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“These are my friends.” I gave them a wave. “They’re good at hammering and stuff.”
    â€œI’m sure Gi has stuff to hammer,” I said. “I’ll head upstairs to see if I can help Jane with curtains, but I’m not really the sewing type.”
    â€œOkay, but promise me one thing.” He looked very serious.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œPlease help her choose the colors. She is an amazing designer, but her fabric selecting? Ugh!” He covered his face.
    â€œI’ll do my best,” I said, but the truth was that I was kind of “ugh” myself.
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    Jane dashed from one side of the apartment to the other, throwing around balls of yarn, yards of fabrics, spools of thread, and measuring tape. I had to duck or a flying sketch pad would’ve clocked me right in the noggin.
    â€œRedecorating Amore Pizzeria is a great idea, Lucy,” Jane said excitedly without looking up from her searching.
    If she thought that was good, she hadn’t heard my best idea of all. “Thanks.”
    â€œHere it is.” She pulled a key ring with swatches of fabric from under a stack of fashion magazines and flipped through them. “Oh, I can’t decide. I like this one and this one and this one. And this one is pretty.” She stared at them. “Hmmm . . . What do you think?”
    â€œUm, I’m really not great at this stuff.” I remembered what Rico had said. “Maybe we should call for backup.”
    She nodded and stomped on the floor four times.
    Bam—bam—bam—bam.
    â€œWe’ll ask Rico,” she said. “He has a great eye for color.”
    â€œI wouldn’t have guessed,” I said.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œMaybe because he’s a boy.”
    â€œTrue, but he’s a boy with an eye for fashion,” she said. “A good eye too. I like that he is confident enough to be this tough guy who likes typical boy stuff, but this stuff too.”
    I nodded. That was pretty cool.
    I was walking around the apartment/sewing studio waiting for Rico, when I heard a sound coming from downstairs. I walked toward it. It floated up from a vent. The same way I had heard what was happening up here when I was in the kitchen, I could hear people downstairs.
    It was Gianna. She said, “What are you doing here? My aunt would flip out if she knew.”
    The only person I could imagine she would say that to was Lorenzo from Pizzeria de Roma. He was here early. I didn’t like that Lorenzo was in Amore’s kitchen. I had just made up that stuff about the recipe being locked in a safe. For all I knew, it was written on a Post-it or sitting on a counter somewhere.
    I heard Lorenzo say, “I wanted to tell you something.”
    I waved to Jane. “Come here. Listen,” I whispered.
    She bent toward the vent.
    â€œReally, you can’t be in the shop,” Gianna said. “Maybe we can go out for a walk or something?”
    Lorenzo asked, “Can I have a Coke?”
    Rico walked into the apartment to find Jane and me crouched on the floor. “Looks like fun,” he said.
    We both shushed him.
    â€œJeez,” he said, and bent down next to us.
    Lorenzo was saying, “I am very thirsty.”
    Gianna said, “Fine. I’ll get you some Coke, but then you have to leave.”
    â€œ Sì . That is good.”
    I could hear Gianna’s wooden sandals clopping on the floor as she left the kitchen and walked to the bar area, where the soda was kept in a refrigerator. I wished I could see what Lorenzo was doing.
    Gianna and her shoes came back in. “Here you go.”
    â€œ Grazie ,” he said. Then he exclaimed, “Whoa! That is a grande cat.”
    â€œLots of him to love,” Gianna said, and I imagined her scratching Meataball’s ears.
    Then I guess Lorenzo had sipped his soda, because he said, “Oh! It is great. And you know what else is