Page 63 of A Scottish Teashop in Napoli

And this same flower that smiles today

Tomorrow will be dying.

Chapter Fifteen

Lucy leaned back in her chair and looked around the dinner table, soaking up the sounds, the aromas and the warm ambience.

It was no good denying it; she had lost her heart to thebel paese– and she was not referring to the cheese, though she did love that too.

Even on this sad day of remembrance there was plenty of laughter between the tears, as the family shared amusing stories about Giancarlo and his mother Maria.

Waving her fork tightly wrapped in glistening pasta, Elena chortled, ‘I’ll never forget arriving at the cloister on our wedding day, to find Maria sweeping the red carpet!’

Alfonso smiled and waggled his wrist. ‘She was always cleaning. Drove me crazy.’

Elena stifled a giggle. ‘And Giancarlo put his arm around her and said, “Mamma,punto e basta.Enough is enough.”’

‘Mio Dio!’Alfonso shook his head. ‘She finally sat down, holding that bloody broom until the end of the ceremony.’

They all laughed so hard, they didn’t notice Dario standing in the doorway, smiling ear to ear, holding a large cardboard box. ‘Buonasera.’

Alfonso rose from his seat. ‘Dario!Benvenuto!’ Reaching inside the fridge, he offered him a cold beer.

Placing the box carefully on the floor, Dario loosened his tie and flipped the top off the bottle. ‘Salute!’

Everyone jumped simultaneously as the lid of the box suddenly moved. Conversation stopped. Elena, Lucy and Alfonso exchanged a knowing smile.

Dario placed his beer on the table, crouched down and beckoned Stefano over. ‘Stefano, this box has your name on it.’

The boy’s cartoonishly large eyes grew wide, as he made his cautious approach.

Kneeling next to Dario, he gingerly lifted the lid and put his hands inside.

Dario whispered in his ear. ‘Slowly, slowly.’

There was a simultaneous squeal of delight and a bark, as Stefano scooped up the black and tan, snipped and clipped one-eyed mongrel, which immediately started licking his face.

Sniffles, quiet sobs and laughter reverberated around the room, as everyone’s gaze was captured by the sight of this little boy, who had suffered so much heartache, now popping with excitement, hugging his new canine buddy.

Gleefully rubbing his wet cheeks, Stefano turned to Dario. ‘Does he have a name?’

‘No. You can decide what to call him and then have his name and Mamma’s or my phone number engraved on the tag here, in case he gets lost again.’

Without hesitation, Stefano declared, ‘Harry. His name is Harry.’

Alfonso’s brows drew close together. ‘Harry? Harry is an English name, no?’

Stefano shrugged. ‘Sì,Nonno. He is an English dog.’

Alfonso bit back a smile and nodded sagely. ‘Aah.’ Taking ahuge, red handkerchief from his pocket, he then wiped his blurry eyes and gave his nose a blow that could warn shipping.

Everyone erupted into uncontrollable laughter.

‘You will need to train him,’ said Dario.

Bang on cue, Harry started haring around the room, knocking over a small table, then promptly peed on the floor.

It was the first Sunday of Advent, and with the factory closed, Lucy was seizing the opportunity to prepare the teashop for the busy Christmas season.