As Marco showed her the sights, Lia's nerves relaxed a good bit. She was actually happy he'd ended up at her table. Seeing Palermo with someone so familiar and enthusiastic about the city made it so much more fun. 

Lia had just finished purchasing a few new scarves when Marco suggested dinner. She could certainly eat, and had been thinking about returning to see more of Palermo...and perhaps Marco. She smiled when he took her hand and led her toward the restaurant. The establishment was absolutely charming--exactly what Lia had pictured Sicily to look like. The older woman reminded her a lot of Nona Carlotta. 

Lia smiled warmly and greeted her in her best Italian. 

"You have a beautiful place here. Do you have a pinot grigio?" 

The older woman nodded and looked to Marco.

"Ah, a bottle please. And two glasses."

Marco leaned back comfortably in his chair, removing a hankerchief with a flourish and dabbing up the few beads of sweat on his forehead before returning it to his pocket.

"So tell me, Lia, was there anything you wanted to see today that your humble tour guide failed to provide to you? And what are you in the mood for regarding our meal?"

"Goodness, I've seen and learned far more than I thought I would today. I really appreciate you showing me around. You are a wonderful tour guide."

Lia grinned, then reached up and untied the scarf from her hair, letting the bouncy, black curls fall behind her back. The older gentleman came by the table with a basket of crusty bread and olive oil with herbs. The aroma was so fresh and authentic. Tearing off a bit of bread, Lia continued with a little grin. 

"I think I'll let you order for me. If you're as good at food as you are at tours, I'm in good hands. Besides, I'm more interested in learning more about you. You've told me everything about Palermo except yourself."

Marco grinned as he closed his menu and spoke his order to the older couple, who were both in earshot. 

"We'll begin with the arincine. Then Panella. Anelletti... and Pasta alla Norma... I suppose that's enough for now."

"And end with cannoli, of course. Oh, and sfingi."

Marco grinned. It was an extravagant amount of food.

"Hope you're hungry. Had any of those before?"

"Only panelle, but I'm sure it will all be wonderful."

The older woman brought glasses and the bottle of wine, pouring both glasses.

"Gratzi, molto bene."

When the elderly woman was back in the kitchen, Lia took a sip of her wine.

"You seem to know the proprietors well. Do you come here often?" 

Marco flashed his pearly whites for a moment before sampling his wine.

"I do. And I am an open book- ask me anything you wish. These two have been feeding me every now and then since I was eight. They still feed me, regardless of whether I have money or not. Tonight, though, I will pay them back for their previous generosity."

He tilted his head.

"Well, some of it. If I were to settle the entire debt I would have to rob a bank- and that is quite a bit bigger than the usual trouble I find myself in."

Lia giggled. 

"You and I sound like we may be kindred spirits."

For the first time since getting to Sicily, Lia realized just how much she hated lying about who she was. Of course, the family knew; but Marco had been the first person she'd actually met. For a moment she considered leveling with him, but then decided she had better not. If someone didn't kill her for it, Paul and Donny would.

"Oh? And how are we kindred spirits?"

He let the question linger as the arancine arrived. They were still hot, and they were delicious. Rice balls covered with bread crumbs, then fried in oil- and these particular ones also continued ragu and mozzarella.

Slicing one open with his fork, Marco dug in; he ate like it had been a long time since his last meal. 

"Oh, just in the way you mention finding yourself in trouble. I suppose you could say I have my share of days like that."

Lia cut her food as she spoke, then chewed her bite. The flavors were unbelievable. She closed her eyes and smiled. 

"Oh my goodness. I've never tasted anything like this. Nona Carlotta is a fantastic cook, but she's at the age where she doesn't like to do it so much, so we often eat at restaurants in town. Nothing I've had so far compares to this, though."

She took another sip of the wine, purposefully taking a moment to really appreciate the atmosphere.

​​​​​​"So tell me about yourself. You mentioned you grew up here; do you have other family here as well?" 

​​​​​​

​​​​​​

"Trouble? You? I don't believe it."

But his smirk suggested he did. 

"Not so much family to speak. The Russos here fed me every now and then, I spent- and spend- time with friends, but no, no family to speak of."

Lia nodded, chewing more of her food. She wasn't one to pry. She always figured that people would offer up what they wanted to. Her next sip of the wine emptied the glass, so she reached for the bottle to pour another glass.

