Small Blessings

Chapter 8

December 25, 2019

"And don't try lying to me, either," Aoibheann (Pronounced: "Ay-Veen") ordered in no uncertain terms. "Tell me what is going on or I swear to G-"

"Aoibheann!" a black-haired woman called out as she entered the kitchen animatedly. Her skin was wrinkled and olive-toned, and her eyes were awash in familial affection. "Oh my goodness, you're here, Piccolina! I've missed you so. It's been too long."

Wrapping her thin arms around Aoibheann, her little tirade was cut short. I was about to exhale a sigh of relief, (I thought I was momentarily saved), but my retreat was short-lived.

My burner cell began to chirp in my pocket as the baker's wife pulled back from Aoibheann. Frowning, because a call on this line meant something was wrong, I walked behind the large kitchen freezer on our right to take the call out of earshot.

"Hello," I answered quietly, surprised to hear Agent Cooper's voice instead of Tyler's. As I listened, answering questions as Aoibheann and her old friends caught up, I couldn't help but notice how much they adored her. It was obvious in the way they were fawning all over her.

The information passed along, I ended my call and put my cell phone in my pocket before jumping back into the conversation around me.

"Of course you have time for some coffee, Mia Cara, come on," our gracious hostess directed us. "Let's go into the parlour. I'll make you a little espresso and we'll share some biscotti."

Aoibheann started to politely decline. I could tell she wasn't getting out of at least a short visit with her friends, though. "Ah-ah, now. You must join us, I insist."

Turning towards me, the woman grabbed my arm and tugged me along. She may have appeared frail, but her grip was a vice that rivaled steel and I found myself moving forward just to keep up with my arm. "You too, mio Amore," she laughed affectionately, "let's go."

Moving down the hall, and off towards the extremity of the duplex, we entered the bakers' living quarters where a small parlour awaited us, a vision of splendor unfolding before our eyes.

The room was humble and the décor well-loved. A small velvet throw was thrown across the back of the couch. Small cherubs surrounded in gold, red and green danced in gleeful abandon on the tapestry and I found myself smiling despite the growing anxiety mounting behind my eyes.

The assassins were sure to still be out there, and now the phone call, to say nothing of how Aoibheann was going to react to everything going on.

And yet...

And yet I couldn't help feel at home in this cozy, little family room where a yule log was burning in a small fireplace in the corner of the room. A Charlie Brown tree christened the side table beside their armchair. Like an old song, stockings were carefully hung by the fire; Saint Nick had indeed been there.

In short order, I was introduced.

Mr. and Mrs. Ferrari, who came to the United States some 70-some years ago, met, fell in love and had 5 children between them. Coming from a family of blacksmiths, Mr. Ferrari found himself better-suited for baking and commenced to open shop in this small village of New York where they've lived ever since their wedding 74 years ago.

75 years together!

It blew my mind. In a world in which more than half of those married ended up divorced, seeing these two, still holding hands and smiling love towards one another, was enchanting. I couldn't help lean towards Aoibheann when I looked over at her.

There was just something about her.

Not even a full 12 hours together, and here I was drooling all over her like a love-sick puppy.