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isn’t his business. Does he go around the streets and search for people with holes in their shoes and demand they buy new ones? Does he have a shoe store that needs business? And why would he send his brother in here to make certain I actually buy the shoes?”
    â€œWow.” Joanna fanned herself. “That’s just . . .
wow
.”
    Francesca rolled her eyes. “Don’t start. It isn’t
wow
. It’s creepy. Maybe his brother has a shoe fetish and my shoes don’t meet his standard for the neighborhood.”
    â€œIt’s
wow
and you know it. He’s hot. He’s rich. He’s interested in you.”
    Francesca stiffened. “He is not. Not like that. Take another look in those magazines at what that man’s type is. It isn’t me. I’m no model. I’m short and have a lot of curves. All the running in the world isn’t going to get rid of my . . .” She indicated her generous breasts. “Or my butt. Not to mention, I didn’t see one Italian-American woman in the entire harem.”
    Joanna burst out laughing. “Maybe he’s looking to add one.”
    Francesca couldn’t help but laugh with her. “I don’t think so.”
    â€œYou are beautiful, Francesca,” Joanna said, sobering. “Really, really beautiful. Your face is flawless. None of those models have anything on you. Your face. Your hair.”
    â€œMy lovely figure,” Francesca said sarcastically. “I’m not a size zero.”
    â€œYou have a lovely figure. I’ve always been envious of that tiny waist.”
    Joanna was tall and willow thin. She easily could have been a model. She liked food and ate more than Francesca could imagine any woman eating without gaining weight, but she just didn’t. Every one of their college friends envied her.
    â€œI don’t gain in my waist, just up top or my bottom. No pizza for me.” Francesca
loved
pizza, and they were going out for her first Chicago pizza. Joanna told her the best place was right there in the Ferraro neighborhood. That’s what she referred to it as—the Ferraro territory or neighborhood—as if they owned it all. Maybe they did. At least the buildings.
    â€œYou’re going to eat pizza,” Joanna said. “You won’t be able to resist. This place makes the best. It’s orgasmic.”
    Francesca burst out laughing again. “You’re so crazy.” Her smile faded. “Joanna. Seriously. Thank you. I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you. I felt so hopeless and I was terrified all the time.” She was still terrified, but not so hopeless. And Joanna made her remember friendship, family and laughter.
    â€œDon’t be absurd. I’m so glad you’ve come. I have friends here, but not a bestie. You’re my total bestie. In any case, you repaid me already. I have Giovanni Ferraro’s card and I can skip the line and get into the club or call him.”
    Francesca smiled. “There you go. I’m good for getting you into clubs.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll wipe everything down and clean up for the next shift. Pietro should be back by then.”
    Joanna waited for her and they walked out together, Francesca wrapped in Stefano Ferraro’s long cashmere coat. She’d considered leaving it in her apartment, but she didn’t dare. Her apartment wasn’t very safe. The lock was tricky and sometimes didn’t actually lock. She’d told the owner and he’d promised to put a new lock in, but she wasn’t leaving that coat where someone could walk in and steal it. Whoknew that the responsibility of a coat would make her a little crazy?
    It seemed silly to carry the overcoat to work, when it would keep her warm, so she wore it, inhaling Stefano’s scent with every breath she took. She hung it carefully in Pietro’s office