The Don's Property
It’s a deep, rustic red, glistening with a swirl of green-gold olive oil and fresh basil.
“What’s this?” I ask, tilting my head
“It’s Pappa al Pomodoro. Velina made it specially for you.” Diana sits down at the edge. “She told me to make sure you finish it.”
My lips pull into a curve. “I sure will.”
I dig into the food, watching Diana from my peripheral. Her mouth opens, and close her mouth, then her lips pull into a thin line. Her hands keep folding and unfolding on her lap. She’s practically vibrating with unsaid words.
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