New York - The Novel

she strolled over to spend time with Giuseppe and his family. They chatted about family matters, and then the talk turned to Angelo. Salvatore noticed that at the mention of his name, his brother’s two children looked at each other and cried “Uncle Angelo.” Then they laughed. Giuseppe’s wife explained.
    “Angelo’s been helping them with their lessons. He draws pictures for them at the same time.”
    “That’s good,” said Salvatore. “He likes to be occupied.”
    “Actually,” said Giuseppe, “Angelo can be quite useful. I had to write some business letters about the farm, and he did them for me. Better than I could have done.”
    “I hope you’re paying him something for all this work,” said Salvatore. But Giuseppe only shrugged.
    “He’s my own brother. Let him be useful to the family.”
    “He doesn’t ask for anything,” his wife concurred.
    This did not please Salvatore. It seemed to him that the family were taking advantage of Angelo’s good nature a little too easily, but he did not say anything. He couldn’t help thinking, however, that if anything happened to himself and Uncle Luigi, Angelo would only be valued by them to the extent that he was useful. Then it occurred to him that it might be a good idea to test Teresa on this subject, too. On the way back to his parents’ house, therefore, he said: “I worry about Angelo, you know. Before my sister died in the Triangle fire, she told me that I’d always have to look after him. And I think she was right.” He paused. “So whatever I do, even if I have a wife and family some day, my house has to be a place where Angelo can live if he needs to. Does that seem crazy to you?” He watched her carefully as he put this proposition.
    “Of course not.” She gave him a warm smile. “How could I like you if you’d said anything different?” She considered for a moment. “People may not appreciate Angelo, but he is talented, and he is kind.”
    “He approves of you too,” Salvatore assured her. Then he laughed. “He says one day he’d like to marry someone from a family like yours.”
    “He does? What a compliment. We’ll have to find him someone like me, then.” She looked at him playfully. “But this will be difficult. I hope you don’t think that people like my family grow on trees.”
    “I don’t. There is only one of you.”
    “I’m glad you think so.”
    It seemed to him that the conversation was going very well, so he decided to take the subject a little further. “Perhaps,” he went on cautiously, “if I can get the money, I’ll set up some kind of business. Maybe in the city, maybe here, near my family. Only I don’t know what.”
    She did not answer for a moment or two, but when she did, he had the impression that she had already thought about the subject.
    “Don’t do anything you don’t want to, Salvatore,” she said. “I can’t imagine you working indoors. Maybe you could grow things out here, orget into the fishing business, like my brothers. But you must do what makes you happy. This is what I wish for you.”
    She said it so earnestly, and with such kindness, that he almost told her about his good fortune there and then. But he made himself hold back. Instead, he took her in his arms and kissed her. And she kissed him back, before pulling away and laughing. “It’s lucky my parents didn’t see that,” she said. But he could tell she was happy.

    The lawyer summoned him late in February. The inheritance was as promised. That same day, Salvatore deposited just over ten thousand dollars at the Stabile Bank on Mulberry Street and Grand.
    On Sunday, he was due to go out to Long Island and meet Teresa at his parents’ house again, but a cold prevented him. When he telephoned Teresa to tell her he couldn’t come, she asked if Angelo would be disappointed. Certainly, he replied.
    “Do you want me to visit him?” she said. “So he won’t be lonely? I know you worry about him.”
    “You would do that?”
    “For you? Of course.” It was said so sweetly.
    “Go,” he told her. “Next time I come, I shall have some exciting news to tell you.”

    The proposal took place in the living room of his parents’ small house, on the third Sunday in March. The afternoon was rather gray, but there was a fire in the grate, whose soft light seemed to reflect the kindness in her face.
    First he told her that he had ten thousand dollars. Then he told her that he would be happy to live in the city or