The Shoemaker's Wife (66 page)

Enza did something she had not done in years. She opened Ciro’s drawer in the dresser, the one she hadn’t had the heart to empty when he died many years ago. Now, though, she felt lucky. Antonio was home safely, and he’d married a wonderful girl. Enza felt Ciro would be proud of her; she had done a good job raising their son alone and honored his memory by always doing her best for their family. She took in the lingering scent of cedar and lemon that still permeated the cover of her husband’s missal and his leather belt. She opened the leather pouch of tobacco, and inhaled the sweet remainder of the leaves, remembering Ciro’s face when he smiled and squinted at her through the puffs of smoke.

Enza sorted Ciro’s socks, and held the leather belt, which had been wrapped neatly into a coil. She pulled out the small calfksin sleeve that contained his honorable discharge papers, which he had carried in his pocket every day of his life, as if to say,
See how much I loved this
country?
As if anyone would have ever doubted it.

Enza placed his passport on the dresser top. She lifted out the prayer missal that Eduardo had given to Ciro when they were parted as young men. Enza had carried it on her wedding day, and remembered how heavy it felt in her hands. She found a photograph of the Latinis and the Lazzaris tucked inside, taken by Longyear Lake when the children were small. How young Pappina looked, and how happy Luigi was as he held baby Angela!

Enza also removed a photograph from her own wedding day, to give to Angela and Antonio as a gift. She looked at her stern young face in the photograph and wondered why she had been so serious. After all, it was the happiest moment of her life. If only she had been giddy with possibility instead of worried about all the things that might go wrong! She saw, as she looked back, that there would have been no stopping the terrible things that happened to them, any more than there was a way to contain all the joy they had known.

Enza looked at Ciro’s face, and wondered how she had managed to marry a man so beautiful. His sandy hair, obvious even in sepia, was thick and wavy, as it was until the day he died. His straight nose and full lips fit beautifully with her own, as if it was fated that they would become one.

She missed her husband’s kisses most of all.

Enza was about to close the drawer when she saw something shimmering at the bottom of the drawer, in a small cup where Ciro kept extra bolts and screws for the machines in the shop. An unused penny stamp peeked out of the cup. Enza pulled the small cup from the drawer.

She emptied the contents onto the bedspread. An ivory collar stay, a few screws, a bobbin, a couple of buttons, and, finally, a gold coin tumbled out. Enza picked it up, taking the coin to the bedside lamp to examine it.

It was the coin Enrico Caruso had given her on the closing night of
Lodoletta.
When Antonio was a boy, Enza had allowed him to hold it, and, when times were tough, she’d thought about selling it. But she needed one thing to remind her of where she came from and who she once knew, so she kept it, just as Caterina had held on to that blue cameo. Enza placed the coin on the nightstand next to the photograph, thinking Antonio would be thrilled to have it as part of his wedding gift. She twisted the gold ring Ciro had placed on her hand so many years ago on the day they were married. She had never taken it off. Enza remembered Ciro’s words:
Beware the things of this world that can mean everything or nothing.

Love.

Gold.

Somehow, Ciro had managed to give Enza both, but the love had been the everything.

Acknowledgments

I
had long been enchanted by my grandparents’ love story. Lucia Spada and Carlo Bonicelli were from villages in the Italian Alps five miles apart, but they met for the first time in Hoboken, New Jersey. This novel is being published during the 100th anniversary year of Carlo Bonicelli’s immigration. He arrived in New York City from Le Havre, France, on the S.S.
Chicago
on February 19, 1912. Imagine my elation when I first visited their villages on the mountain where they were born.

My great uncle, Monsignor Don Andrea Spada, was the first person to show me the Pizzo Camino. I took in the snow-capped peaks and the Italian sky, which was so blue that I still look for the exact shade of it everywhere, in fabric swatches, on walls, and in books. Don Andrea was my grandmother Lucia Bonicelli’s baby brother. He was born in 1908 to a big, hardworking family. He left the mountain to be educated and was ordained a priest in 1931. He became a respected and renowned journalist in Italy, where his worldview was focused through a prism of compassion and a firsthand knowledge of what it meant to be poor. He returned to the mountain and Bergamo as soon as he could. He was editor of the
L’Eco di Bergamo
newspaper for fifty-one years. He was a
padrone
of language like no other. His newspaper articles were specific, clear, and truthful; his headlines plain and direct. He went on to write glorious books of power and scope. He died in Schilpario at the age of ninety-six in the house where he was born, in the shadow of the mountain he loved.

I am grateful to be published by HarperCollins, led by the great Brian Murray and my champion, Michael Morrison. Jonathan Burnham is a publisher with exquisite taste and clear vision. He encouraged me to write this novel, and gave me the best tools to do the job. He is also good-looking and British, two of my favorite food groups.

