The Patron Saint of Second Chances by Christine Simon

Author:Christine Simon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2022-04-12T00:00:00+00:00

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Signor Speranza’s nerves had never performed at their level best in the company of the butcher, even under the most benign circumstances, but now, seeing that he was in debt to him to the tune of sixty-eight thousand euros, and living in a web of lies, he found the prospect of being alone with him at the shop, when all decent people were at home enjoying their Sunday lunch, petrifying. What could it be now? Signor Speranza racked his brains. Ernesto had been fine at the shoot on Friday, hadn’t he? He squinted, trying to remember. He had seen him practicing his singing, and eating bresaola, and chatting with the other actors. He had not seen him running anywhere, or colliding with any trees.

“If you will just have a seat.” Signor Speranza directed Signor Maestro to the folding chair next to his desk, and then bustled into the back room, calling over his shoulder, “How do you take your coffee, signore? For myself, I like to put milk and three sugars, but—”

“Black,” Signor Maestro grunted.

Signor Speranza made the coffee, sloshing half of it on the counter, and put it on a tray with a plate of cookies.

“What can I do for you today, signore?” he asked heartily, as he bore the tray to his desk, where he found Signor Maestro sitting in his leather swivel chair and pawing casually through the contents of his drawers.

Signor Speranza’s moustache stood on end. What if now, at this late hour, the butcher were to discover the water report? Signor Speranza could picture it now, folded crisply and tucked under the heavy walnut box that held his gavel.

He put the tray down with a clatter. “Very hot,” he shouted. “Don’t you think, signore? It’s very hot today.” In one movement, he deposited a coffee cup and saucer in front of Signor Maestro with one hand, and, with the other, snapped the desk drawer shut.

“Cookie?” he asked, sliding into the folding chair and waving the plate under Signor Maestro’s nose. Signor Maestro batted the plate away like a bear with a bee. Signor Speranza took a too-large bite of cookie.

“Is this about Ernesto?” he asked thickly, spraying crumbs. “Is he not happy with the role after all?” For the second time that afternoon, his heart skittered. What if Ernesto wanted to quit the production? What if Signor Maestro had come to request a refund? Signor Speranza glanced at the safe and then at the ceiling. If you are trying to kill me, Lord, you are taking the long way.

But Signor Maestro shook his ponderous head. “No.” He picked up his coffee and drained the entire cup in a single go. Then he leaned back in Signor Speranza’s chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “I have come to ask a favor. I need Dante Rinaldi to do a commercial for my butcher’s shop.”

A muscle under Signor Speranza’s left eye twitched.

“A commercial, signore?”

He squirmed and ate another cookie.

Signor Maestro swept his hands, palms out, in front of him.

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