Dolci di Love by Sarah-Kate Lynch Page A

Lama, only in black.
    And the truth was that Violetta had always felt she possessed a sixth sense when it came to matters of the heart, and was helped in this regard by Luciana, who possessed five-and-a-half.
    Usually, she knew exactly what to do and who to do it to, but today no bells were ringing, no signs were flashing, her mind was as clear as minestrone. Was Alessandro really their calzino rotto ? And could Lily truly be the woman to soothe his broken heart?
    Where before she felt nothing but certainty, today she felt like the cornetto she’d had for breakfast was lodged in her chest and would never move. That was all.
    â€˜What about Roberto, the bus driver, from Cremona,’ Luciana suggested, stepping helpfully into the breach. ‘Remember we set him up with Angelica from the language school? Bit of a bumpy start as I recall but they’ve got children now, and grandchildren.’
    â€˜Cremona isn’t a foreign country,’ the widow Ercolani pointed out.
    â€˜Put your hand up if you have ever been to Cremona,’ Violetta commanded, retrieving her wits and seizing the opportunity.
    Not a single hand rose.
    â€˜And put your hand up if you have ever been to America.’
    Again, not a single hand rose.
    â€˜Therefore I think we can safely say that America is no more foreign than Cremona.’
    This seemed to satisfy the group at large but Fiorella felt moved to voice her own skepticism. ‘So, let me get this straight, this blonde turista is seen talking to old droopy drawers out in the valley and on those grounds you decide this is the love match?’
    â€˜This blonde turista is seen talking to old droopy drawers on one of Violetta’s special days,’ the widow Benedicti stressed. ‘That’s the key. And by the way, he does not have droopy drawers.’ ThatAlessandro fitted his drawers quite well had already been discussed on a number of occasions.
    â€˜Right. Good system,’ drawled Fiorella, rolling her eyes, something she did with enormous skill.
    On any other occasion Violetta might have shut her up with a vicious stare or got the widow Mazzetti to refer again to the rule book for statutes regarding ethnicity, but the events of the day had unsettled her too badly and still there was that sharp pain in her chest, poking at her from the inside like an evil finger.
    In the past she had found that a sticky issue could sometimes be resolved by pulling a bit of darning-related wisdom out of her pocket, and given the circumstances, she decided to try this again.
    â€˜Might I remind you,’ she told the assembled widows, ‘that our job is not to judge the sock by its colour or even the quality of its wool, but to simply fix the hole, be it in the toe or the heel.’
    Her pronouncement was met with silence at first, then a couple of heads nodded, and a couple more, and eventually the whole room was full of nodding heads.
    And just one pair of rolling eyes.

Chapter 14
    T he early morning light threw a friendly shaft across Lily’s face and for a few sleepy moments she thought she was at home in the Seventy-second Street apartment.
    She opened her eyes, stretched out her arms, and took a few bleary beats to remember she was not lying next to Daniel on the Hästens mattress she’d bought herself, even though it cost the same as a car, for her fortieth birthday. Daniel was missing, the sheets were a shade of apricot she would never let into her building, let alone her home, and the electricity in her arm hair told her they were also polyester.
    She rolled onto her side, looking at the vast expanse of empty bed beside her.
    She rolled onto her back again. Blew out a sigh. Let the despair of her miserable situation fully descend.
    Once it had settled near rock bottom, she realised she’d been there before. Mornings, if she was honest with herself, had been miserable for a long time.
    This was why at home she organised herself a jam-packed