“He said you could go anytime,” Francesca reminded gently. “It didn’t have anything at all to do with me.”

Joanna sighed and nodded. “I guess you’re right. What time do you get off?”

“Your uncle said five. It’s nearly that now.”

Francesca didn’t have to look at the clock to know it was close to the end of her shift. Her feet were killing her, toes numb with cold. She was afraid she was going to get frostbite. She wished for a bathtub to soak in. The tiny apartment had only a shower, and the water wasn’t very hot. Still, she wasn’t about to complain. She had a roof over her head and Joanna’s uncle paid her a much better wage than she’d anticipated, which meant if he kept giving her the hours he’d promised her, she could pay another month’s rent.

If she just ate one meal a day at the deli, or grazed a little throughout the day, she’d save money. Electricity and water were included in her rent. She didn’t have a cell phone or a car. She was on the lookout for thrift stores so she could see if she could find a few more outfits.

“Why the big sigh?” Joanna asked.

“Why would it be such a big deal to the Ferraro family for me to buy a pair of shoes?” The temptation was there. Her feet were so cold she wanted to cry, not to mention, because the shoes were too big, she had blisters from them constantly rubbing.

“Is it a big deal?”

Francesca nodded, leaning into her hand. “Giovanni told me to buy shoes or his brother was going to be angry. He said not to make him angry.”

“He said that?” Joanna looked shocked.

“I don’t understand why Stefano would care in the first place. It isn’t his business. Does he go around the streets and search for people with holes in their shoes and demand they buy new ones? Does he have a shoe store that needs business? And why would he send his brother in here to make certain I actually buy the shoes?”

“Wow.” Joanna fanned herself. “That’s just . . . wow.”

Francesca rolled her eyes. “Don’t start. It isn’t wow. It’s creepy. Maybe his brother has a shoe fetish and my shoes don’t meet his standard for the neighborhood.”

“It’s wow and you know it. He’s hot. He’s rich. He’s interested in you.”

Francesca stiffened. “He is not. Not like that. Take another look in those magazines at what that man’s type is. It isn’t me. I’m no model. I’m short and have a lot of curves. All the running in the world isn’t going to get rid of my . . .” She indicated her generous breasts. “Or my butt. Not to mention, I didn’t see one Italian-American woman in the entire harem.”

Joanna burst out laughing. “Maybe he’s looking to add one.”

Francesca couldn’t help but laugh with her. “I don’t think so.”

“You are beautiful, Francesca,” Joanna said, sobering. “Really, really beautiful. Your face is flawless. None of those models have anything on you. Your face. Your hair.”

“My lovely figure,” Francesca said sarcastically. “I’m not a size zero.”

“You have a lovely figure. I’ve always been envious of that tiny waist.”

Joanna was tall and willow thin. She easily could have been a model. She liked food and ate more than Francesca could imagine any woman eating without gaining weight, but she just didn’t. Every one of their college friends envied her.

“I don’t gain in my waist, just up top or my bottom. No pizza for me.” Francesca loved pizza, and they were going out for her first Chicago pizza. Joanna told her the best place was right there in the Ferraro neighborhood. That’s what she referred to it as—the Ferraro territory or neighborhood—as if they owned it all. Maybe they did. At least the buildings.

“You’re going to eat pizza,” Joanna said. “You won’t be able to resist. This place makes the best. It’s orgasmic.”

Francesca burst out laughing again. “You’re so crazy.” Her smile faded. “Joanna. Seriously. Thank you. I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you. I felt so hopeless and I was terrified all the time.” She was still terrified, but not so hopeless. And Joanna made her remember friendship, family and laughter.

“Don’t be absurd. I’m so glad you’ve come. I have friends here, but not a bestie. You’re my total bestie. In any case, you repaid me already. I have Giovanni Ferraro’s card and I can skip the line and get into the club or call him.”