Chapter 20

Chapter 20

December 30th The Amalfi Coast

F rankie was up unusually early. Her excitement for their day trip to Positano and Sorrento had her all atwitter. She had seen photos, videos, and movies, but to see it in person would be spectacular. As she quietly padded her way into the kitchen, she could smell coffee. Someone must have gotten up before her. Giovanni? She checked the clock above the sink. It was only 6:00 a.m. She fixed a cup of cappuccino and decided to sit on the patio and watch the colors of the sea change with the morning light.

She spotted Lucia, who was already on the patio with something on her lap. Frankie approached her and whispered "Buongiorno!"

Lucia was taken aback. She hadn't heard Frankie approaching.

"Oh, buongiorno , Frankie. Come stai ?"

" Molto bene . You are up early," Frankie stated, then noticed Lucia had the shawl Frankie had given her on her lap. She didn't know what to say next. Do you like it? Do you hate it? Should she say nothing? She also noticed a wadded-up tissue in Lucia's clenched hand.

Frankie put her hand on Lucia's shoulder. "Everything alright?" Frankie could see Lucia had been crying.

"Yes. Fine." Lucia sniffled.

Frankie decided this was the moment to dig into Lucia's puzzling moods. "May I join you?"

"Of course." Lucia gestured to a chair.

Frankie decided the only way to approach this was to take it head on, like she did with most things.

"Lucia, I'm sorry to impose, but I couldn't help noticing that you sometimes seem unhappy. Is it because we have invaded your home?" Frankie thought that could be a good possibility. "A hoard of people descending upon your quiet, peaceful life can be disarming."

"No. No." She shook her head, but still didn't reveal her melancholy.

Frankie put her hand on Lucia's. "Can you tell me what you are upset about? Maybe we can fix it?" Frankie spoke softly. Compassionately. Then she decided to ask about the shawl. "Do you not like your gift?" Frankie knew no one would cry over a shawl, but thought it might prompt more conversation.

Lucia sniffled again. "It's bellissimo . I have not received something so beautiful in many years."

Frankie looked into the woman's eyes. She could tell Lucia wanted to bear her soul. Maybe not to Frankie, but to someone. A priest, perhaps? "I know somewhere inside you are hurting. Can you tell me what it is? Do you want me to call a priest?"

Lucia's head jerked up. "A priest?"

Frankie couldn't help but laugh out loud. That suggestion didn't land the way she expected it would. She shrugged.

"What man understands a woman? Nessuno di loro. None of them!" Lucia was becoming animated.

"So, tell me, Lucia. What is causing you so much pain?" Frankie knew she was on a slippery slope, but she thought she might be making some headway.

"Marriage." Lucia appeared to be more engaged in the topic.

"Marriage?" That came out of the blue. Frankie knew there were a lot of words on the tip of Lucia's tongue. Now if she could pry them off.

"When Rosevita told me you were coming here, I wondered who was going to sleep where."

Interesting . Frankie's initial concerns were not far off.

"We want to respect you and the family," Frankie said.

"I know. And I appreciate."

Frankie felt a but coming.

"But who am I to judge?" Lucia said, to Frankie's great surprise. "People should live their life. Too many people are infelice . Unhappy. The church makes rules. Too many rules."

Frankie was invigorated by the direction the conversation was going. "I think people still believe in God, but they don't believe in the rules that men put in place."

" Esattamente ! Exactly!"

Frankie gave her a conspiratorial eye. "Any rules in particular?"

"My husband. He cheat on me many times." Lucia's mood went from sorrow to anger.

Frankie almost fell off her chair. This was not what she was expecting.

"I go talk to the priest and he tells me he is my husband, and I must look the other way."

"Uh boy," Frankie exhaled.

"For years, I put up with this cheat, but we cannot get divorced." Lucia was spilling her guts. "One morning when he left for work, we had a big-a fight. He slapped me, and I said for him to cadere morte —drop dead—and later that day, guess what?" She shrugged and opened her hands. "He did."

