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New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [359]

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financial magic, and had a long talk with Angelo about investing his savings. Rather surprisingly, Angelo said: “Maybe you’re right. I should do that.” And he listened to his uncle most carefully for more than an hour, nodding his head gravely from time to time. “I only have a little to invest,” he said, but when his uncle asked how much, he just smiled gently and answered: “A little.”

“He is like me,” Uncle Luigi cried delightedly. “Never tell anyone how much you have. Keep them guessing.”

As for Uncle Luigi’s help in making any transactions, Angelo said that his uncle could put him in touch with a trustworthy person to buy any shares for him, but that he’d make the decisions himself. He said this in such a quiet way that Salvatore was impressed. His little brother seemed to be growing up.

Giuseppe and his wife had persuaded Angelo to take a small commission. They wanted him to make them a nice sign with the name of her family’s farm on it. Although he disliked working to order, Angelo had agreed, and on Christmas Day he presented it to them. He had taken the piece of wood they had given him, painted it white, and put the name, Clearwater Farm, in blue letters, together with a little picture of a farmstead, floating like Noah’s Ark, on a blue sea. It was so ingenious and memorable that they were quite overjoyed. And Salvatore could see that Angelo was flattered and pleased by the attention his effort received.

Two days after Christmas, however, Angelo said he felt unwell, and he rested during the remaining days that Salvatore was there.

In the third week of January, when Salvatore next went out to see his parents, Teresa came over, she and her cousin arriving on bicycles. The visit was a big success. Teresa was polite and respectful to his parents. “You can see that she comes from good people,” his mother declared. Salvatore also noticed with pleasure how kind and gentle she was with Angelo. She sat quietly with Angelo and told him stories to make him laugh.

Angelo was looking a little better and his cough was almost gone. But he was still very pale, and spent most of his day indoors, sitting in a big chair. He had obviously been active, though. On the table beside him, Salvatore saw a number of cuttings from the newspapers’ financial pages, some of them ringed in red pencil. There were also designs for a storefront for the local bakery. This was a commission that their father had arranged. They were only paying a little money, but Angelo seemed glad to have something to keep him occupied. When Teresa made a suggestion for an improvement to one of the designs, Angelo looked at the design very intently for a few moments and then said quietly, “No. That is not what I want,” and for a moment Teresa looked a little offended. But then she smiled and lightly remarked: “The patient knows what he wants.”

After that, Angelo said he would make two drawings, one of her and one of her cousin, which he would give them to keep. This pleased both girls, and while this work was in progress, Salvatore went over to see Giuseppe. Then he and Teresa went for a walk to the seashore and back, while her cousin remained, keeping Angelo company. As they were walking together, Teresa told him she’d be coming into the city again soon.

After the girls had gone, he found Angelo looking thoughtful.

“Do you think I shall ever get married?” Angelo asked.

“Of course you will,” said Salvatore.

“Maybe.” Angelo looked uncertain. “I think you should marry Teresa, Salvatore,” he said suddenly. “As soon as you can.”

“She’d have to agree first. And her parents.” Then he laughed. “Maybe you should marry her cousin.” But to his surprise, Angelo looked quite serious. “They are a good family,” he said quietly.

A few minutes later, his mother said: “Don’t let Teresa get away, Toto. That’s the one for you.”

“Maybe, Mama,” he said. But he still wondered what he could do to satisfy her family.

It was two weeks later, on a Friday, that he returned from work to find a tall, thin man waiting for him. The fellow was in his fifties. His black coat was buttoned

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