Mrs. Fabrizio liked to wear tropical wraparound dresses with shoes dyed to match. They were all the same style—a high heel that clicked, and a strap around the ankle. Ambruzzo looked forward to seeing the shoes each week. He was ten years old and loved the way a ten-year-old does: unflinchingly, and with an eye for color. But Nonna didn’t trust her, didn’t like the way her long black hair always hung loose around her shoulders. When Mrs. Fabrizio placed her order, she would lean across the counter, and Nonna always felt she was trying to see inside the change drawer.

On a bright Saturday afternoon Ambruzzo delivered a dozen rolls to Mrs. Fabrizio’s apartment. She thanked him and placed the rolls inside a suitcase laid out on her kitchen table.

It was a two-room apartment. The couch was pulled open into a bed. The sheets were pushed down and Ambruzzo saw there was a stain in the center of the mattress. One of the pillows had been ripped and there were feathers on the floor, piled on a table, strewn across a lamp shade. Mrs. Fabrizio handed Ambruzzo a bag full of her shoes and asked him to walk her to the bus station.

On the way she told Ambruzzo to look behind them, and he would say with his usual curtness that no one’s there, or it’s only some kids, or it’s only Mrs. Rondo or Larry Pulcheck with his dog. She told him he was good and Ambruzzo felt his cheeks warm. He looked down. Mrs. Fabrizio wasn’t wearing any stockings. Her legs were covered with a fine, dark stubble.

As he waited outside the station for Mrs. Fabrizio to buy her ticket, Ambruzzo was approached by a striped suit. The man in the suit tapped the boy on the shoulder, then kept his hand there and squeezed.

“She leaving?” he asked. Ambruzzo shook his head, and the suit laughed loudly, HA, then HA again. Some spit came out of his mouth and Ambruzzo felt it on his forehead. The man reached inside his coat pocket and slipped a coin into Ambruzzo’s hand. It was a Buffalo nickel. “I’m not here.” He walked around the bus parked in front till Ambruzzo couldn’t see him anymore.

Before Mrs. Fabrizio got on the bus, she handed Ambruzzo a pair of shoes and told him to give them to his grandmother. They were a bright canary yellow. Ambruzzo imagined Nonna trying to push her callused toes inside and decided to keep the shoes for himself. He held on to the ankle straps as Mrs. Fabrizio climbed the stairs. He waved good-bye. Then he walked carefully to the end of the bus and peered around the corner.