Within moments they had encountered three brothers—two of whom were married—a married sister and two others. One of the married brothers and his wife lived in the little house just behind. And though Teresa’s married sister and her other married brother had their own places nearby, this house was obviously the center of the family operations.

Everyone was friendly, and the place was buzzing. There were half a dozen children running around. Teresa’s brothers and sisters spoke to Salvatore in Italian, though their children seemed to speak English. “My parents speak a little English,” Teresa said with a smile, “but they usually speak to each other in Tosca.”

She led them through to the kitchen. “This is Salvatore and Angelo,” she said to a strong-faced woman, who gave them a quick, sharp look. “My mother,” Teresa explained. “And this”—she turned toward a tall man with a graying beard who had just entered the room—“is my father.”

Teresa’s father moved with an unhurried dignity. There could be no doubt who was the head of this extensive family. He looked like the pictures of Garibaldi. He greeted the two young men politely, but said nothing more.

Salvatore soon realized that, outside the family, he and Angelo were the only guests. Before the time even came to sit down for the meal, he had discovered that as well as owning some fields, Teresa’s father ran a fruit and vegetable store with one of his sons. His son-in-law was in the local shellfish business, and his two other sons ran a local trucking business.

The table was arranged in a large T, so that the fourteen adults and half-dozen children could all be seated in the biggest room. Teresa was seated in between Salvatore and Angelo. Her brother-in-law, a thickset, rather earnest man of thirty, sat opposite Salvatore. Her father, at the head of the table, was just a few places away where he could keep an eye on them all. At the start of the meal, out of politeness, he addressed a few questions to Salvatore, asking about his family and where they came from.

Salvatore answered that he was Italian and lived in the city, but that the rest of the family were out on Long Island now, and that his elder brother would inherit a farm. Teresa’s father nodded at this, and remarked that he hoped Salvatore and his brother would soon be able to leave the city themselves.

“My father thinks the city is unhealthy,” Teresa explained with a laugh.

Teresa’s father did not trouble him further, and the meal proceeded in a friendly fashion. Teresa was quite lively, and told him funny stories about her relations. As Salvatore looked around, it seemed to him that this was how the Caruso family might also have been, if they had been richer.

Teresa was talking to Angelo during the dessert course when her brother-in-law quietly engaged Salvatore in conversation. He asked him about his work, and hearing that he was a bricklayer, he shook his head.