Chapter 5
It was raining harder. Umberto offered Arthur shelter under his umbrella, and I followed behind under the awnings.
I tried to find a way out of this situation as we neared the Chopin Building, but it was too late.
We rode up in the elevator together without saying much.
In the dining room, the table was already set for three, even though Umberto hadn’t called home to say he’d be having lunch with more people—confirmation that our meeting was not at all random.
The old man told us to make ourselves comfortable and disappeared down the hallway, returning shortly with two names and phone numbers jotted down on a piece of paper.
“I trust these men completely,” he said, handing the piece of paper to Arthur. “Will you join me for a glass of wine?”
I declined. Arthur accepted a glass and toasted with Umberto.
“I’m so glad to welcome you two into my home, boys.”
From the look in Arthur’s eyes, I could tell he found Umberto’s gushy effusiveness odd but was beginning to warm up to the old man.
Umberto knew how to be both pleasant and eccentric to just the right degree.
He joked about the country’s political situation and even managed to pry a shy smile from Arthur.
The maid came into the living room to inform us that lunch was ready.
Umberto stood up, clapping his hands in celebration.
He smirked with delight as we stepped into the dining room.
“Pork tenderloin … I just love this dish. Love it!”
He took his seat, licking his lips and picking up his knife and fork. Arthur did the same, looking at the nicely decorated platter with interest. I just stood there, frozen, propped up against the back of a chair.
“Is everything all right, Dante?”
Arthur placed the cloth napkin on his lap, while Umberto stood to take my arm and guide me to my chair.
“I’m not feeling very well.”
“You must be hungry. I know how much you love pork tenderloin. You’re not seriously going to turn it down, are you?”
Umberto made a point of serving us generous slices.
Immediately, Arthur grabbed his knife and fork and put the first piece in his mouth.
He chewed slowly, tasting the unusual, delicious flavors that I was already familiar with.
The old man ate contentedly, his cheeks bulging with meat.
I skewered a small piece, trying to buy myself time.
“So?” asked Umberto. “Isn’t it divine?”
Arthur smiled. Leaning over his plate, he chewed a new bite with visible contentment.
“It really is,” he said with his mouth full. “A delicacy!”