"I have none at home, either. Good friends, and I work for a very good man, but no family around."

Marco's smile widened.

"Ah, here we are. Two young orphans making their way in a harsh, cruel world. But we still eat well, no? And where is 'home', if you don't mind me asking, since it's obviously not here?"

Lia lifted her glass toward him. 

"I'll drink to that."

After another sip, she sat back and put her glass down.

"Near the west coast of the US. It's interestingly not much different there than here as far as weather goes. Hot and dry, miserable when it rains."

Marco's eyes studied her.

"Ah, American. I thought so. All Americans are rich, eh?"

The panella- just a few, so as not to spoil their appetites- was a fritter made of chickpea flour.

At the same time, the anelletti came out- they each had a plate. It was a small tower of small, ringed pasta; as Lia dug into it, the provolone cheese, fried eggplant, and ragu on the interior revealed itself.

"So, what are your other interests, Lia? I need to consider what to plan for our second date, after all."

She almost laughed at the idea of all Americans being rich, but them she paused and considered what she'd seen so far in Sicily in the country. 

"Not all are rich, no, but probably many are more well off than the rural people of Sicily. You find most of the more wealthy in the big cities. New York, Vegas, Chicago."

Again, the dishes were tantalizing. She got so caught up in the complex flavors that she was taken a bit by surprise at his last comment. Lia blushed, grinning. 

​​​​​​"I...I don't know. We saw so much today. But, I would love to find a smaller beach. Mondello is nice, but very crowded, and I didn't get to swim today. I love to swim."

She found herself rather exited that he wanted to see her again. For just a moment, she thought about Gavin. She did miss spending time with him, but in the back of her mind, she knew that he was a wild stallion not looking for a pasture. After all, he'd told her to live her life here. Who knew how long that would be? Smiling, Lia looked at Marco across the table. 

"I'm really glad we met today."

"The beach! Fantastic idea. We shall swim until you are too tired, then lounge on the sand to your heart's content."

Marco reached out and rested his hand on hers, patting it once. He'd already cleared his plate- both plates, actually. 

With her free hand, Lia started to skewer another fork of pasta when the wooden door to the small restaurant flung open. Lia jumped, dropping her fork and looking toward the door.  To her surprise, she saw Donny and Paul. They spotted her and hurried over. 

"Jesus, Lia, there you are. We've been looking for you for an hour." Paul spoke quickly, in English, seeming alarmed. 

Lia put her napkin on the table as Donny took a lap around the dining room.

"What? What's wrong? Is everything ok?" 

Paul looked at her, confused. 

"What? No - I mean, yes, everything is fine. You were supposed to meet Marco and Julia back at the car over an hour ago."

Lia looked at her watch. 

"Oh my god. I am so sorry. I completely lost track of time! Papa Marco must be worried sick."

Donny grabbed Lia's bag and shopping bags. Paul put a hand on her shoulder.

"They're fine, we sent them on back to the winery. But we do need to get going."

He looked at Marco with a slightly scrutinizing gaze, the way he looked at everyone within ten feet of Lia. 

Lia looked back to Marco apologetically. 

"Marco, I'm so sorry. I've... I've had a wonderful time with you. I will be back, I promise. Two days. Meet me here on Sunday. I will make it up to you."

Donny approached the table. 

"Car is here  Street is clear."

​​​​​​

Marco smiled up at the large man, and stood to kiss Lia's hand before she departed.

"For you I would wait two weeks- two months- two years... but you're right, two days sounds much better."

With a grin, he watched her go and return to his meal.

Paul got Lia into the car, then climbed in behind her. Donny patted the hood of the car, then stepped back. The driver nodded and pulled away from the curb. Lia looked back, confused.

"Why isn't Donny coming?" 

"Oh, he's just going to hang back and do some research. You wanna come back, right? We gotta make sure you've got a safe place to stay."

Paul sat back, stretching out his legs.

"So, who's the guy?" 

-----

Donny turned back to the restaurant as the car rolled away with Lia and Paul. Casually, he walked back through the door and chose a table not too far from where Marco was seated. He gave the man a simple nod, then sat down, shedding his suit jacket. 

Marco tucked into the pasta alla norma, still eating like it was his last meal. He looked up and gave a friendly smile to the man who'd sat down near him. Mrs. Russo then came up to the stranger, greeting him and asking what he'd like to drink this evening.