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"Madonna Mia!" you whispered. What a pleasant surprise for both of us to discover we were fluent in each other's language.
Signor DiMera, I know it must seem forward, my writing to you this way. I chose to write in Italian, your native tongue, because, to be frank, Mary O'Callaghan at the postal office has shown herself to be far too curious. I'm sitting in the small chapel not just for privacy, but for direction. As it's never been my wont to write to a man I barely know, until you granted me that rare purpose.
Our first meeting was an odd one as first meetings go. I was as clumsy as a duchess milking cows, but we seemed to be, as you would say - "simpatico". Which gives me the courage to put pen to paper, as I have a great favor to ask. Taking advantage of our short acquaintance, the favor has to do with your wife back in Tuscano. And rest assure, I am not taking you up on your offer for a grand tour of your homeland. Your flattering words were quite inappropriate... especially for a married man! Telling me you had seen "Heaven on Earth!"
Despite your inappropriate comments, I found myself judging you charitably. Your kind eyes, and the lovely things you said about your wife and son are what led me to write this letter. I think you are probably a decent man underneath all the blarney (if you don't mind my mixing a bit of Gaelic in with my Latin) and it is the basis of this belief that I come to you with a favor. I wanted to broach the subject with you at the church, but then Father Mallory came in, and the moment was lost... I pray you won't think me too forward, asking a favor on so short an acquaintance. But I so admired the silk handkerchief your wife made, that I'd treasure having one for my "da." He's worked hard all his life and never had a bit of luxury to call his own. Perhaps you might bring one to me, and I could pay you for it. A prompt response would be most desirable. Sincerely, Colleen |
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