Frankie didn't know how to react. She wanted to laugh out loud, but it wasn't funny. Ironic, yes. Funny? Not so much.

Lucia continued, "Now I blame myself. All these years."

Frankie grabbed Lucia's hand again. "Don't be ridiculous! It's not your fault."

"Maybe yes, maybe no."

Then Frankie recalled Lucia reminding her of Strega Nona, who used magic.

"Definitely no." Frankie paused. "What did he die from?"

"Heart attack." Lucia sighed.

"You know what I think? I mean if you want my opinion."

"Please."

"I think all that running around, behind your back, that's what killed him. Not you. He brought this on himself." She patted Lucia's hand.

"You know, I never told this story to anyone before." Lucia looked at Frankie with puppy-dog eyes.

"I am flattered and happy you could share this. You cannot blame yourself. You were a good wife and mother."

" Sì . Some people knew about his fidanzata , his girlfriend, but I held my head high. Stupido ."

"So, you didn't get divorced, and he died."

" Sì ."

"Did you ever think that it was God who saved you from your terrible marriage?"

Lucia furrowed her brow. "No."

"We have a word for it. It's called karma."

" Sì . Yes. Karma." Lucia's face brightened.

Frankie tugged at Lucia's sleeve. "I think it's time for you to shed these widow clothes. You have suffered and grieved enough. If you think about it, you were grieving your faithless marriage long before your husband passed."

Lucia nodded. "Yes, I grieved for five years before he died."

"Well, I think you have paid your grieving dues. And who is to decide how long one should grieve? It's all very personal."

They hadn't noticed Rosevita standing in the doorway. She made a slight rustle to announce her presence.

"Rosevita! Buongiorno !" Frankie said with surprise.

"Buongiorno!" Rosevita replied. She went immediately to Lucia and hugged her. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You hear everything?"

"I heard enough. Frankie is right. And enough is enough."

"So I can wear pretty clothes again?" Lucia asked hopefully, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Absolutely!" Frankie said, wondering if this was a good time to approach Rosevita with the same option.

Rosevita pulled out a chair and sat across from them. "You know, the other night when I saw Giovanni in his father's suit, I realized the suit has moved on, and so should I."

Frankie held her breath before she made the next big suggestion. "I have an idea! Mr. Parisi is having his party tomorrow night, right?"

" Sì ."

"How about if my friend Nina and I help the two of you get ready for the party? Let's go into town and buy new dresses for you. Nina and I will do something with your hair."

"And a little makeup?" Lucia said coyly. Then she looked down at her feet. "What about-a the shoes? Can I get new shoes?"

"Absolutely!" Frankie was over the moon. "This is going to be so much fun!" She paused. "And we cannot forget red underwear!"

"No!" Lucia gasped. "I'm too old."

"You are never too old to have some fun. Plus, I hear it's a tradition. We're all going to wear red underwear!"

"Do you think we find my size?" Lucia could barely get the words out.

Frankie leaned in and whispered, "Even if we have to find boxer shorts."

Lucia was so overcome with relief, the welled-up tears streamed down her face. She was laughing and crying at the same time. Rosevita had a similar reaction. It was time for them to move on and enjoy life again.

The three women had a group hug and exclaimed, "Vivere, ridere, amare!" Live, laugh, love!

Frankie could barely contain her excitement and ran downstairs to tell Giovanni. When she barged into his room, he woke with a start.

"Everything okay? What's happened?"

"Everything is molto bene ! Tomorrow, Nina and I are going to take Lucia and your mother shopping for new dresses."

Giovanni bolted upright. "What? New dresses? What happened?"

"Just a little girl talk." This time, it was her turn to kiss him on top of the head. "You'll be on your own with Peter and Richard. Maybe Amy." Then Frankie jumped up and hooted, "Woo-hoo!" before she scrambled up the stairs.

