When Raffaele came home, the house was quiet, but there was light in the kitchen. As he walked in, he found his mother sitting in front of a cup of tea, working on some cross stitch, the colourful pattern laid out on the table in front of her.
“What are you making?” he asked as he sat down on the chair next to her.
“Decoration for the nursery. Your father’s cousin is having a pup in a few weeks,” she replied without interrupting her work. Raffaele rarely saw her hands stand still, she was always working. If she wasn’t busy with her Luna duties, she was taking care of her family, or she was cooking or baking. When there was nothing else to do, she would make something with her hands, that she could give away to someone. The only thing that could make her sit still sometimes was a good b
