New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [361]
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, or get 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 out on Long Island, or anywhere else for that matter, but that there was only one thing that could bring him happiness. Then he told her he loved her and asked if she would marry him.
He was rather surprised by her reaction. She did not answer at once, but looked down, as if she were considering.
“May I have a little time?” she said at last.
“Time? Certainly.” He frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” She seemed to hesitate, and looked troubled.
“Perhaps you do not like me.”
“Salvatore, you are the best man I have ever met. I am honored by your proposal. I did not say no.”
“It’s your parents, isn’t it? I will speak to your father.”
“No.” She smiled. “Not yet. Give me a little time, Salvatore, and I will give you my answer.”
That was all she would say. Somewhat confused, he returned to New York.
A week passed before he spoke to her again. When he called the house she answered the telephone herself. She sounded very friendly. But when he said he was thinking of going out to Long Island on Sunday, she said her parents required her to be at home that day, so he decided not to go.
It was on the following Thursday that Uncle Luigi came in excitedly. He had received a telephone call at the restaurant from Long Island. The Carusos had received visitors.
“Teresa and her parents,” he told Salvatore. “She brought them over so that Angelo could make a drawing of her father—they paid him for it, too. Her father and mother spent time with your parents, and it seems they got on famously. They are friends already.”
And hearing this, Salvatore was lost in admiration for the girl he loved. Clearly, he’d been right; there had been objections raised about his family. Now, on a simple pretext, she had got her parents to his family’s house, and let them discover that they liked the Carusos. She was paving the way for their marriage.
He waited eagerly for her next move.
The weather grew warmer in April, and Angelo grew stronger. At the end of the second week, he returned to the city and announced he was ready to work. He certainly looked well.
The building site where Salvatore was working stood on the corner of Fifth Avenue and Forty-fifth. Mr. French