My beloved editor, Lee Boudreaux, has skill and heart, a rare combination. This is our thirteenth book together and I don’t know what I would do without her. She is gentle and strong, and so gifted. Abigail Holstein is a treasure, and takes care of the details effortlessly. I am indebted also to the great marketing team led by the razor-sharp Kathy Schneider, including Leah Wasielewski, Mark Ferguson, Katie O’Callaghan, Danielle Plafsky, and Tom Hopke, Jr.

The Harper publicity team gets the word out beautifully: thank you, Tina Andreadis, (Greek girls rule), Kate Blum, (the best), Sydney Sherman, Alberto Rojas, Joseph Papa, and Jamie Brickhouse (yes, Jamie I will go . . . there). Thank you, Camille McDuffy and Grace McQuade. Virginia Stanley, queen of the libraries, never fails me. My gratitude also to Kayleigh George and Annie Mazes.

The sparkling design and production group, who created this glorious cover art and interior design, includes Amanda Kain, Robin Biardello, Cindy Achar, Lydia Weaver, Miranda Ottewell, Leah Carlson-Stanisic, and Eric Levy. The team who gets the books into your hands via sales includes the fabulous Josh Marwell, Andrea Rosen, Jeanette Zwart, Doug Jones, Carla Clifford, Kristin Bowers, Brian Grogan, Jeff Rogart, Mark Hillesheim, Caitlin Rollfes, Erin Gorham, and Diane Jackson. Thank you, Amy Baker, Erica Barmash, Regina Eckes, and Jennifer Hart (who goes the extra five miles).

At William Morris Endeavor, thank you and my love always to the gamine powerhouse: Suzanne Gluck. The gamine’s team is the best: Caroline Donofrio, Eve Attermann, and Becca Kaplan. I adore Nancy Josephson, who has been in my life as long as my sisters, reads as soon as she gets a draft, and provides unconditional support when it’s most needed. Alicia Gordon drives the movie bus splendidly.

Thank you and love to: Sarah Ceglarski, Shekar Sathyanarayana, Erin Malone, Tracy Fisher, Pauline Post, Eugenie Furniss: (the elegant duchess), Claudia Webb, Cathryn Summerhayes, Becky Thomas, Jamie Quiroz, Raffaella de Angelis, Amanda Krentzman (Global), Graham Taylor, Casey Carroll, Michelle Bohan, Matt Smith, Juliet Barrack, Stephanie Ward, Ellen Sushko, Joe Austin, Carrie Brody, Sarah Ceglarksi, Jessica Lubben, Natalie Hayden, Philip Grenz, Arielle Datz, and Brandon Guzman.

In Movieland, thank you to the brilliant producer Larry Sanitsky, Claude Chung and the team at the Sanitsky Company. My love and thanks to Lou Pitt and Michael Pitt. I will be ever grateful to Ann Godoff for opening the door to my literary career. Thank you to the fabulous Jackie Levin who has been so kind to me over the years.

At Simon and Schuster UK, my love to my publisher, Ian Chapman, my divine editor, Suzanne Baboneau, and the irreplaceable, unforgettable Nigel Stoneman.

Thank you, Allison Van Groesbeck (you’re a star); Kelly Meehan (so talented and now engaged!); Antonia Trigiani, queen of the gift shop; Gina Casella, our fearless leader and fabulous president of our tours; Nikki Padilla, who leads the walking tours with panache and style.

My love and gratitude to Jake and Jean Morrissey, Mary Murphy, Gail Berman, Debra McGuire, Cate Magennis Wyatt, Nancy Bolmeier Fisher, Carol and Dominic Vechiarelli, Jim and Mary Deese Hampton, Suzanne and Peter Walsh, Heather and Peter Rooney, Ian Moffitt, Anne Weintraub, Gene Stein, Aaron Hill and Susan Fales-Hill, Kate Benton Doughan and Jim Doughan, Ruth Pomerance and Rafael Prieto, Joanna Patton and Bill Persky, Angelina Fiordellisi and Matt Williams, Michael La Hart and F. Todd Johnson, Richard and Dana Kirshenbaum, Hugh and Jody Friedman O’Neill, Rosalie Ciardullo, Dolores and Dr. Emil Pascarelli, Sharon Hall, Mary Ellen Gallagher Gavin, Rosanne Cash, Liz Welch Tirell, Rachel Cohen DeSario, Charles Randolph Wright, Constance Marks, Mario Cantone and Jerry Dixon; Nancy Ringham Smith, Sharon Watroba Burns, Dee Emmerson, Elaine Martinelli, Kitty Martinelli (Vi and the girls), Sally Davies, Sister Karol Jackowski, Jane Cline Higgins, Beth Vechiarelli Cooper (my Youngstown boss), Max and Robyn Westler, John Searles, Robin Kall, Gina Vechiarelli, Barbara and Tom Sullivan, Brownie and Connie Polly, Catherine Brennan, Joe O’Brien, Greg D’Alessandro, Jena and Charlie Corsello, Karen Fink, Beata and Steven (the Warrior) Baker, Todd Doughty and Randy Losapio, Craig Fisse, Anemone and Steve Kaplan, Christina Avis Krauss and her Sonny, Joanne Curley Kerner, Bina Valenzano, Christine Freglette, Veronica Kilcullen, Lisa Rykoski, and Iva Lou Johnson. Cousin Evangeline “Eva” Palermo, wife, mother, and teacher, turned ninety as I wrote this book, and if you want to be an active, amazing ninety-year-old, check out my cousin Eva.

