stadium filled with parents and children.
A family of eight filed in past them, all chattering excitedly about the circus. Below, a parade of animals entered from a large doorway, and acrobats swung by their knees on trapezes hung from the rafters.
“So I’m guessing from the photos in your apartment that you have a pretty large family,” Cary said after they had gotten Massimo settled. He leaned closer to make himself heard over the din of the crowd and the announcements over the PA.
“You could say that.” Antonio’s face lit up at the mention of his family. “Four sisters, ten nieces and nephews. Most of us live in or near Milan, so we see each other at least once a month at the vineyard.”
“Vineyard?”
“Yes. In the Lombardy wine region. After my father died a few years ago, my mother hired people to run it for her, but she still lives on the property. It’s a very large house. Perfect for family get-togethers. The kids can run around and the adults sit, eat, and drink. Remind me to have you try the wine—it’s excellent.”
“Papà! Connore! Look! Clowns!” Massimo stood up and nearly spilled his drink in his excitement, but Cary grabbed it at the last second.
“See, I told you, they’re Italian clowns,” Antonio pointed out.
“How do you know that?” Massimo demanded with a frown. “You can’t hear them speak.”
“Smart kid. He has a point, though.” Cary grinned at Antonio, who laughed. Massimo, seeing this interaction, flashed Cary a bright smile and then looked pointedly at his father as if to say, See… Connore agrees with me!
A group of children from the audience had gathered down on the floor of the arena, and the clowns came over to greet them.
“Would you like to find out if the clowns are Italian?” Cary heard himself ask.
He was still trying to figure out why he had even offered when Massimo responded with an energetic “Will you take me, Connore? Please, please!”
“Sure.” Cary ignored Antonio’s look of approval and hoped he didn’t look half as nervous as he felt. He still hated kids, he told himself as he and Massimo descended the sticky concrete steps and joined the parents and children near the ring.
Massimo watched in fascination as one of the clowns made a balloon dog and handed it to a little girl, who jumped up and down in excitement when she showed it to her mother.
“Would you like one too?” Cary asked as they moved closer.
“ Sì , sì !” Massimo shouted. The clown smiled at them and put his hands up in the air. “What does he want, Connore?”
“He wants to know what you want him to make for you.”
“I want… I want…,” Massimo repeated, his face screwed up in concentration.
“I think I have an idea,” Cary said. “Do you trust me?”
The little boy appeared to consider this question, then nodded.
Cary winked at Massimo and approached the clown, covered his mouth with his hand, and whispered something into the clown’s ear. The clown nodded and got to work.
“What’s he making?” Massimo was wide-eyed as he watched the clown’s quick movements with fascination.
“I won’t tell. That would spoil the surprise, wouldn’t it?”
The twinkle in Massimo’s eyes belied his studious frown, and he burst out laughing a moment later when the clown handed him the balloon creation. “It’s an airplane!” he shouted happily, dancing about and pretending to make it fly.
“ Grazie .” Cary nodded to the clown as they turned to head back up the steps so Massimo could show his father. The clown waved his arm with a flourish and bowed.
“Papà was wrong,” Massimo said as they headed back up to their seats, weaving in and out of other parents and children descending the steep steps. Massimo clasped Cary’s good hand and held the airplane against his chest to protect it.
“About what?”
“About the clowns.”
“How’s that?” Cary asked.
“They don’t speak Italian.”
“And they don’t speak English,
A family of eight filed in past them, all chattering excitedly about the circus. Below, a parade of animals entered from a large doorway, and acrobats swung by their knees on trapezes hung from the rafters.
“So I’m guessing from the photos in your apartment that you have a pretty large family,” Cary said after they had gotten Massimo settled. He leaned closer to make himself heard over the din of the crowd and the announcements over the PA.
“You could say that.” Antonio’s face lit up at the mention of his family. “Four sisters, ten nieces and nephews. Most of us live in or near Milan, so we see each other at least once a month at the vineyard.”
“Vineyard?”
“Yes. In the Lombardy wine region. After my father died a few years ago, my mother hired people to run it for her, but she still lives on the property. It’s a very large house. Perfect for family get-togethers. The kids can run around and the adults sit, eat, and drink. Remind me to have you try the wine—it’s excellent.”
“Papà! Connore! Look! Clowns!” Massimo stood up and nearly spilled his drink in his excitement, but Cary grabbed it at the last second.
“See, I told you, they’re Italian clowns,” Antonio pointed out.
“How do you know that?” Massimo demanded with a frown. “You can’t hear them speak.”
“Smart kid. He has a point, though.” Cary grinned at Antonio, who laughed. Massimo, seeing this interaction, flashed Cary a bright smile and then looked pointedly at his father as if to say, See… Connore agrees with me!
A group of children from the audience had gathered down on the floor of the arena, and the clowns came over to greet them.
“Would you like to find out if the clowns are Italian?” Cary heard himself ask.
He was still trying to figure out why he had even offered when Massimo responded with an energetic “Will you take me, Connore? Please, please!”
“Sure.” Cary ignored Antonio’s look of approval and hoped he didn’t look half as nervous as he felt. He still hated kids, he told himself as he and Massimo descended the sticky concrete steps and joined the parents and children near the ring.
Massimo watched in fascination as one of the clowns made a balloon dog and handed it to a little girl, who jumped up and down in excitement when she showed it to her mother.
“Would you like one too?” Cary asked as they moved closer.
“ Sì , sì !” Massimo shouted. The clown smiled at them and put his hands up in the air. “What does he want, Connore?”
“He wants to know what you want him to make for you.”
“I want… I want…,” Massimo repeated, his face screwed up in concentration.
“I think I have an idea,” Cary said. “Do you trust me?”
The little boy appeared to consider this question, then nodded.
Cary winked at Massimo and approached the clown, covered his mouth with his hand, and whispered something into the clown’s ear. The clown nodded and got to work.
“What’s he making?” Massimo was wide-eyed as he watched the clown’s quick movements with fascination.
“I won’t tell. That would spoil the surprise, wouldn’t it?”
The twinkle in Massimo’s eyes belied his studious frown, and he burst out laughing a moment later when the clown handed him the balloon creation. “It’s an airplane!” he shouted happily, dancing about and pretending to make it fly.
“ Grazie .” Cary nodded to the clown as they turned to head back up the steps so Massimo could show his father. The clown waved his arm with a flourish and bowed.
“Papà was wrong,” Massimo said as they headed back up to their seats, weaving in and out of other parents and children descending the steep steps. Massimo clasped Cary’s good hand and held the airplane against his chest to protect it.
“About what?”
“About the clowns.”
“How’s that?” Cary asked.
“They don’t speak Italian.”
“And they don’t speak English,
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