Love Begins in Winter by Simon van Booy Page B

thin voice of all children.
    The three of them strolled through the casino without talking.
    A few lugubrious souls were perched at the slots. The machines roared with life.
    Two black men in suits with arms crossed smiled at the gondolier.
    â€œHow you doing, Richard?” one of them said.
    â€œCiao,” the gondolier replied in a low voice.
    â€œIs your name Richard?” Molly asked.
    â€œIn another life.”
    â€œIn Italy?” asked the boy.
    â€œAnother life, little one,” the gondolier said.
    â€œActually, can you call me ‘big one’?” the little boy asked.

    The corridor was a long marble walkway with tall milky pillars. Then they reached a room with a thousand gold leaves painted on the wall. The boy looked up. Naked people in robes swam through color. There were scores of angels too—even baby ones with plump faces and rosy cheeks.
    â€œMadonna!” the boy said.
    As they neared the end of the room, they could hear music, a few notes from an instrument strapped to a man’s belly.
    â€œ Caro mio ,” the accordionist said when he saw the gondolier.
    â€œ Ciao fratello ,” the gondolier said. “Let me introduce you to my dear two friends from the old country.”
    Carlo smiled and moved his instrument from side to side. His fingers pressed buttons and the box emitted its unique croak. The rush of air into its belly was like breathing.
    â€œIt’s nice,” Molly said.

    Carlo followed them at a distance of several yards, playing the same three notes over and over again. The little boy kept turning around to smile. He’d never felt so important. When they stopped walking, they were outside on a bridge.
    The rising sun was visible through a crack between two towering casino buildings.
    â€œSee that, big one?” the gondolier said to the boy. “Every morning can be the beginning of your life—you have thousands of lives, but each is only a day long.”

    When the sun had passed above them and given itself to the world, a woman in a black dress brought out a tray. She was very tall, and her heels clicked along the stone bricks.
    â€œGood morning,” she said, and passed the tray of food to the gondolier.
    Molly hesitated. “We didn’t order this.”
    â€œNo, no—it’s from your friend,” the woman said, then pointed to one of the many intricately arched balconies built into the façade of the casino. An unrecognizable figure from a great height began to wave. When the same three notes bellowed out into the square, the boy waved back.
    On the tray were half a dozen Krispy Kreme glazed doughnuts and a small wine bottle with a rose in it.
    â€œVenetian Donetti Rings,” the gondolier marveled.
    The boy stared at them. “They look nice,” he said.
    The gondolier sniffed one and handed it to his little friend. “They’re fresh—only a few minutes old,” he said.
    â€œLike the day,” the boy said. The gondolier nodded with enthusiasm.
    There were also three very small cups, two filled with black coffee and a third with milk.
    â€œAre these cups for children?” asked the boy.
    â€œYes,” said the gondolier, “because no matter how big sons and daughters get, they will always be children in the eyes of their parents.”
    Molly laughed.
    After breakfast, the gondolier took Molly and her son by the hand and led them to the edge of an enormous swimming pool that ran under bridges and skirted the edge of the main square.
    There were strange boats floating, all tied together and bobbing in agreement.
    â€œWe should probably get back,” Molly said.
    â€œYou’re right, Mama,” the gondolier said, “but one ride won’t take long.”
    â€œ Jed will have to wait for us now, Mom,” the boy said.
    â€œShit,” Molly said angrily.
    â€œWhy not?” the gondolier said.
    â€œCome on, Max,” Molly said.
    Molly started