Thank you Michael Patrick King, the chairman of my mental health board. Thank you for being true and being you. Cynthia Rutledge Olson, I’m putting in an 800 number so people can call you with their problems worldwide. You will have help: Mary Testa can run the switchboard, while Wendy Luck passes out pamphlets; thank you both. Thank you Elena Nachmanoff and Dianne Festa, my honorary sisters.

Many months of research went into the history woven through this book. I am indebted to the experts who guided the process and did the heavy lifting. Thank you

Anthony Tamburri and Joseph Sciorra of the Calandra Institute, experts in Italian American history including life in Little Italy and turn-of-the-century immigration. My dear friend Betsy Brazis was generous, specific, and selflessly on call for her knowledge of the Iron Range. My mother, Ida, as always, gave priceless insight into life with her parents in Chisholm.

My gratitude to Nadia Sammarco for her insight into the Metropolitan Opera in New York City; Richie Sammarco for his memories of the opera; the (divine) Sisters of the RSCJ (
Religieuses de Sacre Coeur de Jesus
), including Sister Angela Bayo, Sister Judy Garson, and Sister Maura Keleher, Susan Burke-O’Neal at the Convent of the Sacred Heart; archivist John Pennino at the Metropolitan Opera; Andrea Spolti, my cousin an expert of all things Schilpario; and the great writer/editor Veda Ponikvar of
The Chisholm Tribune-Press
, Chisholm, Minnesota.

Samantha Rowe did an amazing job with the history of the Milbank House, Otto Kahn, and James Burden mansions, Ellis Island, and life at the turn of the last century. Luca Delbello researched use of language and currency. The Italian translations in the text were provided by Professor Dorina Cereghino.

During the final phases of writing this book, I lost some dear friends and family that I hope to honor here. Michele O’Callaghan Togneri, Tommy’s beloved wife, was a total original. She was a wonderful mother to Julia, T.J., and Mia. Tommy told me that my books were always on Michele’s nightstand. She will always be in my heart. My cousin Cathy Peters was a fabulous wife to Joe and mother to Lauren and Joey; Rebecca Wright Long from Big Stone Gap was my honorary sister (along with her sister Theresa Bledsoe), and would drive hours to come to a reading; she was also a beautiful wife to Stephen and mother to Adam and Christina. The great Theo Barnes, actor, playwright, and director began his career at the Judson Poets Theater, and when I moved to New York he took me under his wing and shared his every talent to encourage mine. Abner “Abbey” Zalaznick was a wonderful husband and father who took such delight in the world it was infectious. Lily Badger, our daughter’s classmate at Chelsea Day School was a beautiful girl, along with her sisters Grace and Sarah. Madonna and Matthew are their loving parents, and we will never forget their three beauties.

It is fitting that many of the names in this novel came from donations made to the good nuns at the Caroline House in Connecticut. They do all manner of good works for immigrants; most important, they teach them to read and write English. My grandparents would be thrilled that elements of their story were woven with the current generation of immigrants. In that spirit, I’d like to thank my family, all of us descendents of strong, hardworking immigrants with big dreams.

Finally, on the dedication page, Don Andrea Spada, signed the photograph of himself, taken in the seminary in 1930. He wrote to my grandmother Lucia:
For my dear sister in America with my immense affection always.
He was able to visit his sister in America many times over the years, which thrilled her. When we visited him on the mountain fifty years later, the walls of the family home were filled with photographs of us, his family in America. No ocean, country, or war kept the Spada family from remaining close and connected. The love was always there and it endures evermore, just like the mountain.

About the Author

A
DRIANA
T
RIGIANI
is an award-winning playwright, television writer, and documentary filmmaker. The author of the bestselling Big Stone Gap series;
Very Valentine; Brava, Valentine; Lucia, Lucia; The Queen of the Big Time;
and
Rococo
, she has also written the bestselling memoir
Don’t Sing at the Table
as well as the young adult novels
Viola in Reel Life
and
Viola in the Spotlight
. Her books have been published in thirty-six countries around the world. She lives in New York City with her husband and daughter.