“The woman kept me alive when I was staying in New York before,” Sam said, reaching across the table to play delicately with Alva’s hand. “I would have starved to death without her lasagna.”

“It seems to me you have an entire army of women trying to feed you,” Alva said. “I can’t go anywhere with you but you’re having cookies or cake or sandwiches thrust in front of you.”

“I live on the kindness of others,” he said, adopting a woebegone expression.

“Uh-huh,” she said, raising an eyebrow as Mrs. Russo returned with some buttery, crusty bread and a bottle of earthy red wine.

“This is delicious,” Alva said blissfully. “It may be the best bread I’ve ever eaten.”

“It’s the garlic,” Sam said. “I swear I dream about this bread sometimes.”

She smiled at him, and he thought he’d dream about this now, too.

“Tell me more about your family,” she said.

“Surely you’re sick of hearing about them,” he replied, grinning at her.

“I don’t know if I ever could be,” she said. “They’re like … they’re like a fairy tale, to me.”

“Don’t tell them that,” he said, affecting horror. “They’ll be insufferable. All right. You know Benedict’s a doctor? He’s starting this new institute, for government-funded brain research. Not even thirty years old yet, and they picked him out of all the other medical scientists to head it.”

“You’re proud of him,” she said, and he wondered if he’d ever seen her look happier.

“Very, but again, don’t tell him.”

“And your sister? Does she want to be like your mother when she grows up? It’s so uncommon, to hear about a woman scientist.”

“I didn’t really understand that until I left home,” he said. “Growing up it seemed perfectly normal. Experimentation was just … what we did, all of us. It wasn’t until I started traveling on my own that I realized how prejudiced people are. I don’t think Maggie knows what she wants to do yet, though. Right now it vacillates between being a famous chemist and being the head of a famous fashion house.”

“So long as it involves fame,” Alva said.

“It does seem to be an important factor,” Sam admitted, and they both laughed.

Mrs. Russo returned with a full platter of heavenly-smelling dishes, placing them on the table so there was barely an inch left anywhere on the surface. “Enjoy,” she said, and hurried away to scold a nearby waiter.

“I don’t understand what this is,” Alva said, staring down at a plate of spaghetti. “How do I eat it?”

“You twirl it,” he said, picking up his fork and demonstrating.

“It seems very risky,” she said.

“Ah, but what is life without risk?”