Giovanni and Frankie headed over to the house in Baronissi to pick up the rest of the crew. Nina proudly presented the package to Giovanni. "I was so immersed in pizza heaven, I forgot to give this to you last night." She handed him the shopping bag that contained the shirt and blazer. "A token of our appreciation."

Giovanni was taken aback when he saw the name Armani on the bag. He had several items from the renowned designer, so he knew that whatever was inside was of value and quality, and a bit pricey.

"Oh, Nina, this is not so necessary."

Frankie gave him a sideways look that said, accept the gift with grace.

"But I appreciate it very much. Can I open now?"

"That depends. How many days have you been wearing the same shirt?"

"I wash every night," Giovanni said defensively.

"Open the bag." Nina stood with her arms folded.

Giovanni removed the perfectly wrapped items with the Armani logo sticker on the tissue. "Bellissimo!" Giovanni remarked. "I need a shirt!" Then he opened the packaged blazer. He let out a whistle. "Wow! Fantastico !" He immediately removed the one he had been wearing for the past several days and tried on the new one. It fit perfectly. He grabbed Nina and kissed her on both cheeks. " Mille grazie ! This is too much!"

Frankie elbowed him. "And I love it!" he continued.

"Speaking of clothes, have they found your luggage yet?" Richard asked.

"I think it took the train," Giovanni joked. "Maybe tonight. But I don't need it now!" He was smiling from ear to ear. " Andiamo ! We have places to go, sights to see, and food to eat!"

Giovanni explained the area as they drove west. "There is much to do here. You can hike, swim, and sail. Of course, eat and shop." He continued to describe the coastal communities. "The Amalfi Coast is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, protected by the United Nations."

"Yes, I read about this. Plus, Frankie gave us a little geography lesson," Amy interjected. "It's a place on earth with historic and cultural value. There are just under two thousand designated sites in the entire world," she continued in her professorial cadence. "It's situated in Southern Italy's Campania region, and stretches for approximately thirty miles, with towns and villages connected by the SS 163 highway."

"Very good, Amy!" Giovanni applauded. "We will experience one of the most magnificent driving routes in all of Europe. It can be a little, how you say, breathtaking." Giovanni ran down the list of the waterfront towns. "The most popular is Positano, but they are all beautiful. From west to east, it starts with Vietri sul Mare, then Cetara, Maiori, Minori, Atrani, Amalfi, Conca dei Marini, and Praiano. Up on the hills are Ravello, Tramonti, Furore, and Agerola."

"And you get an ‘A' in geography," Amy clowned around.

" Sì . For one, I grew up here, and for two, we had to know this in school. So, yes, I get an ‘A.' "

As they began the journey on the highway, everyone noticed how narrow the road was, and how fast people were driving. It was more than breathtaking. It was breath-holding. It was hard to tell where the whoa s, yikes es, and oh my s were coming from amongst the passengers.

When the vehicle finally stopped in Amalfi, their legs were like Jell-O as they exited the van.

"That was more like an amusement park ride," Amy blurted as she clung to Peter's arm. "Wow. People do this every day?"

"Pretty much." Giovanni grinned. "Come, we'll have some coffee."

"I don't know if I can handle caffeine after that. Do we have to go back the same way?" Amy asked.

"No, we'll be in Sorrento, and there is a calmer highway back." Giovanni slapped Peter on the back. "She okay?"

Peter looked at Amy. "You okay?"

"Yes. I'm good. I guess I wasn't expecting such a serpentine ride."

"Ah, and you said you did your homework," Giovanni teased. He didn't mention they hadn't really started the journey. It was only going to become more of a white-knuckle ride.

"It looked different on paper." Amy pouted.

