Free The Queen of the Big Time by Adriana Trigiani Page A

loved one all together!
‘This path—how soft to pace!
‘This May—what magic weather.’ ”
    “He wrote that?” Chettie claps her hands together.
    “No, Robert Browning. But it’s how I feel.”
    The music swells again and the dance floor fills. I look through the crowd for Renato, but he is gone. I’m not surprised. I don’t think it’s in my destiny for him to stay, only to come into my life to stir me up and go. Never the time and the place and Renato Lanzara altogether. Not for me, anyway.
    “The curtains are fine, but I really want a valance. I’ll arrange to have some brocade sent over from Delgrosso’s.” Assunta steps back fromthe bay window of her living room, surveying my work. Just as she wished, Alessandro bought half a house on Dewey Street, and even negotiated the side with the shade tree. And just as she ordered, I come by and help with the housework. Assunta has made the transition from our farm to town without a hitch. It helps that Alessandro has set up accounts to import nuts and candy with the biggest stores in Allentown, Bethlehem, and Easton. He is making a good living, and Assunta is finding ways to spend the money. She has a mahogany dining table and matching chairs with velvet seats. Room by room, she is turning her home into a showplace.
    I am looking forward to the summer passing quickly. I’m hoping Papa makes enough money with his new contract to send me on the trolley from the farm to school, so I don’t have to stay with Assunta and Alessandro during the school year. I hate housework and chores, and here, that’s all I do, day in and day out. Assunta spends all her time thinking up chores for me to do. She has the cleanest house on Dewey Street.
    As soon as Alessandro arrived, Assunta quit her job at the mill, so she has lots of time to worry about things like which way the teacup handles go in the dish hutch. Little bits of Assunta’s mean, old ways creep through once in a while, and when her temper flares, Alessandro looks confused. Assunta turns to me. “I’m going to start supper. Nella, take down the laundry on the line in the back.”
    I grab the deep wicker basket on the back porch and go down the steps to the yard. The clothesline is stretched from tree to tree, almost like a curtain separating the garden from the house. I pull down the stiff white cotton sheets, dried by the hot sun. Alessandro looks up from the garden.
    “You need help?” he asks.
    “No. This is women’s work,” I joke.
    “Are you going to the farm tonight?”
    “I hope so.” Quickly I realize I might have hurt his feelings. Alessandro does his best to make me feel at home here, and not likethe maid I am. “Just to check on Mama, see if she needs help with the girls. And I want to see the new machinery Papa had delivered.” I hope this covers my rudeness.
    “My wife is working you too hard.”
    “It’s not so bad,” I tell him, but really, what I want to say is that there is no pleasing her and I’ll bet every day he wishes he had married one of those quiet girls from his Italian village instead of Assunta the Bossy American.
    “In Italy, there is a tradition of a maiden aunt who helps the married sister. Did you know that?”
    “I didn’t.” If Allessandro is trying to cheer me up, it’s not working.
    “Yes, and the married sister becomes dependent upon the help.” He points to the house with the hoe. “I told my wife not to get too comfortable handing chores over to you, because the day will come when you leave us.”
    “Don’t worry about that. College is three years away.”
    “Ah, yes. You want to go to school,” Alessandro remembers.
    “Oh, I am going to college,” I say loudly to him, the old black cat that lies on the stone fence by the garden, and anyone else within earshot on Dewey Street.
    “Bene. Bene . I believe you.” Alessandro laughs. “You are too young to be a maiden aunt, and I think you are meant to be married.” He smiles.
    “We’ll