Cristina could hear noise in the background. Salvaterri’s phone hung on the wall near the kitchen door. Cooks and waiters buzzed about him. Peak hours were approaching when the neighborhood would march in, expecting lasagna and chianti. But Angelo took a break and called Cristina at home.
“Angelo, get back to work, they’re going to fire you for talking to me.”
“I just wanted to check on my baby, baby.”
Cristina looked down at the globe on her abdomen. “I’m fine and so’s the baby, baby.”
“What’re you doing, sunshine?”
“I’m helping Ma with dinner. Pop will be home from the market in an hour. I have to get back to the stove. I had a rough day with Agnes today.”
“Why? What’s wrong with Miss Limerick?”
“I can’t say on the phone, but she’s in real trouble. She has to marry Norman.”
“Why does she have to marry that monster?”
“There’s only one answer to that question, Angelo. Now back to work!”
She hung up. Of course, Angelo would call Norman a monster – she’d told him about Florence, being left on the street, no hotel and no money to pay for one, when he ran off to Berlin. Now that she worked in the same office as Norman, she had to be civil – but not polite. More than once she’d thrown daggers at him. And now he’d gotten her new friend pregnant, and she didn’t know any better about the way he operated. Norman Balmoral was a true operator.
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