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“Signora Renata. The dowager Finestra. Youknowher name.”
“Whatever. Anyway, she looked impressed when you were barking at her earlier, like a puppy yapping at a bulldog.”
“Nowthat’sthe confidence builder I needed.”
“Finestra?” Kamaria stood in the doorway, watching them with a strange look on her face.
Alessa tossed the pillow aside and scrambled to her feet, cursing herself for being caught in such an undignified pose. “Yes? Do you need something?”
“We’re heading downstairs.”
“Wonderful. I’ll be right down.”
Kamaria left and Alessa rolled her shoulders back, feeling like she should be wearing armor.
“È meglio cader dalla finestra che dal tetto,” Dante said softly.
It’s better to fall from the window than from the roof.One of Mama’s favorites.
“Very clever. Are they falling through me or pushing me out of one?”
He stood, sliding a small leather-bound book into his back pocket. “Only one way to find out.”
Eighteen
Chi vive tra lupi, impara ad ululare.
Live with wolves, learn to howl.
DAYS BEFORE DIVORANDO: 28
Alessa had the place of honor at the head of the table, so she couldn’t miss a single miserable glance or flinch as the Fontes took their seats.
To Alessa’s right, Nina bowed her head, whispering a soft prayer.
Alessa picked up her fork and the movement startled Nina, who knocked her water glass into her lap.
Across the table, Saida grimaced. Kaleb groaned.
Nina’s lip trembled as a servant hustled in with a stack of napkins.
Alessa grasped for old memories, anything to talk about. “Kamaria, do you still play guitar?”
Kamaria idly toyed with her fork. “Yeah. Why?”
“Just wondering. Nina, how are you enjoying the temple choir these days? Your solo at last week’s service was lovely.”
Nina mumbled, “You’re kind to say so.”
Josef’s voice was soft and gentle. “I keep telling her she has the voice of an angel, but she doesn’t believe me.”
Alessa tried again. “Saida, how is your project coming along?”
“Going as well as it can, I suppose. I’m focusing on desserts for now.”
Alessa tried to keep the conversation going over a starting course of melone e prosciutto, but the stilted responses she pried from the Fontes made Dante seem like a chatterbox in comparison.
The kitchen staff had prepared a feast worthy of divine saviors, probably thinking the Fontes deserved a generous last meal, but Alessa was the only one who did more than pick at it. Aside from Dante, who sat in a chair by the doors to the kitchen, plowing through his third serving with no sign of slowing.
