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“Hello, sir. You’re not from around here.” She spoke in perfect English.
“No, I’m not. I’m just visiting for a while.”
“I live here,” she said with that small, but melodious voice. “Is your doggy bad? He looks scary.” He did look like Hades’ Cerberus, minus the two extra heads.
“Don’t worry, young lady. Maximus is a sweetheart.”
“Will he bite me if I come closer?”
“No. You can pet him if you want.”
She gathered her courage and started coming closer with small steps, but a very determined face. This kid was on a mission.
Max got up on all fours and stretched his neck to smell her basket. That made the little girl freeze in her tracks.
“It’s ok, he won’t hurt you. He’s just curious.” She didn’t look convinced so I snapped my fingers to get the dog’s attention. “Max, sit.” He came next to my leg and sat down obediently.
“Max? That’s his name?”
“It is.”
She finally got close enough and took another deep breath before touching Maximus on his big head. The dog didn’t pay her any attention.
“He isn’t so scary anymore.”
“Told ya. How can I help you?”
She picked up the basket and put it on the table.
“I’m raising money so my mama can pay for my ballet classes. So I’m selling baked goods. Mama has a bakery. Are you interested in something sweet?”
Her mama had a bakery? Was that the single mom miss Aida talked about? If so, I could go for more of her biscotti.
“Interesting. You want to take ballet, huh?”
“Yes. I want to spin around and go to recitals.”
“You know, I’ve met a few ballerinas.”
I would rather not disclose the circumstances in which that happened.
“Really?” The girl squeezed her little hands in fists and put them under her chin, her face lighting up with excitement.
“Yes, but none of them were as pretty as you.” She was a pretty child. If she took after her mother, I might find myself going to that bakery more often than I planned.
She smiled and I took out a hundred-euro bill from my wallet and handed it to her.
“Umm, sir, I don’t know money very well, but that’s a lot. You’re supposed to give me coins.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. It’s fifty cents a treat.” She pointed to the little sticker on her basket. “You don’t know money either?”
Jesus, she was adorable. I couldn’t help but smile. Her deep brown eyes had something comforting – something familiar – in them.
“I do know money.” Better than most people. “But you are the cutest little baker I’ve ever seen. Keep the money and tell me what you got in the basket.”
“Well, would you like a cookie? It has white chocolate in it?”