Amalfi is situated at the mouth of a deep ravine at the base of Monte Cerreto, with coastal scenery amid the high cliffs. It was once an important trading port and a place of power in the Mediterranean in the years between 800 and 1200. The group started their walking tour at the port and the arsenal Piazza Dante, passing fountains, and the Amalfi Duomo. Most of the towns along the coast were vertical, with buildings situated in the cliffsides. Rows of homes were terraced from the beaches to over twelve hundred feet of bluffs.

They meandered through the covered streets and finished their tour at the Paper Museum. Fashioned after the Chinese invented paper, Amalfi became one of the world's premier producers of paper. Frankie was especially intrigued by the history and process and purchased authentic Amalfi paper goods to bring back to work. She bought several boxes of note cards of different sizes. "These are perfect to send with an Advance Reading Copy or BLADs."

"What's a BLAND and an Advance Reading Copy?" Randy asked.

"It's BLAD. B.L.A.D stands for ‘basic layout and design.' We do it for cookbooks and other artsy stuff. Most other books, like fiction or nonfiction, get a very limited printing of the first pass. They're uncorrected proofs. We need to get those to reviewers four months ahead of when the book goes on sale. I always write a personal note. You know, ‘hope you like this' or tell them how excited I am about an upcoming title."

"Aren't you supposed to be excited about every upcoming title?" Randy tilted his head and batted his eyes.

"Let's not overstate the obvious." Frankie chuckled. "We have to be excited. It's the unspoken rule of corporate."

Rachael and Nina also purchased several boxes of the luxurious handcrafted paper.

"I love the deckled edges on them. And the watermark. Impressive," Rachael stated as she ran her hand across the soft texture.

After they paid for their goods, the travelers returned to the van and moved on to Praiano to take another look at the spectacular scenery and the statue of Christ the Redeemer, the second largest statue in the world, after the one in Rio de Janeiro.

On the drive to Positano, they were awed by the magnificent landscape. Terraced among the rocks and greenery, neutral-colored buildings with tiled roofs were surrounded with lemon groves, olive trees, and Mediterranean scrub. Once they arrived, they decided to give themselves two hours to meander the streets and eventually meet up at a restaurant Giovanni recommended.

Nina, Frankie, Rachael, and Randy were in shopping mode, while Amy, Richard, and Peter were in sightseeing mode. Giovanni offered to show them around the scenic, famous town while the others watched local cobblers make shoes right in front of them.

"You know I am going to have to get a pair of those," Nina said.

"To go with your sweatpants wardrobe?" Frankie joked.

"Listen, since I've been here, I have an entirely new appreciation for fine fabric and clothing," Nina said.

"Hallelujah," Rachael cracked. "Although I have to say, you have been looking a bit spiffier since you got here."

"You can thank Jordan for that. He fashion-shamed me."

"Oh, I'd love to meet the person who disgraced you into real clothes!" Randy said.

"And you will. I've invited him to the party tomorrow," Nina replied.

"Excellent. Anyone with good taste in clothing is at the top of my list," Randy said gleefully.

Nina eyed Frankie. Randy might just have a new playmate. They were going to have to figure out something for Rachael. She wouldn't get jealous, just miffed that she wasn't getting Randy's full attention.

"Who else is coming to the party?" Nina asked.

"I'm actually not sure who Giovanni invited besides us. I'll have to ask him later," Frankie answered.

"Maybe we can rent a date for her."

"I think that's called a gigolo."

"Didn't Italians invent them?" Nina gave Frankie a playful nudge.

"No, the French."

"Figures," Nina scoffed.

"The French what?" Rachael sidled up to the girls.

"Invented brioche," Frankie replied with a straight face.

Nina sat on the stool in front of the cobbler, who measured her foot. She picked out the style and color, and he told her to come back in an hour.

"Wow. Custom sandals," Rachael marveled. "Maybe I should get a pair." She looked at the man who was cutting the tanned leather.

"Apologies. I can only do-a one pair before we close-a for lunch."

Rachael looked at Frankie and Nina. "Food is definitely a priority here."

