Pizzo Camino, so long as he was lucky enough to find love and a job to sustain his family.
Ciro was sure of one thing; he would only stay in America until the scandal blew over, not one day more. He vowed that he and Eduardo would return to Vilminore together, someday, to live on the mountain where they were born. Nothing would separate them, not even the Holy Roman Church. The Lazzari boys were blood brothers, and as their mother left them on that winter day, together, so they would remain, even when an ocean separated them.
Chapter 7
A STRAW HAT
Un Capello di Paglia
The nuns kept Ciro out of sight for two days as they plotted to save him from the work camp in Parma. As the sun set behind the mountain, Sister Domenica, Sister Ercolina, and Sister Teresa carried trays across the piazza from the convent to the rectory.
Sister Ercolina shivered as they approached the rectory. “What did you make?” Sister Ercolina asked Sister Teresa.
“Veal,” said Sister Teresa.
“It’s his favorite meal,” Sister Domenica said softly.
“Of course it is. It’s the most expensive meat.” Sister Ercolina sighed.
“I know. I bribed the butcher,” Sister Teresa said.
Sister Domenica unlocked the door to the rectory kitchen. Sister Teresa lit the oil lamps, while Sister Ercolina placed a tray on a butcher-block worktable in the center of the room. The marble floor was pristine, the walls painted bright white. Fine copper pots, a deep stove, and a double enamel sink filled the wall under the windows. The rectory kitchen had the scent of fresh paint. Only rarely was food cooked here; the nuns bussed every meal over from the convent.
Sister Teresa placed Don Gregorio’s dinner on the counter. She gathered the china, silver, and cloth napkins from the open shelves and pushed through the swinging doors into the dining room. Sister Domenica followed her, lighting candles in silver holders. The formal dining room was splendid, its walls adorned with a wallpaper of pale green stripes, staggered with oil paintings in gold-leaf frames.
The mahogany dining room table, which seated twenty, was polished to a mirror shine. The nuns had embroidered the seats of the chairs by hand in a pattern of lilies of the valley, surrounded by ivy vines, on a field of navy blue.
The nuns worked silently and swiftly, setting a place for Don Gregorio.
Sister Ercolina entered the dining room, checking her watch. “May I call Don Gregorio to supper?”
“Yes, Sister.” Sister Domenica folded her arms into her habit sleeves, took her place by the sideboard, and looked straight ahead.
Sister Teresa entered the dining room with Don Gregorio’s meal, warm under its silver dome. She positioned it on the starched linen place mat and took her place next to Sister Domenica.
Sister Ercolina entered the dining room and stood on the opposite wall, facing Teresa and Domenica.
Don Gregorio entered. “Let us pray,” he said without looking at the nuns. He made a sweeping sign of the cross, his hands cutting a swath through the air as he said,
Benedice, Domine,
nos et haec tua dona
quae de tua largitate sumus sumpturi
per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.
The nuns made the sign of the cross with him, and Don Gregorio took his seat as Sister Teresa moved forward to serve him. She lifted the silver dome off the plate, and Sister Domenica took it from her. They returned to their stations by the server.
“What a beautiful cut of veal,” Don Gregorio said.
“Thank you, Don Gregorio,” Sister Teresa said.
“Why am I deserving of such an opulent meal in the midst of Lent?”
“Don Gregorio, you must keep your strength up during Easter week.”
“Have you set the schedule for the house blessings, Sister Ercolina?”
“Yes, Father. We have the LaPenna and Baratta boys accompanying you. We thought you should begin in Vilminore Alta this year and work your way down the mountain. Ignazio will drive you in the carriage. We have the silver polished, and the urns ready for your blessing of the holy water.”
“Have the palms arrived?”
“They were shipped from Greece, and we expect them any day now,” Sister assured him.
“And the linens for Good Friday?”
“They are pressed and stored in the sacristy.”
“And my vestments?”
“Hanging in the chifforobe in the sacristy.” Sister Ercolina cleared her throat. “Are you expecting any visitors during Holy Week, Father?”
“I’ve sent a letter to the priest in Azzone to concelebrate Easter mass with me. I understand the choir has been practicing.”
“Yes, they sound wonderful.” Sister Ercolina motioned to Sister Teresa to refill Don Gregorio’s wineglass.