Bianchi signaled for them all to sit. He took his own seat and accepted a Strega from a silver tray held by Pietro.

Stone was glad of his own choice of the drink, and even more glad that Dino had kept him from taking his host’s usual chair. Bianchi exuded a royal presence, and Stone felt very much on his best behavior.

“I hope you had a pleasant drive here,” Bianchi said.

“Yes, indeed,” Stone said. “I was not aware of this part of Brooklyn.”

“My family has slowly developed this part of Brooklyn over many years,” he replied. “My father wished to have a pleasant neighborhood in which to build a house. Unfortunately, he died before he was able to do so. It was left to me to build this place on land he had reserved.”

“The house is very beautiful,” Stone said. “You are to be complimented.”

“Thank you,” Bianchi replied with a small nod. “It is good to have a guest who appreciates it.”

Stone felt confused. Could this man be the ogre of a father-in-law that Dino had for years disparaged at every opportunity?

Dino returned silently to the room and sat down.

“My daughter’s husband has never been susceptible to its charms,” Bianchi said, with regret in his voice. “Dino prefers…Manhattan.” He spoke the word as if the island were a prison colony off the coast of Long Island.

Dino, uncharacteristically, said nothing.

Stone and Bianchi chatted amiably for half an hour, while the others merely listened. Finally, Pietro appeared at the door and gave a little bow.

“Ah, yes,” Bianchi said, rising. “Dinner is served. I believe we are in the small dining room, Pietro?”

“Yes, sir,” Pietro replied.

Bianchi led the way to a lovely little room and placed his guests at an antique round table set with Italian silver, English china, and French crystal.

Stone found himself seated next to the lovely Dolce, who had not said a word since her father had appeared.

Now she spoke. “I believe that you are in the practice of law, Mr. Barrington.”

“I am,” Stone replied.

“Do you specialize?”

“I specialize in what my clients require,” Stone said.

“Oh, good,” she breathed. “Lawyers too often forget that they are servants of their clients and not the other way around.”

“I admit I have known such lawyers,” Stone said.

“So have I,” Dolce replied.

Stone, who had been only vaguely aware that Mary Ann had a sister, would have agreed with anything this creature had said.

Bianchi spoke up. “My younger daughter would not be so familiar with lawyers if she had more often heeded her father’s advice.”

“Yes, Papa,” Dolce said meekly.

Stone felt that she was rarely meek. A risotto of porcini mushrooms was set before him. Careful to choose the correct fork, he tasted it and was transported to a country he had never visited.