she slowly walked back to the closet mirror, keeping her eyes on the floor.Sophia stood in front of the mirror and gave a good long look.Cinderella, she wasn’t.But she was pretty, and comparatively slender since the time she’d bought it.She walked away from the mirror and quickly pulled the dress over her head.She hung it back up, turned off the light, and lay down on the bed.One morning, when Gina was sick or busy with holidays, she was going to put that dress on and she was going to take the train to Café Egidio and she was going to sit under the picture of Leonardo da Vinci and she was going to wait for Vittorio.She was going to sit on the normal side of the room, the place where people utterly unconnected with the Sollys of the world sat, she determined in her head.She lay there, her eyes partially closed.Five A.M.came and fear hit her as she went to church, knowing Michael hadn’t returned.It temporarily went away as she concentrated on the mass.She thought she saw Father D’Amico grimace at her from the altar.The fact was confirmed as she and Gina left the church.Father D’Amico stood at the front door, shaking hands with his parishioners as they walked down the steps.Gina went first and continued on to the waiting car.Father D’Amico shook Sophia’s hand, frowned, and looked her in the eyes.“I hope, Sophia, you are planning to do something good today.Get out, maybe go on a little trip,” he said.She nodded and continued down the steps.She knew what he meant: something away from the church.She climbed into the car next to Gina and they began to drive to the same place they always had pastries and espresso.Yes, she was going to do something good today.She was not going back to the church.Her mind returned to the current moment.She was home.What was the good thing she could do today?She could wait for Michael to come home and tell her that he’d gotten it all straightened out and was going back to school.She walked slowly down the stairs.Yes, that would be very nice.Her heart sank.And very unlikely.Solly wasn’t going to let him off the hook, she knew that.In all the years she’d known of Solly’s doings, he’d never let anyone off the hook.And Sophia knew her son was going to be no exception.Panic began to overcome her as she realized that she’d made a terrible mistake.If Michael asked to be let out of it, she knew what Solly’s reaction would be.He’d have him killed.God knows what Michael had seen over the last two years—that was one of the things that had kept Vincent tangled up in the mess—he knew too much and now she’d insisted on him asking to be let out.Would Michael be that naïve?She stopped, shaking on the last step.Of course he would.She’d raised him that way.What was she going to do?* * *Henry staggered out of the coffee shop.He’d had five cups of coffee and some eggs, which were making him sick.Most solid food made him sick.There was a rusty squeal and he stared across the street at a clothing store as a woman opened up the gates.Well, at least he could get something clean.He was just about to cross when a car caught his eye coming around the corner.He froze for a second, then quickly ducked back inside the coffee shop.The shiny black Jaguar with the vanity plates MORRIS1 roared down the street and past the coffee shop.He stood there for a moment, until it screeched around the corner.He cowered and waited to see whether it was going to come back
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