“Nothing. On Sunday we don’t all have to be at work. A few of us are enough, just to check. If he does ask, I will say that you have remained in the country to monitor the work of maintenance of the oil mill and to inspect the olive grove. In any case, take care of it for real. Next week we’ll start to produce the oil.”
“Okay. I'll take care of it.”
“Have a nice day and good luck with everything.”
Peppuccio’s hands both drifted under the crotch of his pants and tightened his family jewels in a superstitious gesture. He laughed amused, while Ventura walked away, speeding the motorbike along the dirt driveway. He came back and put on his black leather boots. They shined because of the abundant seal grease spread on them the night before. Then he went into the stable and harnessed a mare.
