Piazza Bella - Aperitivo: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII
Piazza Bella - Antipasto: I | II | III
Bella touched each knife much the way I stroked mine, sliding each from its pouch with reverence, understanding their value, sentimental and as a tool for her art. She felt the weight of a few, carefully finding a perfect point of balance.
She stared at my Mom, then me, raised both eyebrows, grinning like a cat that got the cream. Tears of joy rolled down her cheeks, and Bella dragged us both onto her shoulders for a raw, beautiful, and loving hug.
“These knives are beautiful and so light, with perfect balance. Thank you, Sarah.”
“They were your Dad’s. He would be thrilled to see you use them.”
“I love having something that was my fathers’. Carla shares his t-shirts with me.”
“I have more at the hotel for you both. Jack has a treasure chest at home, and I never threw away a thing of his. Perhaps when you and Carla visit New York together, you can haul everything out and create memories together.”
“I hadn’t thought of-.”
“You must come to New York, Bella, and bring your husband. Just as you have family here, the Keady clan are your people, and they are numerous.”
“I will… we will come together, right Carla?”
“I’d love to, sister.”
Mom excused herself to make phone calls outside, reassuring our family that she had arrived in Venice, was alive and well, and had greeted our newest family member.
Everyone knew this dinner was a special family occasion, and our Trattoria brigade had pulled out all the stops. The finest porcelain china service and cutlery I ever saw were perfectly set on a brilliant white, boil-washed Irish linen tablecloth Bella had found among her family heirlooms. Emerald green lace trimmed the edges, complimenting her tableware perfectly.