The Lost Art of Second Chances Read Free

R Us—well, not more than plastic body parts and I’ve already got plenty of those. They’ll do in a pinch. But they’re not the same.”
    “That’s what I wish for! A lover!” She muttered before banging her spoon on the pot. Frankie, startled by the unexpected noise, leapt from his spot on the chair and streaked out of the kitchen, past a pair of shiny, polished black loafers.
    Wait. Loafers?

Belladonna
    Ali d’Angelo, Italy
May 1938
    Belladonna Rossi knew, just knew, this was going to be her year. Since before she could remember, she’d wanted nothing more than to be Queen of the May. Each year, the sisters at the Ali d’Angelo primary school selected the most virtuous girl in the village to lead the May procession through the town, honoring the Blessed Mother. After leading the faithful past stunning views of Toscana in the spring, following the life-sized statue of the Blessed Virgin borne by the strongest altar boys, the May Queen crowned the statue, before laying a bouquet of spring blossoms in front of a Renaissance painting of Mary being crowned Queen of the Heaven, standing beneath a blossoming orange tree.
    Bella didn’t possess such lofty goals for herself. She’d take just being queen for a day.
    For all her thirteen years, other village girls donned May crowns of woven roses and jasmine, carrying a matching miniature version on a silk pillow. Her day would come.
    And this was it—finally her year, her turn to be Queen of the May.
    Such an honor would mean she’d get a new dress. Bella knew just the one she wanted, in apple-green, trimmed with white lace, displayed in the window of the Innocentis shop in the village square. Her parents would close up the vineyard for the day and come to stand with the other town elite, mamma ’s golden curls covered with her black lace mantilla, watching the children process. Bella imagined her proud parents, her perpetually exasperated mother gifting her with a rare smile, her stoic father wiping tears of pride from his eyes, her sister turning the color of her new dress with envy. She would school her features into a placid expression as she took the tiny woven crown from her handmaiden and gently place it on the Madonna’s head. She’d carefully place her hawthorn bouquet in front of the ancient painting, her head piously bowed, before leading her fellow students to the pews, songs of praise swelling around them.
    “What has you in such a happy, dreamy mood this morning, mia bellissima ?” Her father asked as he came in from his morning walk among the vines. Bella’s family owned the oldest of the local vineyards, the Bacio Belladonna. Bella herself was the vineyard’s seventh namesake.
    “She thinks she’ll be Queen of the May this year,” Ava, her nosy little sister, answered for her. Bella glared at her before remembering the May Queen needed to be placid and ladylike. She smoothed out her features and bestowed her best smile on her Babbo. He grinned back, softening the lines on his tired face. Her mother handed him his strong morning coffee and he sank gratefully down into the chair beside her.
    “I hope the sisters pick you, mia bellissima , for your sake.”
    “Pick her? She argues with the sisters far too much,” Ava scoffed. When Babbo turned to speak to her mother, Bella twisted the skin on Ava’s forearm in a vicious pinch. Her answering howl drew the attention of both parents and Bella scurried out of the house to school.
    At school, Bella waited all day for the announcement. After all, this was her last chance. She’d move on to secondary school next year, a shadowy holding ground between primary school and adulthood, where they didn’t crown May Queens. Bella sat next to her friend, Mary Teresa, and considered how to best appear surprised when her name was called.
    “Who do you suppose it’ll be?” Teresa asked.
    “Sister Gianna says it will be the most worthy girl in school so . . .” Bella shrugged, not wanting to appear too