Julia wakes in her parents’ bed, alone. The sun is high and she wonders if it is a school holiday. When she cannot find Sofia or Saul in the apartment, Julia walks upstairs and knocks on the door to Nonna’s. She is not afraid.

—

At Antonia and Paolo’s insistence, Lina squeezes herself into a cab with them, Robbie, and baby Enzo, and together they ride to the Colicchio brownstone in Carroll Gardens.

Rosa is there, sitting on the couch, mending socks. Rosa can of course afford to just buy new socks, but she is nervous and unhappy today. It is not totally out of character for Sofia to leave without telling anyone and forget Julia entirely—Rosa, after all, is right upstairs. But there was something so solemn in Julia’s eyes this morning. And Saul has not come home. Rosa has not asked Joey for answers, but she knows what’s going on. And she has fed her granddaughter, mended seven socks, baked bread from her mother’s recipe, scrubbed the tile in the bathroom until it shines. Now Rosa looks up to see her family in her living room: Antonia, holding her baby; Robbie, who runs off to find Julia; Paolo, his eyes darting from Antonia to Rosa to Lina. And Lina. Standing in a cloud of fragrance: orange rind and deep must.

“Sorry for barging in.” It is Antonia. Her face is calm. She is a good mother, Rosa thinks. Little Antonia. “But something is wrong. Sofia and Saul are—well, we have to find them.” In her mind’s eye, she puts a hand to the wall that separates her bedroom from Sofia’s. I’m coming, she tells her. Antonia sets her jaw. She shifts Enzo from one shoulder to another. And then quiet Antonia raises her voice. “Uncle Joey!” Lina and Rosa and Paolo all drop their jaws in shock. There is no answer from the study. Antonia stomps her foot. She opens her mouth. She bellows: “UNCLE JOEY!”

Joey comes stumbling out from his study, straightening his shirt, blinking like a rat thrust into sunlight. “Is someone shouting?” he asks. And then he sees Antonia.

“Uncle Joey,” she asks him, quietly now, “where is Saul?”

Joey sighs. He looks at his family assembled in the living room—Rosa and Antonia and Paolo and Lina (Lina? When was the last time he saw her?). He can hear the sounds of Robbie and Julia and Frankie in Frankie’s bedroom. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry about Saul.”

Antonia has not taken her eyes off of him, has not relaxed her hands enough to let the blood return to her knuckles. Enzo sleeps against her shoulder. “Where is he?” she asks. And she asks like a command. She expects to be told.