Carlo had grown fond of Arabella and wanted to see if she would agree to spend more time with him. When he had the chance, he asked her to join him for dinner at one of the trattorie in the town. "A date" the Americans would have called it and, although Arabella understood the evening to represent the same purpose, she demurely pretended it to be just another opportunity to get to know the man and his culture in the United States.
“My uncles, they moved to America,” she said over a plate of lanache di casa, tagliatelle dressed with mussels stuffed with breadcrumbs, eggs, and pecorino cheese, and stewed in a rich tomato sauce.
“Really? When was that?”
“Well, Zio Alberto left about fifteen years ago to follow his brother, Giusto. They found jobs in New York. Didn"t like it at first, too c
