Page 39 of Storm and Sea

Atreus barked a laugh before he could stop himself.

Breakfast was eggs, bacon, sausage, and a mouth-watering Fette Biscottate.

Atreus usually skipped breakfast—oversalted canned clams weren’t exactly an appetizing way to start the day—but he couldn’t stop his mouth from watering at the sight of the meats covering almost every inch of the table.

Atreus restrained the urge to pile a mountain of food on his plate and only took a small portion. He directed Nyel to the Fette Biscottate, sliced bread with a sweet glaze.

“Antonio,” Horace greeted from his designated spot in front of the window, “Good to see you again.”

Horace, Marina’s Nonno on her mother’s side, was among the remaining men who served in World War II. Atreus hadn’t been alive then, but the stories never failed to send shivers down his spine.

Horace was white-haired, with a bristly mustache and lined skin. He barely hobbled with his cane from one chair to the next. Still, his gap-toothed smile never failed to brighten the day of anyone who slowed down long enough to talk.

“It’s good to see you too. And it’s Atreus, Signore Finotto.”

“That’s right,” he said, but Atreus knew he’d be reminding him all summer. “Maybe now that you’ve arrived, this questo bestione will stop moping around.”

Giovanni huffed indignantly. “I do not mope.”

“You’ve been rattling my rigging all winter with your sulking.”

“Call it sindrome del nido vuoto. But now my empty nest is full,” Giovanni said, extending his arms to the crowded breakfast table.

“Grazie a dio for that,” Horace said, toasting his orange juice like champagne.

A black-coated and white-mittened feline leaped to Horace’s lap, sniffing for scraps.

“Niccolo down!” Marina ordered, but for all the mind the cat paid to her, she may as well have been a fixture on the wall.

Atreus caught the way Nyel flinched at the creature’s sudden appearance. “That’s his cat,” he explained. “A family pet.”

“Uh-huh,” Nyel said and continued to watch the creature as though it might target his lap next.

“He is always by my side.” Horace wheezed through a cough. “Though he enjoys his nightly prowls.”

“And you keep leaving your window open at night and letting the chill in,” Marina scolded. “Then you wake up with a chest cold.”

“But he cries so terribly when he’s locked out, don’t you micino?”

Niccolo purred, his milk mustache curved as though he were smiling. Atreus bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the way Nyel, not so casually, moved his chair further away from the rumbling creature.

“Gabriella, would you be a darling and bring your old grandfather his pipe?”

“Not at the table, Nonno. I’ll bring it to you outside,” she said as she set a plate of eggs in front of him, kissing his cheek. “And it’s Marina.”

“You look so much like your mother,” Horace said, another phrase Atreus was used to hearing.

“I know, Nonno.” Marina smiled fondly.

“Thank goodness,” Giovanni commented from the stove, “I would have feared for her had she looked like me.”

“Oh, Papà, you’re as handsome as ever,” she said, patting her father’s shoulder.

“It is good to have my Bambini back home.”

“Only one more semester of school, Papà, and then I’ll be here forever. You’ll get tired of me.”

“Never,” he chortled. “How I’ve missed your beautiful voice in these early morning hours. It fills my heart with joy.”