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couldn’t understand how Mamma was always so forgiving. If she were Sofia’s mother she’d . . . she’d . . .
    God help her if she ever had a child like Sofia. Which she wouldn’t, because she was never going to marry. What did she need with children, anyway? Her experience with Sofia had stifled all maternal longings.
    There was a knock on the door. It was Aunt Francesca. “Are you ever going to let us in?”
    Lucy helped Mamma to standing. “Enter,” she said. “Welcome to our new home.”

    Mamma and Aunt Francesca stood in full embrace, sobbing. “When will I ever see you again?” Aunt said.
    Mamma murmured something in her ear. Yet the truth was, this might be a final good-bye. America was a vast place, not easily traversed.
    Lucy had already said her good-byes to her uncle and aunt. Feeling the strength of her uncle’s arms reminded her of her father’s embrace. Although Uncle Aldo had never taken her father’s place, his very presence had eased her father’s passing.
    And now Uncle would be gone too. They would be three women, alone. The idea frightened her, yet offered an odd exhilaration at the challenge.
    Angelo cleared his throat to get her attention. He stood at the door, hat in hand. Although Lucy had done her best to avoid any private contact, such evasion could not be continued. He’d taken much time and effort to help them. He deserved her thanks.
    As she walked toward him, he surprised her by drawing her out of the apartment to the landing at the top of the stairs. “Well, then,” he said. “You’re settled.”
    “Thanks to you, and to your father’s cart. Please thank him for me.”
    He nodded, then looked past her to the apartment. “It’s a large place, much better than the last.”
    Lucy suddenly worried that his compliment was a prequel to the suggestion they get back together, marry, and he move in. Her thoughts rushed to this conclusion, and she offered an awkward answer that was wanting in subtlety. “If you’re wanting to move in here with us, Angelo, I apologize for giving you the wrong impression. I—”
    He leaned his head back in full laughter. “You think I helped you because I still want to marry you?”
    Lucy was horrified. “No, of course not, but . . .”
    “Four years have passed, Lucy. Although I admit you hurt me, I’ve moved along with my life.” He nodded toward the apartment. “You have done the same. I am happy to see you happy.”
    She hated the thought that he’d gotten over her. “Are you happy?” she asked him.
    “I am happy. And married,” he said. “With a son and a daughter.”
    Lucy’s legs faltered enough to make the stairway a danger.
    Angelo righted her with a hand. “I thought you knew.”
    She was suddenly angry and slapped his hand away. “How would I know? I haven’t heard from you in all this time.”
    “And I’ve heard from you?” he asked. “Not until you needed my father’s cart and another set of strong arms. Not that I mind, but . . .”
    She felt the fool. Not for being ignorant of Angelo’s marriage and children, but for thinking he would still be interested in her after all these years.
    Lucy tried to regain her dignity. She set her chin and extended her hand to him. “Thank you very much for your services today, Angelo. My family appreciates your special effort.”
    “It’s not your family I care about,” he said softly. “I did it for you, Lucy. And if you ever need me again, please ask.”
    With that said, he kissed her cheek before rushing down the stairs and onto the street. Once more Angelo became a sweet memory and Lucy chided herself for opening her heart and mind to romance for even a moment.
    Uncle Aldo and Aunt Francesca came to the door to leave. Each gave her one last embrace and kiss good-bye before they too descended the stairs.
    Lucy heard Mamma’s soft cries and entered the apartment. The click of the door behind gained special meaning.
    “We’re all alone!” Mamma