7
Rome, 1952
“I’m worried they won’t like me,” Ruby said, biting her lip. They were just outside the door to the building that Niccolò and his family lived in. He’d invited her for dinner, and they were to help cook.
“They’re going to love you. You’re an American principessa,” Niccolò added, kissing the tip of her nose.
Ruby followed him up a staircase that opened into a second level flat, where a delicious aroma wafted through the door when he opened it. Opera music from a record player filled the air.
Niccolò called out to his parents while Ruby took in her surroundings. Late afternoon sunlight poured through tall windows draped with burgundy velvet and caught with gold-threaded ropes and tassels that reached the wooden floors. Low-slung sofas and upholstered chairs gathered around
