The RecordsI sat in the office of records, pouring through musty documents older than me, some older than my grandfather. I knew what I was looking for but couldn't find it. Just as I felt I was drawing closer to it, a whiff of a familiar perfume caught my attention. I turned quickly around and looked directly into a voluptuous female torso. Letting my eyes drift upward, I saw Antonina looking down at me.
“You know, don't you,” she said, without it sounding like a question.
“Yes, but I didn't realize it until Santo reminded me of the Italian custom of naming children. When I reflected on the words Signora Grana repeated, I put it together. I know that…”
“Shhh. Not here,” she said with a finger to her glossy red lips. “Come with me.”
I closed the book that I had been so carefully resear
