Seeing the third chair occupied and hearing joyous laughter, mixed with Stefano’s excited chatter about football and cars, instantly lifted her mood.
As the kitchen clock struck nine, Elena darted Stefano a knowing glance. He sighed heavily, cupping his chin in his hands. ‘Please, Mamma. Just five more minutes.’
Suppressing a smile, Elena began clearing the dishes. ‘Five more minutes. That’s all.’
After reading Stefano a bedtime story, Dario found Elena curled up on the sofa, hugging a glass of red, looking at her wedding photographs.
He sat down beside her and poured himself a glass.
Elena closed the album, and placed it carefully on the coffee table. ‘I sometimes wonder if the pain will ever go away.’
‘Give it time.’
‘But I can never be the person I was before.’
‘True.’ Dario nodded. ‘This has changed you forever. But the new you will one day start to slowly, slowly rebuild your life and move forward.’
She wiped away a huge tear with her sleeve. ‘But I don’t want to, not without him.’
‘But he will always be with you.’ Dario put down her wine glass, took her hand and placed it on her heart. ‘In here.’
He then turned away, closed his eyes tightly and swallowed hard. He felt her hand take his and place it over his heart. ‘He is also with you. I’m sorry, Dario. How selfish of me. I’m so busy thinking about myself and Stefano, I forget you are grieving too.’
Dario’s face crumpled. ‘He was like a brother to me. I miss him every day.’
She buried her head in his shoulder.
‘You and Stefano were his life,’ Dario continued. ‘You brought him the happiness he’d been searching for. Let that be some comfort to you.’
Dario looked intently into her watery eyes. ‘I promise you, I will be here for you and Stefano for as long as you both need me. I will help you in every way I can.’
‘Grazie.’ She gulped, taking another tissue from him.
‘But you cannot run the factory as well as the school on your own, Elena. I wish I could help you, but my English…’ he said, giving a thumbs-down and grimacing. ‘Mamma mia!’
‘I know.’ She laughed. ‘Giancarlo told me when you were kids he used to do your English homework in exchange for football cards and stickers.’
‘And cigarettes.’ He pinched his fingers and waggled his wrist, smiling at the memory. ‘I was robbed.’
‘I’ve been thinking,’ she said, ‘it’s for the best if I close the school.’
‘But why?’
‘You said yourself I can’t manage it on my own.’
‘True. So, we must find a solution.’
‘My heart is no longer in it.’ She sighed. ‘Besides, Stefano needs me more than ever now, and as for the factory, without Giancarlo’s leadership, our only chance of survival is if I become much more involved.’
‘Couldn’t you employ a sales manager?’
Elena shook her head. ‘We can’t afford it. Revenue’s already down. In any case, our success has been built on being a family-owned, family-run business. Giancarlo was the face of Mozzarella Moretti, as was his father and grandfather before him. He had a gift for marketing. Our customers, they knew him, they trusted him. Without him…’
‘What about Alfonso? Could he come out of retirement and—?’
‘He’s eighty years old. He has lost his son. No way would I expect it.’
‘But what about you? You love teaching. It’s your passion.’
