whole-face smile. He was feeling very good since it was a completely new day.
“This very young lady wants a breakfast to end breakfasts.”
“I understand,” the Gran Maestro said and he looked at Renata and his heart rolled over as a porpoise does in the sea. It is a beautiful movement and only a few people in this world can feel it and accomplish it.
“What do you want to eat, Daughter?” the Colonel asked, looking at her early morning, unretouched dark beauty.
“Everything.”
“Would you give any suggestions?”
“Tea instead of coffee and whatever the Gran Maestro can salvage.”
“It won’t be salvage, Daughter,” said the Gran Maestro.
“I’m the one who calls her Daughter.”
“I said it honestly,” the Gran Maestro said. “We can make or fabricar rognons grilled with champignons dug by people I know. Or, raised in damp cellars. There can be an omelet with truffles dug by pigs of distinction. There can be real Canadian bacon from maybe Canada, even.”
“Wherever that is,” the girl said happily and unillusioned.
“Wherever that is,” said the Colonel seriously. “And I know damn well where it is.”
“I think we should stop the jokes now and get to the breakfast.”
“If it is not unmaidenly I think so too. Mine is a decanted flask of the Valpolicella.”
