Ross glanced over at her and she smiled at him. Then he walked up to Alessio. He put his arm around him, looked over his shoulder at Eliana and said in a whisper, “Listen, Alessio, man to man. You’re making me look really bad here in front of your mother. Let me make just one goal, okay?”

Alessio considered his proposition. “All right. But just one.”

“Thanks.” Ross walked back with the ball under his arm. He set it on the ground and squared off in front of it. He eyed Alessio fiercely then gave him an obvious wink as a reminder. Then he kicked the ball right to him. Alessio fell on it, laughing loudly. Ross threw his hands in the air. “That’s it. Enough humiliation for one day. I quit.”

Alessio laughed. “I won!”

Eliana laughed too. “Good, because it’s time for dinner. Come on, Alessio.” She looked at Ross fondly. “Why don’t you join us, loser?”

“So you can rub it in? I think not.”

“Oh, don’t be a sore loser. It’s fried chicken.”

“Per favore, Mr. Story.”

“All right. But I want a rematch.”

The three of them walked into the house, Alessio bouncing the ball on the ground until Eliana finally made him put it up in his room.

Eliana grabbed an extra place setting for Ross; then they sat down together at the dining room table. Alessio snatched a piece of chicken, followed by Ross.

“Mr. Ferrini, what are you forgetting?”

“Prayer?”

“Yes.”

Ross surrendered his piece of chicken. “I forgot too. Sorry.”

She winked at him. “Don’t do it again. Alessio, would you say grace, please?”

He took Ross’s hand, as well as Eliana’s. “Okay.” After the prayer Eliana asked, “Ross, would you like some wine?”

“Please.”

She uncorked a bottle of their house wine and poured him a glass, then one for Alessio and herself as well. “I hope you like our cantina’s wine. It would be seditious to serve anything else.”

“I do. It’s different. What kind of grapes are these?”

“Mostly Sangiovese. This is blended with a little Merlot. It gives it that dark, fruity taste.”

“You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

“I know my wine.”

The three of them ate until the chicken was nearly gone. Eliana offered Ross the last piece of chicken.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it. It’s not something you can get at the local pizzeria.”

“I like cooking American dishes now and then.”

Alessio asked, “Can we play again tomorrow?”

“Mr. Story doesn’t have time to play soccer,” Eliana said.

“Mr. Story does have time,” Ross said. “In fact I demand a rematch.”

“What’s a rematch?”

“Another chance for me to win.”

Alessio smiled. “You can’t win. I’m the bomb.”

“Yes, you are the bomb. I’m going to have to practice.”