"Not such a bad thing." Nina patted her stomach. "Although I think I may have gained a few pounds since I've been here."

"I'm sure we'll walk it off today," Frankie said. "But I don't think you gained weight, honey pie. You're just not used to wearing pants with a waistband."

"Ha, ha," Nina sneered. "But I have to admit, I do feel more upscale than usual."

"Good food, good wine, and nice clothes can do that to you," Frankie commented.

Rachael spotted another artisan making small leather handbags. "Look! I'm going over there." She pointed down the narrow street. "See you in a few."

Rachael automatically flirted with the young apprentice working with the leather craftsman. " Buongiorno !" She gave him one of her winning smiles.

"Buongiorno, signorina. Come stai?"

"Molto bene." Rachael tried to be coy with her feeble Italian.

"What can we help you with today?" The young man's eyes pierced hers.

Is every young man in Italy gorgeous? she thought to herself. Rachael was not easily disarmed by men. If anything, she was always in control. At least at first blush. But this guy rattled her. She gathered her composure and asked if he could make a small crossbody bag for her.

"Do you not like any of these?" He brought her inside the shop. There were dozens to choose from, with different silhouettes, colors, and sizes.

"Oh, but I wanted you to make one for me." She fluttered her eyes.

"Ah. Signorina, I show you the ones I make." He gently took her elbow and walked her toward a display. She thought she was going to faint. Her eye went to a burnished, burgundy-colored bag with fringe.

"This is beautiful."

He took it off the rack and placed it over her shoulder. "I can make the strap any length for you."

His handsome looks were making her dizzy. For one of the few times in her life, Rachael was speechless. The man was raw beauty. "I . . . I think this is fine." Then she got ahold of herself and said, "But I wanted you to make it especially for me."

The young man smiled. "I cannot do that for you today, but I can make your initial on it. Then you can say it was made for you."

"That would be fantastico!" Rachael exclaimed.

"Come." He walked her to the back of the shop. "Tell me, what is your name, signorina?"

"Rachael." She could barely speak.

"Ah." He gestured for her to hand the purse to him.

He took the front flap and placed it on a large slab of stone on a workbench; then he showed her different styles of fonts. "What you like?"

"Oh, you decide."

The man eyed her up and down. "I think you need something feminile ." He showed her a sample of script. "You like?"

" Sì ." She didn't know what else to say.

He made a fine pencil line of the letter and then fired up the burning tool. Within a few short minutes, the letter R was inscribed on the bag.

"Bellissimo!" Rachael fussed. She touched his arm. Big mistake. He had muscles from Amalfi to Nova Scotia. She silently scolded herself, Behave, girl . Then she noticed a young woman at the other side of the shop, giving her the stink eye. Of course, this man was spoken for. Rachael quickly thanked and paid him and hotfooted it out of the shop before the young woman could say anything or, even worse, do anything. Rachael had watched too many Real Housewives of New Jersey not to know what an angry Italian woman was capable of.

She quickly caught up with her pals. "Where's Randy?"

Nina nodded to a millinery shop across the street. The three of them spotted him inside, trying on several fedoras. When he noticed them watching, he called out, "What do you think, girls?"

"I like it," Nina said, and nodded. "I think I like the cream-colored one."

"Not the baby blue?" Randy frowned. "It matches my eyes."

"Nope. Cream." Rachael barged in and said, "He'll take this one." She took it from Randy's hand and gave it to the woman.

"So glad I asked," he tsk ed.

"It's on me, cowboy." Rachael handed the woman her credit card.

"Well then, I guess I do like the cream better." Randy raised his eyebrows. He plopped the hat on his head. "Now I really feel like I'm on the Amalfi Coast."

They walked back to the cobbler to fetch Nina's sandals and then through the Piazza del Mulini, where they caught up with the rest of the gang.

They headed toward the beach and up a flight of stone steps to a restaurant perched on a cliff. Boats of all shapes and sizes bobbed in the water below.

