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managed to persevere.” Instead of stopping there as Piper expected, he then added, “But I’m not surprised.”
    â€œYou’re not?”
    â€œWe are Bianconeri. Italians! Our young players have football, or as you call it here, soccer, in their blood.”
    â€œSo you feel the Cloverdale team had no chance against your team?”
    â€œWell . . .” Conti laughed deprecatingly. “Cloverdale has very good players, very good.” His tone seemed to suggest otherwise to Piper, which Morgan apparently picked up on, too, as he wisely decided to move on.
    He asked Conti about the makeup of his team, and Conti discussed several of his players in glowing terms. When he mentioned Frederico Esposito, Piper thought he might be the player she’d seen Miranda talking to. Conti called Frederico his top player. They then discussed the Bianconeri team’s upcoming schedule, after which Morgan touched on Conti’s background.
    â€œI understand this isn’t your first time in our area, that you actually spent some time here as a youth?”
    â€œYes, yes, that’s right.” Conti said.
    â€œAnd that you played soccer while you were here?”
    â€œI did. Of course, it wasn’t anything like playing back in my hometown in Italy, but it was very interesting. I like to think I brought something to that high school team.”
    â€œI’m sure you did. I did a bit of checking in our archives, and it looked like you were the star player for Cloverdale High School back then.”
    â€œWell . . .” A noncommittal chuckle.
    â€œHow does it feel to be back now? Have you run into old friends?”
    â€œYes, yes, of course. Many. It’s been good, very good.”
    Piper had seen Conti talking with only Denise Standley during the game, and she appeared uncomfortable and anxious to move on.
    â€œAnd the town, has it changed much?”
    At that, Conti laughed broadly. “In some ways, of course, yes. But after all these years, it still needs to work on its pizza! Our first day in Cloverdale, we go to Carlo’s for the pizza pie. Sounds Italian, right? Well, Carlo, it turns out, has never been anywhere near my country, and what he brings us was, well, it was disappointing, yes, but the worst thing was . . .” Conti cleared his throat. “Let’s just say that maybe the health inspector should drop in to take a look around?” Conti chuckled.
    â€œLast night, to celebrate our win, we go outside of town to a place called La Trattoria, where we hope to find
real
pizza along with clean tables—which we did! And who owns it? A German named Burkhart! But I think his mother must have been Italian.” Conti laughed heartily, but Piper didn’t hear Morgan joining in. Instead he hurriedly thanked Conti for his time and sent the show to commercial.
    Piper’s eyebrows had arched with Conti’s first comments and remained that way through most of the broadcast. Conti surely hadn’t won any friends with that interview. She could see why he might want to put down Cloverdale’s team—possibly to stir more ticket sales by riling up the local team’s supporters. But then to bash one of its restaurants? Piper didn’t know if Carlo’s pizza was authentic or not, but the place had seemed perfectly clean when Will took her there once. She hoped Carlo, and most of Cloverdale for that matter, hadn’t been listening.
    The phone rang, and Piper turned the radio down.
    â€œMiss Lamb? You had a question about one of our spices?” It was one of Piper’s suppliers; she’d left an inquiry with them the day before. She spent the next few minutes discussing the sources of their ginger along with the price. By the time she’d finished, the Chet Morgan show had ended, and Piper switched to the soothing music she’d sought earlier.
    Piper was in her back room, getting a batch of white pearl