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giorno ,signora Sarah.” The warmth in his voice made her smile.
    “Ciao. And buon giorno to you too.” She was amazed at how comfortable she felt talking to this kind man. “Give me ten minutes?”
    When the elevator doors opened, she walked into the bright foyer. As she approached, Pietro rose from the leather sofa. He put down the newspaper he had been reading, and walked toward her. His gaze quickly, but not offensively, scanned her up and down, seeming to approve of her colorful sundress and sandals. Then his eyes locked onto hers.
    He looked different today. Clean shaven and dressed in cargo shorts that reached to his knees and a navy blue Polo shirt, he looked younger—more handsome.
    “Have you had breakfast yet?”
    “No, I slept in. I could really use some coffee.”
    “Ah, that is exactly what I was hoping you would say.” He took her elbow and guided her outside into the brilliant sunshine. They walked through narrow, white-walled lanes. Masses of flowers tumbled out of hanging baskets; purple, magenta, pink and orange bougainvillea ran along the tops of the walls, sometimes their long tendrils reaching down low, causing them to duck to get past their sharp thorns without injury. They passed several shrines to the Virgin Mary, statues with little vases of fresh flowers and other tokens of supplication. After about twenty minutes, they entered the small square of La Piazzetta, where early morning crowds filled the cafés and gathered in groups, chatting and laughing.
    Strolling toward one of the cafés, Pietro signaled to the waiter that they wished to sit outside under the shade of the white awning. “We will catch the breeze out here.”
    A man in a white maître’d uniform came over and warmly greeted Pietro, clamping his hands on Pietro’s shoulders, and kissing both cheeks. They spoke in rapid Italian, obviously pleased to see each other. Pietro turned and indicated Sarah.
    “Gianni, please meet Sarah. She is from Australia.”
    She stood up, holding out her hand, but Gianni grabbed her in a bear hug and planted two wet kisses on her cheeks.
    “ Ciao, bella. Buon giorno ! ”
    “Ciao.” She smiled, thinking to herself that she really had to learn more than five Italian words if she was to stay here.
    Gianni turned back to Pietro, clapped him on the shoulder, and turned to leave.
    Pietro sat down. He looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, but I know everyone in Capri. It sometimes gets in the way.” He shrugged, holding his hands out, palms facing upward.
    “You know, I came here precisely because I don’t know anyone. But I’m more than happy to have made a friend so quickly.” The words slipped out before she had time to consider them. “I was quite nervous about coming here, not being able to speak the language, and—well—just getting on with my plans.”
    “And, what are your plans?” The coffee arrived, followed by freshly baked panini with little pots of butter, jam, and honey. Next, a bowl of diced fruit salad was laid on the table. They dived into the breakfast. When they were both sipping their second cup of coffee, she spoke.
    “To be quite frank, I’m a bit thrown by the change of circumstances here. You see, your grandmother told me in her letters that she was planning to go away for a while—I assumed to the mainland or something like that. She asked me if I would promise to stay for one year, and to look after her cats as if they were my own. I readily agreed. You see…” She paused, realizing her voice was beginning to show the emotion she felt. “I’ve recently been widowed.”
    He reached over and placed his hand on hers as it rested on the blue and white check tablecloth. Her vision was blurry, and her face warming with color, but when she looked up into his warm eyes, they glistened with moisture.
    “ Mi dispiace! I am so sorry.” His voice was gentle, soothing. He reached over and gently used his thumb to wipe away a rogue tear that had started falling down her