Silence Is Golden Read Free Page B

ahead. “My name’s Emilia. I just moved here, and I was wondering if by any chance you need a little help in the store.”
    She turns away from me and doesn’t answer, instead addressing the man.
    “Thank you, Marco. I’ll figure it out.”
    He nods and walks away. The woman sits in the chair behind the counter and eyes me suspiciously.
    “Actually, I don’t need any help,” she says, finally answering my question. “I’m doing just fine on my own, thanks.”
    But I can’t give up that easily.
    “I could keep the books in order. I could dust—or you could perhaps consider any other needs you might have?”
    “I handle the books, and a woman comes every day to clean, so . . .”
    Perhaps this woman has a different concept of “cleaning” than I do. Just as I’m about to accept defeat, she gets up and opens the box that the young man brought in. There’s a computer inside.
    “Damn, it’s so heavy!” she exclaims, trying to lift it out.
    I go over to help, and she gives me a skeptical look.
    “If you need a hand . . . ,” I venture.
    She looks at me for a moment, and then nods, clearly annoyed. Together, we pull a heavily used desktop computer out of the box. Where the hell is she going to put it? I pull some cables out of the box and confidently say, “I’m great with computers.”
    She sighs, and I begin to hope.
    “Really? You know how to use a computer?”
    “Yeah, really well.” I’m willing to bet that even if the only thing I knew about computers was how to turn them on, it’d be a whole lot more than she knows.
    “I’m not sure,” she muses. “It can’t be that hard. It’s all about learning as you go.”
    My expression is doubtful, but I remain silent. She turns the cables over in her hands. “What is all this stuff? Just one plug wasn’t enough?”
    I laugh to myself.
    “Look, miss,” she says, sitting back down behind the counter. “I can’t promise anything right now. I need to think about it. Anyway, I can’t pay much. As you can see, the business isn’t doing too well.”
    “That wouldn’t be a problem for me at all,” I answer sincerely. “Can I leave you my cell phone number?”
    She hands me a piece of paper and a pen, and I write down my name and number. She takes it and reads aloud. “Emilia Russo, who comes from the South.”
    “Yes,” I answer emphatically.
    She smiles, surprising me. “I once had a boyfriend who had the same last name. He was from Naples. Are you?”
    “No, I’m not.”
    Her smile disappears.
    “That’s too bad. Beautiful place.”
    Perhaps I should learn to fib.
    She looks back at her book, then says without glancing up, “Maybe you’ll hear from me.”
    “Thank you, Miss . . .”
    “Kohler. Helga Kohler.”
    I nod and smile. “Okay, bye then,” I say, exiting. She responds with a nod, just as the young man did earlier. Apparently, people around here aren’t too happy.

CHAPTER FOUR
    It’s early on a sunny September morning, and I throw open the windows to let in some fresh air. I found a mop and bucket here, so today I’m going to clean the house and make it shine. I start by shaking out the two rugs in the courtyard and then sweep the floors. I clean the furniture with a rag and some soap, then carefully wash the bathroom. I pay special attention to the beautiful enamel bathtub, because a long, hot bath awaits when I’m done cleaning. I vigorously scrub the kitchen table and the oven. Then I empty the cabinets and clean each of them thoroughly. I wash all the dishes and pots and even clean the cans of tea and sugar. I then set to the windows with a big bucket of soapy water. The large window in the living room proves a challenge at first, but in the end, even that is shining. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s cleaning a house.
    Eventually I find myself wandering through the rooms, breathing in their clean scent. But instead of feeling satisfied, I feel as though none of this makes sense. What am I doing