lunch?'
'Because I want Dolcetto, sweetie.' ‘I’ll go if you'll come with me.' 'But then I might as well go by myself.' 'If you want to do that, then just go, Papa.' 'I don't want to go, Chiara. That's why I'm asking you to go for me.'
'But why should I go?'
'Because I work hard to support you all.'
'Mamma works, too.'
'Yes, but my money pays for the house and everything we buy for it.'
She set her book face down on the bed. 'Mamma says that's capitalistic blackmail and I don't have to listen to you when you do it ’
'Chiara,' he said, speaking very softly, 'your mother is a troublemaker, a malcontent, and an agitator.'
'Then how come you always tell me I have to do what she says? ’
He took a very deep breath. Seeing that, Chiara slid
to the edge of the bed and fished for her shoes with her toes. 'How many bottles do you want?' she asked truculently. 'Three.'
She bent down and tied her shoes. Brunetti reached out a hand and caressed her head, but she pulled herself to one side to avoid him. When her shoes were tied, she stood and snatched her jacket up from the floor. She walked past him, saying nothing, and started down the hall. 'Ask your mother for the money,' he called to her and went down the hall to the bathroom. While he was washing his hands, he heard the front door slam.
Back in the kitchen, Paola was busy setting the table, but only for three. 'Where's Raffi?' Brunetti asked.
'He's got an oral exam this afternoon, so he's spending the day in the library'
'What's he going to eat?'
'He'll get some sandwiches somewhere.'
'If he's got an exam, he should have a good meal first.'
She looked across the room at him and shook her head.
'What? ’ he asked. 'Nothing.'
'No, tell me. What are you shaking your head for?'
'I wonder, at times, how it was I married such an ordinary man.'
'Ordinary?' Of all the insults Paola had hurled at him over the years, this one somehow seemed the worst. 'Ordinary?' he repeated.
She hesitated for a moment, then launched herself into an explanation. 'First you try to blackmail your daughter into going out to buy wine she doesn't drink, and then you worry that your son doesn't eat. Not that he doesn't study, but that he doesn't eat.'
'What should I worry about if not that?'
'That he doesn't study,' Paola shot back.
'He hasn't done anything but study for the last year, that and moon about the house, thinking about Sara.'
'What's Sara got to do with it?'
What did any of this, Brunetti wondered, have to do with it.
'What did Chiara say?' he asked.
'That she offered to go if you'd go with her, but you refused.'
'If I had wanted to go, I would have gone myself.'
'You're always saying you don't have enough time to spend with the children, and when you get the chance, you don't want to.'
'Going to a bar to buy a bottle of wine isn't exactly how I want to spend time with my children. ’
'What is, sitting around the table and explaining to them the way money gives people power?'
'Paola,' he said, enunciating all three of the syllables slowly, 'I have no idea what any of this is about, but I'm fairly sure it doesn't have anything to do with sending Chiara to the store.'
She shrugged and turned back to the large pot that was boiling on the stove.
'What is it, Paola?' he asked, staying where he was but reaching out to her with his voice.
She shrugged again.
Tell me, Paola. Please.'
She kept her back to him and spoke in a soft voice. 'I'm b eginning to feel old, Guido. Raff i's got a girlfriend, and Chiara's almost a woman. I ’ ll be fifty soon. ’ He marvelled at her maths but said nothing. 'I know it's stupid, but I find it depressing, as if my life were all used up, the best part gone.' Good L ord, and she called him ordinary?
He waited, but it seemed she had finished.
She took the lid off the pot and was, for a moment, enveloped in the cloud of steam that spilled up from it. She took a long wooden spoon and stirred at whatever was in the pot, managing to
'Because I want Dolcetto, sweetie.' ‘I’ll go if you'll come with me.' 'But then I might as well go by myself.' 'If you want to do that, then just go, Papa.' 'I don't want to go, Chiara. That's why I'm asking you to go for me.'
'But why should I go?'
'Because I work hard to support you all.'
'Mamma works, too.'
'Yes, but my money pays for the house and everything we buy for it.'
She set her book face down on the bed. 'Mamma says that's capitalistic blackmail and I don't have to listen to you when you do it ’
'Chiara,' he said, speaking very softly, 'your mother is a troublemaker, a malcontent, and an agitator.'
'Then how come you always tell me I have to do what she says? ’
He took a very deep breath. Seeing that, Chiara slid
to the edge of the bed and fished for her shoes with her toes. 'How many bottles do you want?' she asked truculently. 'Three.'
She bent down and tied her shoes. Brunetti reached out a hand and caressed her head, but she pulled herself to one side to avoid him. When her shoes were tied, she stood and snatched her jacket up from the floor. She walked past him, saying nothing, and started down the hall. 'Ask your mother for the money,' he called to her and went down the hall to the bathroom. While he was washing his hands, he heard the front door slam.
Back in the kitchen, Paola was busy setting the table, but only for three. 'Where's Raffi?' Brunetti asked.
'He's got an oral exam this afternoon, so he's spending the day in the library'
'What's he going to eat?'
'He'll get some sandwiches somewhere.'
'If he's got an exam, he should have a good meal first.'
She looked across the room at him and shook her head.
'What? ’ he asked. 'Nothing.'
'No, tell me. What are you shaking your head for?'
'I wonder, at times, how it was I married such an ordinary man.'
'Ordinary?' Of all the insults Paola had hurled at him over the years, this one somehow seemed the worst. 'Ordinary?' he repeated.
She hesitated for a moment, then launched herself into an explanation. 'First you try to blackmail your daughter into going out to buy wine she doesn't drink, and then you worry that your son doesn't eat. Not that he doesn't study, but that he doesn't eat.'
'What should I worry about if not that?'
'That he doesn't study,' Paola shot back.
'He hasn't done anything but study for the last year, that and moon about the house, thinking about Sara.'
'What's Sara got to do with it?'
What did any of this, Brunetti wondered, have to do with it.
'What did Chiara say?' he asked.
'That she offered to go if you'd go with her, but you refused.'
'If I had wanted to go, I would have gone myself.'
'You're always saying you don't have enough time to spend with the children, and when you get the chance, you don't want to.'
'Going to a bar to buy a bottle of wine isn't exactly how I want to spend time with my children. ’
'What is, sitting around the table and explaining to them the way money gives people power?'
'Paola,' he said, enunciating all three of the syllables slowly, 'I have no idea what any of this is about, but I'm fairly sure it doesn't have anything to do with sending Chiara to the store.'
She shrugged and turned back to the large pot that was boiling on the stove.
'What is it, Paola?' he asked, staying where he was but reaching out to her with his voice.
She shrugged again.
Tell me, Paola. Please.'
She kept her back to him and spoke in a soft voice. 'I'm b eginning to feel old, Guido. Raff i's got a girlfriend, and Chiara's almost a woman. I ’ ll be fifty soon. ’ He marvelled at her maths but said nothing. 'I know it's stupid, but I find it depressing, as if my life were all used up, the best part gone.' Good L ord, and she called him ordinary?
He waited, but it seemed she had finished.
She took the lid off the pot and was, for a moment, enveloped in the cloud of steam that spilled up from it. She took a long wooden spoon and stirred at whatever was in the pot, managing to
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