Free Leonardo da Vinci: Renaissance Master by Ann Hood Page B

shop stank of cheese, the kind her father liked, but no one else did. She wrinkled her nose, trying not to show her disgust.
    A short fat man came from around a counter of cheeses and dried meats, grinning at the sight of Sandro.
    The two men hugged and gushed for so long that Maisie had to clear her throat to remind them she was there.
    Sandro introduced her to Pasquale, who hugged her and gushed at her for so long that she finally said, “Nice to meet you, too,” very loudly, and then, “Sandro said you might have some snacks?”
    â€œAh!” Pasquale said happily. “A hungry girl!”
    He went back around the counter, saying in a singsong voice, “A hungry girl, a hungry girl, Pasquale loves a hungry girl.”
    Maisie stood on tiptoe to watch as he sliced and chopped salami and cheeses of all kinds, whistling as he placed them on a big round plate with olives and hunks of bread.
    â€œTaste! Taste!” Pasquale said when he was done, holding the plate out to Maisie and Sandro.
    She eyed the cheese, wanting to avoid the smelliest, and stuck to the salami instead. She had never seen so many different kinds of salami. There were small discs, hard red slices, softer large ones, and one studded with what looked like seeds. And each kind tasted different—salty, sharp, spicy, and even like licorice.
    Sandro and Pasquale laughed as they watched her eat.
    â€œMay I have one tiny piece of salami?” Sandro teased her.
    Reluctantly she let him have a few pieces, and some cheese and olives, too.
    Usually, Maisie didn’t like most olives, but Great-Aunt Maisie’s love of Niçoise olives had made her fond of those. These were fat and green, cracked and sitting in oil and spices. And, Maisie decided as she tasted one, even better than those shrivelly black Niçoise olives.
    Finally, she couldn’t eat even one more bit. She’d managed to avoid the smelly cheese and nibbled on a hard buttery-tasting one instead.
    â€œPhew,” she said, wiping the oil from her mouth with the back of her hand, “I am stuffed.”
    â€œI bet you are,” Sandro said. “You’ve eaten enough to feed a horse. Two horses!”
    Then Sandro and Pasquale set about hugging each other good-bye, and then Pasquale hugged Maisie good-bye, and then finally they were back outside on the dark street.
    â€œFelix!” Maisie said, suddenly remembering that she was supposed to meet him at ten o’clock.
    â€œWe’ll go to him now,” Sandro said. “We are only a little late.”
    Sure enough, Felix was waiting right where he was supposed to be, looking worried and anxious, pacing back and forth.
    When he saw Maisie, a look of relief came over him.
    â€œMaisie,” he said, “I was afraid—”
    Sandro reached down and pinched Felix’s cheek.
    â€œI was feeding her!” Sandro said. “No need to worry when she is with Sandro Botticelli.”
    â€œOuch!” Felix said, rubbing his cheek.
    â€œI’ll have your masks ready before Carnival,” Sandro promised.
    â€œWhen is Carnival?” Maisie asked.
    â€œIn two days,” Sandro said, confused. “You came to Florence for Carnival and you don’t know when it is?”
    â€œUm . . . ,” Maisie said.
    â€œWhere are you spending
berlingaccio
?” Sandro asked.
    â€œUm . . . ,” Maisie said again.
    â€œYou will spend it with me!” Sandro declared, banging his chest. “At Lorenzo de’ Medici’s Palazzo Medici!”
    â€œOkay,” Maisie said.
    Felix kicked her in the ankle.
    â€œFelix too, right?” she said, glaring at Felix.
    â€œYes, yes, of course,” Sandro said dismissively. “Felix too.”
    â€œThank you,” Maisie said, trying to remember the long
b
word he’d said, so she could find out what exactly they would be doing at this palace.
    It was her turn to kick Felix.
    â€œRight,”