Chapter 12
Caffé RossettiThere was an upside to not being together in Alba. She was always telling him not to drink so much wine.
“It'll blur your judgment,” she said.
“Like choosing you for a partner,” he almost blurted out one night.
In Alba, the birthplace of Barolo and other magnificent Italian wines, not partaking of the vinous treasures would have been a sin. Red wine, white wine, even many sparkling wines made from Cortese and Moscato. He couldn't drink them all, but he didn't mind making a serious go of it.
So he found a shady seat on the sidewalk outside of Caffé Rossetti, and relaxed. Piazza Rossetti itself was small and just off the main pedestrian thoroughfare, so he didn't think he'd run into anyone that he didn't want to see. Like his accomplice, or the truffle hunter he
