to talk about getting a guide dog.’ Natale dabbed her eyes with a napkin. ‘Whereas Papà … I still see him struggle, really struggle with Mamma’s death.’
‘And you?’ Mary said, gently. Thinking about it, the family hardly ever spoke about the mother.
Natale blew her nose. ‘I am the lucky one – Lucia takes up most of my thoughts. For that I’m grateful.’ She sat more upright. ‘Although there is one thing Dante has given up. Dancing. He used to love going to nightclubs whenever he could. He’s inherited Alfonso’s genes.’
Mary smiled and pictured Alfonso who would occasionally enjoy swaying under the canopy at night, Enzo’s jazz music playing in the background after the last customer had left.
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