Geraldine spoke up about her concerns for Italy. Laura and Enza looked at one another, taking in the dinner conversation. Laura got the giggles when she realized that they had just made gnocchi in a kitchenette for the biggest musical star in the world, and last winter, they had been running through the streets of Hoboken in boiled wool, wearing bad hats. Enza shushed her, so she could continue to eavesdrop.
Caruso waved a dumpling of gnocchi on the end of his fork.
“My good friend Otto Kahn cannot sit in a viewing box because he’s a Jew. And yet he paid for everything you see, including the box, the draperies, the set, the costumes, and the singers. Without him, no grand opera.”
“Why does he give the money to the Met when he’s treated that way?” Vito asked.
“Love.” Caruso smiled. “He loves art like I love life.”
“You mean he loves art like you love women,” Antonio said.
“Women are life, Antonio.” Caruso laughed.
“Mr. Kahn said that a piano in every apartment would do more to prevent crime than a policeman on every corner,” Vito said.
“And he’s the man to buy those pianos. Believe me. I’d like to be Mrs. Kahn, but he already has a wife. A beauty named Addie. As usual, I’m a day late and an aria short.” Geraldine toasted herself with her wine.
“Poor Gerry,” Enrico said, not meaning it.
Enza and Laura prepared a dish of gnocchi to share. They sat at the kitchen table. Laura reached for a dumpling and tasted it. “This is divine!” Laura whispered.
The girls ate their meal slowly, savoring every bite.
“Well, hello. I didn’t realize you were the Italian girl making dinner for Caruso when he invited me.” Vito stood in the doorway. He placed his arms casually over the saloon doors of the kitchen. “That was the best meal I ever had.”
“She may leave the sewing needle behind and take up the spatula,” Laura said.
“Never,” said Enza.
“Whatever man is lucky enough to marry you will eat well for a lifetime.”
“And any man that marries me . . . will have a clean sink,” Laura said.
“What are you doing after dinner?” Vito asked.
“I’m busy,” Laura joked.
“Are you busy too, Enza?” Vito wanted to know.
Enza smiled but did not answer him. Maybe Laura was right. Vito Blazek showed up wherever Enza happened to be, whether it was backstage, in the workroom, or up in the mezzanine. Enza had never been so ardently pursued, and she liked it. Vito was polished, beautifully groomed, and handsome, but even more alluring to Enza, he was persistent. This quality she understood and appreciated.
Laura nudged Enza. “Answer the man. He just asked you out for a date.”
“I’m not busy later, Mr. Blazek.”
“Wonderful.” He smiled.
As Enza and Laura straightened the kitchen, the scent of cigarette smoke and freshly brewed espresso wafted through the suite. Enza was thinking about Anna Buffa’s kitchen, and how the meals she prepared there had never been appreciated, only criticized. Enza realized that a grateful person was a happy one.
Signor Caruso asked Enza to prepare him a dish of macaroni on many more occasions, and the girls found themselves making spaghetti in unlikely places—the cafeteria of the Met, or on a hot plate in Caruso’s dressing room. Many nights, Enza prepared a dish for Signore to carry with him back to the hotel after rehearsal. The great stars, out of touch with people except for those moments when they were onstage, reaching out to the audience in their velvet seats, longed for home when they couldn’t have it. Caruso was always thinking of Italy’s warm sun and soft golden Caravaggio moons, and he was just a little closer to them when the seamstress made macaroni.
Once she agreed to date him, Vito Blazek pursued Enza relentlessly, as if she were a good story that would make hot copy. He gave her the best of Manhattan, as though it was a crystal flute overflowing with champagne, never in need of a refill. He had tickets to opening nights on Broadway, invitations to posh parties in penthouses, and box seats for concerts at Carnegie Hall. They spent long hours at the Automat, talking into the night about art. He gave her books to read, and took her to the Bronx Zoo and for long walks down Fifth Avenue. Enza was being properly courted, and she enjoyed every second of it.
Vito handed Enza a box of popcorn as he took his seat on the aisle next to her at the Fountain Theatre on