He’s patient, polite, and intent on helping my mom with whatever she needs in the kitchen. My mom gives him a few tasks, including washing the buckets’ worth of strawberries, and Lorenzo does it without a single complaint, following every request with a “Sì, signora” that makes me giggle. “Your dad used to say that too.” I gape. Lorenzo blinks. “You knew Lorenzo’s dad?” I ask my mom because Lorenzo looks incapable of speaking. My mom looks cautious all of a sudden. “I didn’t know him too well, but I never forgot his flower order.” I can’t resist asking, “What was it?” “Whatever’s in season—”
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