“No. There’s a wine show in Vienna this Friday; I need to be there by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Vienna. I wish you had told me sooner. We would have loved to go with you.”

“I’ll just be working the whole time, then off again.”

She continued sorting clothes. “Alessio’s upstairs in his room with Manuela if you want to see him.”

“I won’t disturb them. I’m going to take a nap. Then you can make me lunch.”

She looked at the laundry around her then dropped what was in her hands back on the floor. “All right.” She stood up and stepped from the laundry, picking her way around the little piles like she was navigating a stream. “I wasn’t going grocery shopping until later this afternoon. I can make you a sandwich. I have some prosciutto crudo.”

“Va bene. And some penne with Bolognese sauce.”

“We don’t have any beef. There’s some pesto sauce.”

He frowned. “Okay.”

Eliana went to the kitchen. Maurizio went into the front room, turned on the television and lay down on the couch.

A few minutes later Alessio entered the front room, his hands cupped before him. He stopped near the doorway.

“Ciao, babbo.”

Maurizio turned from the television and smiled. “Ciao, Alessio.”

“I want to show you something.” He opened his hands.

Maurizio strained to see what he held. “Che cosa? A rock?”

Alessio stepped toward his father. “It’s a real volcano rock from a real volcano.”

Maurizio took the porous stone from Alessio’s outstretched hand, looked it over then gave it back to him.

“Where did you get it?”

“Luca gave it to me.”

“Ganzo.” Cool. He turned back to the television.

After a moment Alessio asked, “Do you want to play soccer with me?”

Maurizio looked back over. “Of course. But it is raining outside.”

“The rain stopped.”

“Yes, but everything is still all wet. You do not want to get all wet, do you?”

“I don’t mind.”

“Yes, but your mother will.” Maurizio smiled reassuringly. “We will do it another time when it is not so wet.” Alessio’s countenance fell. Maurizio, sensing his disappointment, said, “When I come back from my next trip I will bring you a new ball.”

“We haven’t even used the last ball you gave me.”

“But we will. I promise. When everything is not so wet.” He patted Alessio on the arm then turned back to the television. After a few more moments Alessio took his rock back upstairs.

Ross was surrounded by a tour group from Boise, Idaho. They had been an amiable crowd, and though he’d never been to Idaho, judging from this group he thought he’d like the people.

Ross preferred leading the groups from the smaller towns. They seemed more filled with awe at what they saw.

“There is a reason for every painting,” Ross said. “Sometimes we can see it within the expression of the art itself; sometimes we find it in historical perspective. There were a lot of things said in art that couldn’t be said aloud. Painted between the lines, so to speak. For instance . . .” He looked over the group. “You’ve already been to see the Sistine Chapel, no?”