The table was arranged with two on each side and four in the middle, so everyone had a view of the sea. Giovanni spoke to the waiter in Italian and ordered Negronis for everyone. When the waiter returned with the tray, he began to spout off the specials of the day. Most of it was fish, all freshly caught.

Giovanni asked if anyone minded if he ordered for the table. Naturally there were no objections. He rattled off his selections: lemon tagliolini pasta with shrimp, ravioli stuffed with tomatoes and ricotta cheese, and grilled zucchini. They were going to share it family-style. Two bottles of wine were brought to the table when the entrees were served. They mostly ate in silence, enjoying the epicurean delights and the view of the sea.

"Giovanni, why did you ever leave Italy?" Rachael asked.

"My family moved to New York when I was twelve. My father took over the restaurant."

"But it's so beautiful here," Amy said in awe.

"True. But remember, when my grandfather first went to America, Italy was not in such good shape, and he wanted to make a better life for his family. And so it goes for many generations."

"Would you ever consider coming back?" Richard asked.

Giovanni looked at Frankie. "Maybe yes. Maybe no. It depends on how life goes."

"I concur," Richard replied. "I never thought I'd open a practice in New York and still keep my practice in Philadelphia." He squeezed Nina's hand under the table. Both knew that it was because of Nina that Richard made concessions in order to spend more time with her.

"I can say the same," shared Randy. "I hadn't considered moving to New York until Miss Dancing Shoes, here, got me a job."

"I went to New York, too," Nina added.

"And I went from Stanford to Boston," Amy chimed in.

"I guess we're the poster children for ‘You Never Know,' right, Frankie?" Nina said with a grin, knowing that was one of Frankie's favorite expressions.

"And here we are. In Italy. On the Amalfi Coast. Who knew?" Frankie quipped.

After their leisurely lunch, Giovanni directed them to follow him to the port and told them that he had made reservations on the ferry to take them to Sorrento. "We cannot get to Capri this trip, but we will pass by, and you can see the rest of the coastline from the water. Nobody gets seasick, no?"

Amy figured it couldn't be worse than the nail-biting ride from Salerno.

A crowd waited to board the ferry. Even though it was winter and the tourist crowd wasn't as vast as it was in the summer, Giovanni anticipated there would be hordes of people and ordered tickets in advance. The boat carried over a hundred passengers, all clamoring to get a seat by a window. Giovanni tipped one of the crew members, who pulled the group out of the waiting line and escorted them to the first row on the boat.

It was a high-speed ferry that would make the trip in just under forty minutes. They swiftly passed the rocky cliffs that jutted into the sea, the hillside dotted with houses, and Medieval structures that looked like forts in a state of disrepair. As the boat approached the far end of the peninsula, it was easy to catch sight of Capri. Voices speaking Italian were full of excitement, as if they were on an amusement park ride.

Once they docked in Sorrento, the group walked to Tasso Square, where large baskets of flowers in wrought iron stands lined the middle of the road separating the flow of traffic. The busy square had a scenic overlook of an aerial view of a gorge created by volcanic activity. They passed the Sedite di Porta, a historic building that once housed prisoners.

Peter noted the town seemed much busier than the previous ones they visited earlier.

Giovanni replied, " Sì . It's much easier to get to Sorrento from Naples so, yes, very busy place."

They turned to Corso Italia, a favorite shopping area, closed to traffic but filled with high-end and local artisan shops, where you can find hand-painted ceramics and anything and everything lemon.

He went on to explain that over the centuries, Sorrento was ruled by the Greeks, Romans, Byzantines, French, and Spanish. "You can see the Spanish influence in the architecture and hear it in the dialect."

He ushered them through an alley that brought them to the Sorrento Cathedral. It was built in the Romanesque style in the fifteenth century and is home to many pieces of art from the Neapolitan School from the eighteenth century. "The building was restored in 1933."

