At first impression, the Little Italy section looked like any other part of any other city. Shops with what probably were apartments or offices above them, nice older houses. True the restaurants were predominately Italian, and he heard the old people he walked by chattering away to each other in Italian, but that was it—until he turned the corner onto the street where the Bel Cibo restaurant was located. It was brick paved, some of the shops were ivy-covered, and homes had well-trimmed, tree-shaded lawns.
Probably not like Italy but nice and atmospheric.
Before venturing down to Bel Cibo, he returned to the main street through the area and made stops at several of the restaurants there. Pasting a hopeful but discouraged look on his face, he would ask to speak to the manager. When they w
