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Summer turned to fall, and a new law presented Franco with the opportunity he’d been waiting for. Noblemen were now permitted to sell parcels of theirlatifondi, and anyone could buy land, even commoners. This morning, he had news he couldn’t wait to tell Roberto, who would be home any minute from a harbor trip.
Sunlight filled Franco’s kitchen, and he set out slices of cantaloupe, blood orange, grapefruit, and lemon-and-almond cakes decorated with tiny marzipan lemons. He heard Roberto returning outside and lifted the coffee pot from the brazier. He had timed breakfast as well as his mother would have, and she would have been proud he was making his dreams come true.
“Good morning.” Roberto entered with a surprised grin, taking off his cap. “You greet me with breakfast? What do you want?”
Franco smiled. “I have news.”
“What is it?” Roberto washed up in the basin, then dried off. “Am I to have a sister-in-law?”
“Sit, eat, then I’ll tell you. How did it go?” Franco poured his brother a cup of coffee, then one for himself, sitting down.
“Perfectly! Not a single lemon lost. The brigands don’t test us anymore. They know.” Roberto crossed to the table, pulled out a chair, andsat down. “Sixty-two trips, so far. The pot is mine—rather, ours. These new men are solid, very solid.”
“Good, good. So that brings you to how many men? Fifty?”
“No, forty-nine. One went away.”
“Where?”
“Prison, you idiot.” Roberto smiled, cutting a piece of cake. “Ours is the only business where you don’t hire a good man, you hire abadone.”
Franco smiled, sipping his coffee, which tasted hot and delicious.
“And I have to be the worst. Here’s my trick. We practice shooting every day, and I give them pointers. They see how well I shoot.” Roberto wolfed down his cake. “Anyway, this woman of yours, will she say yes?”
“Of course.”
“Youarethe second most handsome man in Sicily.”
“You need a new joke.”
“I need a new brother, then my jokes will be new. Hold on, look.” Roberto pulled something from his pocket and tossed it onto the table with a metallicclang. It was a thick brass belt buckle embossed with anF. “I had it custom-made to wear with a bandolier belt.”
“I hope you didn’t pay much. It’s ugly.”
“It’s beautiful.” Roberto cut another piece of cake. “Now, here’s the question. Whatisthis object, really?”
“It’s a belt buckle with anFfor fool.”
Roberto smirked. “Show some respect for my genius. The belt buckle isn’t for me, it’s for my men.”
“Are their pants falling down?”
Roberto chewed his cake. “Trust me, every man will want this belt buckle.”
“You’re going to sell it to them?”
“No, I’m going togiveit to them.”
“Why, if it’s expensive?”
“You know lemons, I know people.” Roberto pointed to his temple. “That’s why I’m excellent at cards. Lovemaking, too, but that’s another subject. Men like to belong to something. I want my men to feel close to me, to our family. Hence theFfor Fiorvanti.”
“Like a brand on an animal?”
Roberto lifted an eyebrow. “That’sdark, brother.”
“Like a uniform, then?”
