you, but don’t mistake me. I urge you forward not for your own personal ambition, but for something more important. God has given you a magnificent gift in your intellectual abilities, and He did so for a reason. That reason is for you to discover, and pursue.”
Sandro blinked in surprise, having never heard his mother speak that way, and he knew all of her lectures. He had no immediate response, but the conversation was interrupted by the opening of the apartment door, and it was Sandro’s father. Massimo Simone was older than most of the fathers of Sandro’s classmates, and his hair, sparsely black with silvery strands, looked windblown. He was of such a short stature that he had been called Minimo in school, so he had sought refuge in his studies, which had led to his profession as a tax lawyer. Sandro’s father always told the story to show that one could turn disadvantage to advantage.
“Buona sera, sposa e giovanotto.” His father took off his hat, his dark eyes lively behind his bifocals. “Sorry I’m late, but the meeting at the synagogue ran long.” His father came over and kissed his mother. “Guess who’s the new general counsel to the Board?”
“Not you, is it?” his mother asked, with indulgent disapproval.
“Yes, the very same. Perhaps I’ll make something of myself yet.” His father sat down, with a wink.
“But you’re already so busy, Massimo.”
“Perhaps, but this is important, and I’m needed.”
“That’s wonderful, Papa.” Sandro felt happy for his father. The Jewish Community of Rome was governed by a Board of fifteen men called Councilors, who were also responsible for administering its affairs, paying bills, and taking census information. His father had been advising them unofficially on legal matters, spending more and more time at the synagogue, so it was nice to have his role acknowledged, even though Sandro’s mother was probably right about his schedule.
The door opened again, and at last Rosa entered on the arm of a tall redheaded man with bright blue eyes, a nice smile, and freckles. He wore a dark suit of English tailoring, and Rosa seemed in high spirits, in a black dress she saved for fancy occasions. “Mamma, Papa,” she said, “sorry we’re late! Everyone, this is David Jacobs. He just started at the embassy.”
“Welcome to our home, David.” His father rose and shook the young man’s hand.
“Signor Simone, thank you for having me.” David turned to Sandro’s mother with a well-mannered nod. “Dottoressa Simone, thank you, too.”
“Welcome, and please, sit down. May I serve? The meal’s getting cold.” Sandro’s mother shot Rosa a look, but Rosa was oblivious, pulling out a chair for David. Sandro thought he had a kind manner, though his Italian sounded schooled, which could be forgiven. They both took their seats, and Rosa winked at Sandro. He was delighted to see the shine in her eyes, but felt a touch regretful. He hadn’t mustered the courage to give Elisabetta a gift, having lost any momentum he had gained since their kiss at the river.
His father said a prayer over the meal and raised a glass of wine. “Rosa, tonight is a special occasion. Not only do we have a guest at the table, but I’ve been elected to the Board. Let’s toast to Italy’s good fortune, under me and Mussolini.”
Rosa laughed. “Bravo, Papa!”
“That’s a surprise,” David blurted out.
Sandro’s father blinked, and Rosa shot David a warning glance. Silence followed, and they sipped their wine in momentary awkwardness. Sandro’s mother began serving everyone, but David turned to Sandro’s father.
“Signor Simone, my apologies. My comment didn’t sound the way I intended. What I meant was, I’m surprised that you can be Jewish and so ardently Fascist.”
“Thank you for your apology, but it’s unnecessary.” Sandro’s father smiled pleasantly. “As for your confusion, many Jewish families are proud Fascists. As a statistical matter, Jews join the party in the same proportion as Gentiles.”
David pursed his lips. “My surprise is due to the blatant anti-Semitism of Adolf Hitler, in Germany. Doesn’t that concern you, as a Jew?”
“Yes, but National Socialism has nothing to do with us. We’re Italian Fascists, and there’s no anti-Semitism in Italian Fascism. Il Duce was in power for a long time before Hitler even appeared on the scene, not the other way around. Hitler imitates Mussolini, not vice versa.”
“Yet Hitler is Chancellor of Germany.”
Rosa shifted in her chair, and Sandro wondered if she was trying to kick David under the table, like she used to do to him when he was