Vito settled on the arm of Enza’s chair. She held a glass of champagne, and he picked up his glass. “To us,” he said.
Colin, Laura, and Enza raised their glasses.
“I wish this night would never end.” Enza sighed. Sometimes she was so deeply in the moment of the present, Enza forgot the pain of the past and was free to enjoy herself without guilt. The scaffolding of her new life was sturdy, but she wanted the contents to be light, just like the colors of Dawn Gepfert’s apartment.
“It doesn’t have to,” Laura said.
“I like where this is going.” Colin pulled Laura close.
“Me too.” Vito put his arm around Enza.
“I propped the Milbank’s basement door open with an old shoe.” Laura toasted herself and took a sip of wine. “Now we can stay out as late as we want without having to wait on the front steps in the morning like we’re on a first-name basis with the milkman.”
“I go with the smartest girl on earth.” Colin laughed.
“And don’t forget it.”
This had been a good week for Laura. At long last she had met Colin’s sons, and she found them as rambunctious as the brothers she helped raise. They went to Central Park where Laura proved herself to them. She thew a baseball, ran fast, and played hard, which engaged the boys and impressed Colin. Laura approached her love life just as she did her sewing. She was careful in the pattern stage, so there were no surprises later. But she would have to be flexible if she married Colin and became an instant mother to his boys because that family plan was already well in place.
Enza settled back into the chair, resting her head against Vito. She was overwhelmed with a feeling of contentment, attending their party in the clouds, the glittering city at her feet, with her friends who she had come to rely upon and treasure.
“Did you tell Vito what Signor Caruso said about you?” Laura nudged Enza.
“No,” Enza said softly.
“What did he say?” Vito asked.
“He asked Enza when she was going to design costumes instead of just sewing them.”
“He did?” Vito was impressed.
“He thinks I have a good eye,” Enza said with a shy smile.
“Come up with some sketches,” Vito said.
“She already has two hatboxes full at the Milbank,” Laura said.
“And that’s where they will stay.” Enza sipped her champagne.
“All of a sudden, the tireless Italian girl is shy about her work. I don’t believe it.” Vito shook his head.
“I still have a lot to learn,” Enza said.
They heard applause and cheers from the living room.
“He’s here,” Vito said. Enza, Colin, and Laura followed him out to the living room, carrying their drinks.
The living room of the Gepfert home was filled like a church on a feast day. The revelers faced Enrico Caruso, who stood under a chandelier, taking in their love like sweet cream in his coffee. Vito pulled Enza close in the doorway as Colin and Laura sneaked through the crowd to get closer to him.
“You know how much affection I have for each and every one of you. I want to thank you for all the hard work you did on Lodoletta. Gerry and I are grateful for your dedication.”
Geraldine Farrar held up her glass. “Thank you all for making us look so good. And I would also like to thank the United States Army, who is making fast work of putting the Germans in their place—”
The revelers cheered loudly.
“We look forward to having the heat back on in the opera house. It’ll be a long winter without it. We’re doing our bit and keeping the furnace on low, to send our coal to the front for a good cause. But there’s only so many times I can embrace Enrico Caruso onstage and pretend it’s a love scene. Frankly, I needed his body heat to keep me from frostbite.”
Caruso made his way through the crowd, shaking hands, embracing his dresser, bowing deeply to the hostess in gratitude. As he passed Vito, Vito leaned in and whispered in Caruso’s ear, “Don’t forget your seamstresses.”
“My Vincenza and my Laura,” he said, embracing them both at once. “You have been so kind to me. I will remember your invisible stitches on my hems and your macaroni.”
“It was an honor to work for you, Signore,” Enza said.