Wednesday, March 23, 1870
“Why would a woman suddenly keep a journal?” Serafina asked. “Doesn’t make much sense unless …”
“There you go again, swinging in the sky,” Rosa said.
“… Unless Baroness Caterina had a lifelong predilection for keeping a journal. Yes, I believe there might well be other volumes. We must find them. Can you leave tomorrow?”
The madam threw up her hands. “Make up your mind if you still have one!”
While Rosa wrote a note to the baron, Serafina began planning the evening. She’d have to work miracles with her children tonight, salving their wounds, dousing fires, restoring familial harmony. Who said she couldn’t? She’d done it before. For starters, she’d arrange the table seating, placing Totò and Maria on each side of Teo, Tessa across from the three. And afterward, they’d play Charades. Teo ought to be good with guessing and she’d think up some churchy pantomimes so Totò could show off his new altar boy skills. Carmela and Renata must know of her scheme; each of them could help her think up the riddles and head up a group of players. Vicenzu better leave his abacus alone and join in the game; a pity Carlo wouldn’t be home to enjoy the merriment. Perhaps she ought to invite Loffredo. Yes, of course, why hadn’t she thought of that—to even out the teams. She must visit his office again and brightened at the thought.
Photo: Dawn in Sicily. Credit: gnuckx (Flickr), Creative Commons.