our home. Buy yourself a hat.”
“I don’t need a hat. But you need something.”
“I have everything I want,” Ciro assured her.
“You need a wedding band,” Enza told him.
“Enza, I gave you the only ring I ever owned. It means everything to me to see you wear my mother’s ring.”
“And I’ll always wear it because it says that I’m yours. Now you need to wear a ring that says that you’re mine. Tomorrow we go to Leibovitz’s. We’re buying you a wedding ring. The thickest gold band I can find.”
Ciro laughed. “I don’t need a ring to prove that I’m yours. You have me, Enza.”
“I know that. But I want the rest of the world to know it too.”
Enza had done such a good job of decorating the Caterina Shoe Shop windows for Christmas that many women stopped in and asked to buy shoes. They were disappointed when they saw Ciro’s industrial machines, the garish overhead lights, and the stacks of miner’s work boots to be repaired. They realized it was a shop for men, with nothing to offer them, and they would depart as quickly as they had entered after Ciro apologized. Sometimes he would promise the ladies that one day, the window would be filled with fashionable shoes for them that he had designed and made. Then he’d send them up the street to Raatamas. He couldn’t count how many times he threw the department store business.
Enza was in the back of the shop, sewing a satin blanket for Pappina’s baby’s layette, when she overheard a female customer talking with Ciro. She snipped the threads from the blanket, and when she heard the bells signaling that the woman had left, she joined Ciro in the front of the shop.
“Why don’t we sell women’s shoes?”
“Because I don’t make them,” Ciro said as he measured a sheet of leather.
“We don’t have to make them,” Enza said. “We could buy them from a middleman and sell them at a profit, just like any store in town. I could have Laura check with some suppliers in New York. There’s enough room in the front of the shop. We could put in a couple of glass cabinets.” Enza turned and imagined the perfect spot for the display cases.
“I don’t have time to sell shoes,” Ciro reminded her.
“But I do,” Enza said. “We send more customers up the street than we keep. I won’t bother you with any of it. I just need the space in the front of the shop.”
“All right,” Ciro said. “But when I start making women’s shoes, you’ll have to stop selling the ready-mades.”
“You have a deal.”
Enza took the trolley to Hibbing. She entered the Security State Bank of Hibbing on Howard Street in her best hat and gloves and went to the loan department to see Robert Renna.
“Mrs. Lazzari?” Mr. Renna looked up from his paperwork. He wore a suit with a vest and a plain navy tie. A pair of reading glasses was perched on the tip of his long nose. “How is everything working out?”
Enza smiled. The last time she was in the bank, she had cosigned Ciro’s loans for the business and witnessed Luigi’s paperwork. “Both shops are busy,” she said as she took a seat.
“I’m happy to hear it. What can I do for you today?”
“We have a lot of ladies come through the shop. I’d like to sell ready-made shoes. But I need a loan to build the inventory.”
“You have three stores in Chisholm that sell shoes.”
“I know, but they don’t sell the kind of shoes I would stock. I have a connection in New York City to bring real fashion to the ladies of the Iron Range. That is, of course, if you’ll help me go into business.”
“What does your husband think?”
“He has his hands full, so this would be my project.”
Renna was used to widows coming into the bank for loans, but not married women. Usually their husbands handled the banking. Mrs. Lazzari was obviously an uncommon woman. “Let’s take a look at your present loan.” Mr. Renna went to the shelf and removed a ledger containing the pertinent information on all current loans. He opened the leather bound ledger and with a ruler, scanned the handwritten columns. “Here we are.” He turned the page. “Your husband and his partner opened an account with a nice nest egg. You and Mrs. Latini co-signed the loan. They’ve borrowed against it at a reasonable rate. So I think there’s some wiggle room here to help