AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Actually, we do have one, and I admire your initiative. I recognize a kindred spirit.” Signor D’Oliva smiled, and a curly-haired boy came running up, chased by a fluffy yellow dog.
“Papa, Papa!” the boy squealed, gleeful. “I taught him to sit! I taught him!”
Signor D’Oliva chuckled, ruffling the child’s hair. “Good boy! Now, Cristiano, let Papa speak to this nice man.”
Gaetano mentally crossed off the name. “Signor D’Oliva, I won’t take more of your time. Thank you very much. Goodbye.”
Fifteen minutes later, Gaetano had visited two additional families on the list and had been delighted to eliminate two more boys, Saverio Gangi and Patrizio Santino. He had laid eyes on Saverio, who was leaving to go for a walk with his mother, and Patrizio, resting on the couch with a hot water bottle, fighting off a cold. Gaetano sent up a silent prayer for the boy’s health and hurried to the office.
Gaetano knew there was troublethe moment he got back to work and heard his name being said in Don Matteo’s office. He went to the threshold to find Bartolomeo in a chair opposite Don Matteo at his antique desk. Leather-covered lawbooks on walnut shelves lined the exquisite room, their gilt-embossed titles winking in the sunlight. Red-striped curtains flanked the windows, and between them hung diplomas and an oil portrait of Don Matteo’s late father, who had been a prominent judge in Palermo, like Gaetano’s father.
Gaetano managed a smile. “Don Matteo, good morning. Do you need me?”
“I certainly do. Gaetano, sit down.” Don Matteo gestured to the red-striped chair next to Bartolomeo. He frowned in his black waistcoat with leather trim on the collar. “Please tell me where you have been.”
“I had to see a dentist.”
Bartolomeo looked over, lifting an eyebrow. “I thought you said it was a doctor.”
“That was the other day,” Gaetano answered, then realized Bartolomeo had trapped him.
“What?” Don Matteo flared his hooded eyes. “Gaetano, why so many personal matters when we’re busy here? Couldn’t you have gone at a more opportune time? I’ve been trying to see you to discuss the lending agreement. You’re never at your desk. Bartolomeo is taking up the slack. Doing a fine job of it, too, I might add.”
Bartolomeo nodded. “That’s very kind of you, Don Matteo.”
“Thank you, Bartolomeo.” Gaetano remembered the teaching of Saint Paul.Your every act should be done with love.
Don Matteo shook his head. “Gaetano, I was very dissatisfied with your job on the lending agreement. The provision provided the monies are due every six months, but you filled in the wrong dates, a careless error.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Furthermore, do you know who caught the error? Not I! Perhaps I would have, if you had given me sufficient time to review the agreement, but you didn’t. Baron Tedescohimselffound the mistake! Can you imagine?”
Gaetano cringed. “I’m so sorry. You must have been embarrassed.”
“Mortified!I have a reputation to uphold. Our papers must be perfect. You know how much business we get from Baron Tedesco. He has faith in us, and I don’t want him to feel it’s misplaced. There aremany other lawyers in Palermo, and he can have his pick. And if he speaks ill about us to others, I don’t have to tell you how deleterious to my reputation it would be.”
“I promise you, it won’t happen again.”
“I would hope not.” Don Matteo heaved a sigh. “Gaetano, this is highly uncharacteristic. Your work has always been impeccable. Am I asking too much? I’m far from a taskmaster, aren’t I?”
Gaetano didn’t know how to reply, as it was a compound question. “You’re a pleasure to work for, sir.”
“Good, then see to it!” Don Matteo slid a huge stack of files across the desk. “Now, get started on these agreements right away. They need to be updated by the end of next week, all of them.”
“Thank you.” Gaetano picked up the pile, heavy in his arms.
Bartolomeo interjected, “Don Matteo, I’m happy to help Gaetano.”
“Bartolomeo, no, thank you. That’s cooperative of you, and that’s what I like to see. However, these agreements are largely similar, so the task is more efficiently performed by one lawyer.” Don Matteo met Gaetano’s eye, his gaze stern. “Make it your priority.”
“I will.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The hustle-bustle of Palermo’s harbor made Renzo realize how much action he missed at the madhouse. All manner of ships were sailing in and out of the harbor or anchored a distance away: trawlers, skiffs, clippers, merchant ships, and fleets of fishing boats with the night’s catch. Plumes of smoke billowed from the steamers, fading in the salty gusts off the sea, which was a choppy indigo color with scalloped whitecaps. Fishmongers sold fresh squid, octopus, mussels, and tuna on tables on the docks. Housewives and servants clustered around them, carrying baskets.
Renzo kept going on his mule, heading to one of his favorite bars. He looked forward to seeing his old friends who worked at the harbor, one friend in particular. Palermo would have no shipping trade without men like them, but they earned a pittance for loading ships, greasing engine gears, washing docks, gutting fish, and carting away refuse.
