"You need to water the petunias," she says, handing me the watering can. When half the water falls on me, she goes back to her work. "And your excuse, Francesco?"
"I drowned my flowers." He literally drowned a flower in the hole our mother dug. It's a pool of mud and we are children again, just annoying her.
"Lorenzo, arrange a good deal with a good wife for this boy," she decides.
"I can do that," I say, receiving a serious look from Francesco and a happy one from Mom. "As long as Francesco asks me."
"If your father were here..."
"He's not. Don't suppose decisions he'll never have to make. I'm not my father, despite wanting very much to make him proud. Don't make our coexistence unbearable," I complain.
She drops everything in her hands and takes off her protective gloves. She sits