They followed him back to Corso when Rachael stopped abruptly.

"Check this out!" She pointed to a small boutique called Shopping Victim. In front of the store was a large cart filled with bags of lemons, lemon candy, lemon juice, lemon balm, lemon-scented candles. "You weren't kidding! Everything lemon!"

She had to buy a bag of the bright yellow fruit. "Do you think I can get this through customs?"

"You could just buy lemons at home," Randy snorted.

"But not Sorrento lemons." She stuck her tongue at him.

Giovanni realized everyone was getting a little cranky. They had covered a lot of territory over the past several hours. Too bad there was no place to take a pennichella . Espresso would have to do. "Come. Let's rest a while." He ushered them to an open-air café, where he ordered pastry and heavy-duty coffee for everyone.

Amy sighed. "I am running out of steam."

"Me, too," Nina echoed, and shot a sideways glance at Frankie.

Frankie didn't want to say anything to Giovanni, fearful she would hurt his feelings if she suggested they head home.

Peter and Richard were silent. They didn't want to seem lame, but they, too, were bedraggled.

It didn't take much for Giovanni to get the hint. "I think, if nobody minds, maybe we should go back home after the coffee."

"Oh, but not until we sample some of the limoncello. I've heard this is where it was invented," Randy responded.

"How about we buy a few bottles?" Richard suggested.

"Brilliant!" Peter added.

"So, it is settled. I will cancel the dinner appointment and let the driver know to pick us up soon."

"Didn't he leave us at the dock?" Amy asked.

"Yes, but I tell him to drive to Sorrento to bring us back."

"Are you sure you're not a travel guide?" Richard asked.

"Not such a good one. I make my people tired," Giovanni said solemnly.

Everyone started contradicting him at the same time.

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"Are you crazy?"

"Pazzo?"

"Insane?"

"Pul-lease!"

He held up his hands. "Okay. Okay. I'm not such a bad tour guide."

Frankie threw her arms around his neck and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. Randy was sitting on the other side of him and did the same.

"Mille grazie," Giovanni said, blushing.

"I'm not trying to rush anyone, but when will the car be here?" Randy asked.

"Half hour. Maybe a little more," Giovanni answered.

"Then there still is time to have some limoncello and bring some back to the house, and back to home, home." Randy clapped happily. "I saw a place right around the corner."

"Excellent!" Richard said. "I'll go with you."

The two men got up from the café table and walked to the shop.

"Oh my gosh. As Rachael would say, ‘my dogs are killing me,' " Randy quipped.

Richard gave him a curious look. "Your what?"

"Dogs. Feet. Don't ask. I have no idea where that expression came from."

They walked quickly to the store and bought six bottles. While the cashier was wrapping them, they sampled the famous elixir.

"Oh. My. Gosh. Is this the tastiest thing you've ever had?" Randy exclaimed.

"I'll tell you, I haven't had one bad thing since we've been here." Richard downed the sample, and the cashier poured another into his paper cup. "Is it safe?" he asked.

The woman cackled, "You are in Sorrento. Everything or nothing is safe. It's up to you!"

They gathered their procurements and thanked the woman.

"These people have such a great attitude, don't they?" Randy remarked.

"Most definitely. Before we got here, I watched something about Naples, Pompeii, and Vesuvius. Evidently, the threat of an eruption has given the people an exuberance for life."

Randy pondered that for a moment. "That actually makes sense. But it shouldn't take living in the shadow of a volcano for us to appreciate life."

Richard became pensive. "I am beginning to understand the meaning of ‘Every moment is a gift.' Sometimes it takes a change of scenery to figure it out. Would that be considered literally, or metaphorically?"

"Oh, who cares? Maybe it was just a pun." Randy held up the paper cup the woman had refilled for them. "Cin cin!"

When they returned to the café, Amy's head was on Peter's shoulder. He whispered, "Pennichella."