Her father had jokingly called the fridge the family idol. It was secondhand, bought from a departing American family through an ad in the Daily American, and it coincided with the firing of Giovanna in one of her mother’s attempts at economizing. She had persuaded Alberto that they should replace Giovanna with a dishwasher and a big enough refrigerator so there didn’t have to be daily food shopping and cooking. Tina had gotten the news at college: “Not that the new idol will do the dusting or prepare the vegetables or iron my shirts as Giovanna did,” her father wrote, “but it’s huge enough, at least, to contain for the moment all your mother’s illusions.”

The kitchen made a naive attempt at eat-in space for American-type breakfasts. Boxes of expensive imported cereals and some Campbell’s soups stood on the shelf of the cupboard, below which was the washboard that Giovanna (rehired) used in the primitive sink. The Morosinis ended up with an incomplete American kitchen and a part-time maid. The worst of both worlds, Tina used to reflect.

“What are you doing this summer, Tee, going to the Marche?” Missy asked as they sat in the fading light drinking beer on the terrace.

“Don’t know. Weezy’s going to take off right after the service for Mom. I thought I should stick around with papà. None of us want to go to the Marche after what happened to Mom. I don’t know. How about you?”

“I’m hitching to Yugoslavia and maybe Greece with this guy I met.”

“What about Lou?”

“What about him? He’s in the States, with a summer job.”

“Well, I mean what about him in the sense that you’ve been with him so long and now you can just go off with someone else all summer?”

“Gee, Tina, that has nothing to do with my feelings for Lou. And I don’t expect he’s just going to be sitting there alone all summer waiting for me. We know we’ll be together when I get back. It’s always been that way with us.”

“I wish I could be that way. . . .”

“Try, sweetie!” Missy laughed as she got up to go. “Let me know if I can help with anything.”

Tina looked at her appraisingly. “Missy, there may be something.” Could Missy help? No, it was absurd to think so. Like asking a butterfly to stand watch.

“What’s up, Tee?”

“I’m not sure yet—I’ll let you know.”