“Corrado’s acting very strange. Four days ago, he shuttered the café. He was gone for two nights. He didn’t tell me why, he didn’t even tell me where he had gone. Ever since he returned he’s been . . . I don’t know, pale and uneasy, with his head in the clouds, and he jumps at the slightest noise.”

“What do you think it is?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t like it one bit.”

They looked at the man busy heating an aluminum pitcher full of water. “Corrado had a pretty rough past in Rome. One time he told me that he can’t go back there.”

Barbara’s eyes lit up. “What kind of past?” An inveterate reader of John le Carré and P. D. James, she glimpsed conspiracies and mysteries around every corner.

“Rough stuff, like I told you.” Then she added, in an undertone: “He’s even been in prison . . .”

“So what are you saying?”

“I don’t know. There’s something that’s eating at him.”

“The tea is ready!” shouted Corrado. Barbara squeezed Tatiana’s arm in solidarity and went inside. The Russian woman remained outside to finish her cigarette, staring up at the sky. The sea went on driving its breakers against the beach and the rocks. Soon it would be dark. The bookseller walked past Tatiana with her two teas. “We’ll talk more later,” she whispered as she passed by, and then headed out toward her own shop. The Russian woman discarded her cigarette and went back into the café. Leaning against the espresso machine, Corrado was staring at the crate of fruit juices. “Here, Corrado, why don’t you just go home. I can close up tonight.”

“What?”

“I told you, go home. Get in bed, or lie down on a sofa and watch TV. Get some rest. After all, the day is done.”

Corrado nodded. “Yes . . . yes, all right. I’m going home, then.”

The woman went behind the bar. “Are you sure that you don’t have a fever?”

“Huh?”

“Do you have a fever?”

“No. No, what fever are you talking about?” Corrado replied. “So, can you close up?”

“I already told you that I’d take care of it.”

The man pulled his head down into his shoulders, grabbed his windbreaker off the coatrack, pulled his woolen cap out of his pocket and yanked it down on his head. “All right, see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Tatiana stood there and watched him walk off.