With that I tucked my phone in my pocket, threw on my coat, hat and gloves, and headed for my dinner with the family.

Chapter 19

Dinner was splendid. Luigi’s had been one of Michael’s and my favorite spots since we’d begun dating, and it was nice the boys were finally old enough that we could take them out for a restaurant meal. At least we could at Luigi’s. It was noisy enough to drown out any racket the kids produced. Most of the waitresses were matronly Italian ladies, Luigi’s sisters and cousins, who all had a soft spot for handsome bambini. And since the decor was designed to survive the nightly onslaught of dozens of starving college students, whatever damage the kids did would disappear when they swabbed the place down after closing.

The place seemed much more crowded than usual, partly because several tables had been sacrificed to allow space for Christmas decorations and the rest moved even closer together. In the back left corner, Luigi’s Christmas tree was, as usual, decorated entirely in green, white, and red, the Italian national colors. In fact, the angel gracing the top was waving a tiny Italian flag. The back right corner contained an eight-foot-tall ceppo—a traditional Italian Christmas decoration consisting of a pyramid-shaped set of shelves trimmed with candles and evergreen, with presents, candies, and a small Nativity scene gracing the shelves.

I was a little alarmed to see a pair of white ducks in an evergreen-trimmed cage by the kitchen door. Was this part of some new expansion of the menu—an advertisement for duck marinara, perhaps? I pulled out my phone and figured out that the Italian word for duck was “anitra,” so I could scour the menu for it.

But Paolo, our waiter, reassured me.

“Oh, no, they are just pets,” he said. “Luigi’s grandson, little Tonino, was heartbroken when they took all the ducks out of the church, so we asked Randall if he thought his cousin would sell us a pair. These are going home with Luigi tonight.”

“A pair,” Michael asked. “Are you planning on raising ducks?”

“No!” Paolo muttered something in Italian while shaking his head. “They are both supposed to be boy ducks, God willing.”

We managed to pry the boys away from Tonino’s ducks only by promising them a visit soon to Ducky Lucky.

In honor of the season, Luigi’s cousin Guiseppe, the failed opera singer, was occupying the small stage in the main room, singing Christmas carols in Italian, accompanied by Zia Filomena on the badly tuned upright piano. Jamie enjoyed the performance enormously, but Josh found it strangely disturbing to hear familiar carols with strange words, even after I explained that it was just another language.

“He’s not singing the right words, Mommy!” he said loudly during one of the quieter moments of “Astro del Ciel”—better known to Josh as “Silent Night.”