She groaned. “I figured.”

“You know Michael Sanford’s available.”

“The one with six kids? He got a divorce?”

“No, his wife died of cancer last year. He’s a good man, Michael. Good dad. Not a bad-looking man either.”

“Six kids?” She raised her hands. “Piano, piano.”

“Piano?”

“It means slowly, Mom.”

Doris looked at Eliana thoughtfully and it made Eliana uncomfortable. Her mother could always read her, in the same way she always knew what the weather was going to do better than the weatherman, something Eliana never understood as a child and still didn’t.

“You miss him, don’t you?”

“For the rest of my life.”

She sighed. “Oh, Ellen. I miss your father too. I sometimes find myself baking something I don’t even like, just because he liked it. It’s the only promise of love, I suppose.”

“What promise? Torment?”

She smiled sympathetically. “Maybe.”

“I sometimes wonder if it was worth it. I know, it’s better to have loved and lost and all that . . . but that kind of thinking doesn’t help much on cold nights. Sometimes I just ache. Why did I have to fall so hard?”

Her mother smiled. “I don’t know, sweetie. But life has taught me to never regret having loved somebody. To lose love is a misfortune. But not to have loved, that is tragedy.”

“Now you’re sounding like an Italian.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She hugged her daughter. “It’s so good having you back home, Ellen.”

“It’s good to be back.” She sighed. “Well, I better get going. Let’s go over everything.” Eliana took a folded sheet from her pocket and handed it to her mother. “I’ve written everything down here. Alessio needs to be to school by eight-thirty. He’s at Meadow Moore.”

Doris nodded. “I know where that is.”

“His clothes are in his bag. His inhalers are in his bag. And there’s also a spare one in his backpack. You have my cell phone number and here’s the gallery’s number in Park City. It’s the Linton Gallery. It’s long distance from here so you’ll have to dial a one. And, if there’s an emergency—”

Her mother stopped her. “I’ve practiced using the inhalers. And the hospital is only two blocks away. I’ve already talked to Sylvia over in emergency; everything’s fine. Her son has asthma too. So do Marge’s son and grandson, next door. They’ve all agreed to help. We could practically open an asthma clinic in this neighborhood. Now, just go on and have a good time. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

“All right, Mom.” She called out, “Alessio!”

Alessio ran into the room.

Eliana stooped down and kissed him. “I’m going now. Now, you be a good boy and do what Grandma says. I’ll call you tonight.”

“When will you be home?”

“Tomorrow night.”

Doris put her arm around Alessio. “We’ll be okay, Eliana. Alessio just needs to spend more time with his nonna. Now, what do you say to making some sugar cookies? I have some Halloween shapes, like bats and ghosts.”