Pino kept up the chase, but then he noticed a pretty girl—black hair, creamy skin, and flashing dark eyes. She was making her way across the piazza, heading toward the Galleria. He skidded to a halt and watched her. Flooded with longing, he was unable to speak.
After she passed, Pino said, “I think I’m falling in love.”
“Falling on your face maybe,” said Carletto, who’d walked up behind him.
Mimo circled back to them. “Someone just said the Allies will be here by Christmas.”
“I want the Americans to come to Milan sooner than that,” Carletto said.
“Me, too,” Pino agreed. “More jazz! Less opera!”
Taking off in a sprint, he leaped over a vacant bench and onto a curved metal railing that protected the statue of da Vinci. He slid neatly on the smooth surface for a short distance before jumping off the other side and landing like a cat.
Never to be outdone, Mimo tried the same trick, but he crashed to the ground in front of a dark-haired, heavyset woman in a floral print dress. She looked to be in her late thirties, early forties. She carried a violin case and wore a broad blue straw hat against the sun.
The woman was so startled she almost dropped her violin case. She clutched it to her bosom angrily as Mimo moaned and held his ribs.
“This is Piazza Della Scala!” she scolded. “Honoring the great Leonardo! Have you no respect? Go and play your childish games somewhere else.”
“You think we’re children?” Mimo said, puffing out his chest. “Little boys?”
The woman looked beyond him and said, “Little boys who do not understand the real games played around them.”
Dark clouds had begun to roll in, dimming the scene. Pino twisted and saw a large black Daimler-Benz staff car rolling down the street that separated the piazza from the opera house. Red Nazi flags flew on either fender. A general’s flag fluttered on the radio antenna. Pino saw the silhouette of the general, sitting ramrod straight in the backseat. For some reason the image gave him the chills.
When Pino turned around, the violinist was already moving away, head up, defiant as she crossed the street behind the Nazi staff car and marched into the opera house.
As the boys moved on, Mimo limped along while rubbing his right hip and complaining. But Pino was barely listening. A tawny-blond woman with slate-blue eyes was coming down the sidewalk right at them. He guessed her to be in her early twenties. She was beautifully put together, with a gentle nose, high cheekbones, and lips that curled naturally into an easy smile. Svelte and of medium height, she wore a yellow summer dress and carried a canvas shopping bag. She turned off the sidewalk and entered a bakery just ahead.
“I’m in love again,” Pino said, both palms over his heart. “Did you see her?”
Carletto snorted. “Don’t you give up?”
“Never,” Pino said, trotting to the bakery window and looking inside.
The woman was stuffing loaves of bread into her bag. He saw she wasn’t wearing a ring on her left hand, so he waited for her to pay and come out.
When she did, he stepped in front of her, put his hand over his heart, and said, “I’m sorry, signorina. I was overcome by your beauty and had to meet you.”
“Listen to you,” she scoffed as she maneuvered around him and kept walking.
As she’d passed, Pino smelled her female-and-jasmine scent. It was intoxicating, like nothing he’d ever smelled before.
He hurried after her, saying, “It is true. I see many beautiful ladies, signorina. I live in the fashion district, San Babila. Many models.”
She gave him a sidelong glance. “San Babila is a very fine place to live.”
“My parents own Le Borsette di Lella, the purse store. Do you know it?”
“My—my employer bought a purse there just last week.”
“Yes?” Pino said, delighted. “So you see I come from a reputable family. Would you like to see a movie with me tonight? You Were Never Lovelier is playing. Fred Astaire. Rita Hayworth. Dancing. Singing. So elegant. Like you, signorina.”
She finally turned her head to look over at him with those piercing eyes. “How old are you?”
“Almost eighteen.”
She laughed. “You’re kind of young for me.”
“It’s just a movie. We go as friends. I am not too young for that, am I?”
She didn’t say anything, just kept on walking.
“Yes? No?” Pino said.
“There’s a blackout tonight.”
“It will still be light when the show starts, and afterward I will walk you home safe and sound,” Pino assured her. “I can see like a cat at night.”
She said nothing for several steps, and Pino’s heart sank.
“Where is this movie playing?” she asked.
Pino gave her the address and said, “You will meet me there, yes? Seven thirty outside the ticket booth?”
“You are kind of funny, and life is short. Why not?”
Pino grinned, put his hand to his chest, and said, “Until then.”
“Until then,” she said. She smiled, then crossed the street.
Pino watched her go, feeling triumphant and breathless until he realized something when she turned to wait for the oncoming street trolley and looked back at him in amusement.
“Signorina, forgive me,” he yelled to her, “but what is your name?”
“Anna,” she called back.
“I am Pino!” he cried. “Pino Lella!”
The trolley screeched to a halt, drowning out his last name and blocking her from his view. When the trolley rolled on, Anna was gone.
“She’ll never come,” said Mimo, who’d been hustling along behind them the entire time. “She just said it to get you to stop following her.”
“Of course she will come,” Pino said, before looking to Carletto, who had also followed them. “You saw it in her eyes, Anna’s eyes, didn’t you?”
Before his brother and his friend could respond, lightning flashed, and the first drops of rain fell, plump and growing fatter. They all began to run.
“I’m going home!” Carletto cried, and veered off.
Chapter Two
The skies opened up. The deluge began. Pino followed Mimo, sprinting toward the fashion district, getting drenched and not caring. Anna was going to the movies with him. She’d said yes. It made him almost delirious.
The brothers were soaked, and lightning was striking by the time they dodged into Valigeria Albanese, Albanese Luggage, their uncle’s store and factory in a rust-colored building at #7 Via Pietro Verri.
Dripping wet, the boys went into the long, narrow shop, which enveloped them with the rich smell of new leather. The shelves were stacked with fine attaché cases, handbags and satchels, suitcases and trunks. The glass displays featured woven leather wallets and beautifully tooled cigarette cases and portfolios. There were two customers in the shop, one an older woman close to the door, and beyond her at the far end, a Nazi officer in a black and gray uniform.
Pino watched him, but heard the older woman say, “Which one, Albert?”
“Go with your heart,” said the man waiting on her behind the counter. Big, barrel-chested, and mustached, he wore a beautiful mouse-gray suit, starched white shirt, and a jaunty blue polka-dot bow tie.