“I think just now.” He laughed. After a moment, he took her face in his hands. “You’re different, Enza.”
“Signora says you see a lot of girls.” She removed his hands from her face and held them.
“She exaggerates. But she would. Signora is worried I’ll take off after my heart’s desire and leave her with a crate of shoe tacks, and a line of angry customers.”
“And will you?”
He didn’t answer. And just as it had on the mountain, the moon shifted, its beam seeming to single out Ciro, like light through a stained-glass window in a dark chapel. It was as if her world had changed in that moment, had tilted on its axis just enough to give Enza the view she had longed for. He leaned down to her. She felt safe in his shadow, and as his lips grazed her cheek, he took in the scent of her skin, which was at once familiar and right.
Enza knew that in that moment a thousand good men could not compare to Ciro Lazzari. He was the one who owned her heart. She had known it since that night on the mountain. But thoughts of Felicitá intruded, and she wondered how she would ever know whether he truly felt the same about her. In this regard, she would not settle. Better to carry the cross of unrequited love than squander herself on someone whose heart was divided. His tender, delicate kiss emboldened her to tell him what she knew.
She took a step back, letting go of his hand. “I won’t come after you again, Ciro. I’ve had enough of chasing the things I want in this world. It’s too difficult. I’ve learned that it’s fine to have expectations, and dreams are wonderful, but once in a while, it would be good to have something come my way without having to fight for it. If you want to be friends, that’s your choice. I have nothing to offer you but understanding. And I won’t chase you down in every borough of this city to convince you that what I have to give has value to you. I think I understand what makes you who you are, what you want out of life, and I know for sure where you come from. These often aren’t the gifts a man is looking for in a woman, but it’s what I’m looking for in a man. And if you would like to be that man, it’s up to you.”
“Where do you live?”
“Three-one-eight Adams Street.”
“May I call on you?”
“Yes, you may.”
“I’ve promised Remo to run the repair cart out to Queens. We have new business there with the road. I may not be able to come to see you for a few weeks. Is that all right?”
Enza smiled. “Of course.” She had waited all her life for him. A few more weeks would just make their next meeting sweeter.
Chapter 15
A YELLOW DIAMOND
Un Brillante Giallo
The Zanetti shoe repair cart served Carla Zanetti’s goal of keeping Ciro under her roof while turning a greater profit for her business. Ciro paraded their wares through the five boroughs, making repairs and selling new boots to the hundreds of workers recruited for the enormous construction projects—to erect bridges, train stations, and buildings.
Remo hitched the repair cart to his carriage, driving Ciro and Luigi to Astoria, Queens, before dawn. The streets of Manhattan were quiet, except for the clinking of the glass bottles on the carts delivering milk.
Ciro had to pay off Paboo, the local padrone, to park the cart on Steinway Plaza, but it was worth the freight. There was a perfect spot on the plaza for the cart, as it was a busy thoroughfare at the foot of the Hell’s Gate Bridge.
Luigi lifted the window flaps on the cart, while Ciro set up the repair table inside. The cart was painted forest green, with “Zanetti Shoe Repair” emblazoned across the side in white letters. Luigi opened the storage drawers under the counter and lifted out dozens of pairs of boots, repaired and tagged with customers’ names.
“Know where I can buy a diamond?” Luigi asked Ciro.
“What for?”
“What do you think, what for? For an engagement ring.”
“You’re gonna get married?”
“I’m older than you.”
“By a year,” Ciro said.
“It’s a long year.”
“Va bene.” Ciro laid his tools out on the repair table. “You go to Mingione’s in the diamond district in the Bowery.”