Tessa stirred in her sleep, her head now in Renata's lap.

Serafina said, "I think Scarpo, Arcangelo, Tessa, all saw the killer. Similar to the begging monk I saw, but perhaps he was a real one. Hard to tell."

"Stop the blabbering. Too many words."

They stopped talking. Serafina might have closed her eyes. She rolled with the motion of the clacking wheels. Then she said, "And I think that the three women were lured by a man disguised as a monk, duped into following him by his promise of salvation."

"Wonder how much they paid him?" Rosa asked.

They let the train rock them back and forth.

"What about Falco?" the madam asked.

Serafina looked down at her hands. She felt her face redden. "Falco, I don't trust. Asked him where he was on the night Bella was killed. Claims he doesn't remember."

"Sorry I am that I did not see," the madam said, in a rare moment of insight.

"See what?" Serafina asked.

"Falco. He had special privilege, you know. Came and went as he pleased. A charmer. No more charmers in my house," the madam said.

Serafina patted her knee. "We all see what we want to see. But I'll need to send Arcangelo and Beppe tomorrow for evidence of where Falco was, if he can produce it."

"Should give him enough time to concoct something," Rosa said.

Serafina shifted in her seat. "We must keep half an eye on him. He gains the most by Bella's death."

Rosa sat up. "Don't forget he gained from Gemma's and Nelli's, too. I tell you, at the root is lucre."

"How so?"

"Perhaps he schemes to take the house from me."

Serafina stared out the window.

Rosa got up and stretched. Tessa and Renata slept.

The train plowed through the late dusk. Serafina examined her watch pin. "We arrive in Oltramari soon."

Renata rubbed her eyes and sat up. "Caru Signura," she began.

Rosa's eyes narrowed.

Renata persisted. "Please let Tessa stay with us tonight. We'll drive her back tomorrow afternoon-"

"Out of the question. Never!" the madam interrupted. "Tessa stays with me."

Hearing her name, Tessa sat up.

"But I want to show her how I make calamaru, one of my specialties. A cook must take great care in its preparation, and I'll show Tessa all of my tricks. After supper, she can play with Maria and Tot."

Rosa shook her head. But Serafina, knowing the madam, sensed a slower shake of her black curls.

"Please!" Tessa, Serafina, and Renata said in unison.

Rosa wagged her finger. "You've rehearsed this play, the three of you, behind my back."

"No," Tessa said.

It was the first time Serafina heard Tessa say 'no' to Rosa. "But this is your busy evening. Tessa will be left alone."

"If you think you can wiggle Tessa out from under my nose-"

"Of course not. Your daughter needs you. But she also needs to be with children."

"Clever of you to know what Tessa needs, when you don't know how to keep your own daughter at-"

"Enough!" Serafina said, and looked away. Like a dog and bone, the madam.

They were silent, until Tessa saw her home town approaching. "Our piazza!" she shouted. Jumping up and down, she looked from one woman to the other.

Rosa bent to whisper in her ear. Tessa smiled. "This once Tessa stays with you. Bring her home tomorrow afternoon."

In the west, the sky was lapis lazuli, the clouds, rimmed in gold. The women and Tessa walked through the gardens in front of the station and made their way to a stand, hoping to find a cab to take them home. Here and there gas lamps glowed in the gathering dusk. Their smell mingled with the richness of cooling soil.

Traffic was brisk this evening on the roads circling the station. Carts, carriages and traps moved in all directions, the din of their wheels on the cobblestones like the rumble of thunder. Carabinieri stood on platforms blowing ineffective whistles at the snarl. Peasants rode bareback. Large baskets hung on either side of their beasts. One mule sat in the middle of the road and refused to budge. Hat in hand, the driver pleaded with the animal.

Serafina had to walk fast to keep up with Rosa. Renata and Tessa followed behind.

"Oh, the air, how sweet, almost like spring. I can smell the pungent scent of loam," Serafina said, her eyes sweeping the traffic to find an empty cab.

"Not loam. Sand and rocks, our soil," Rosa said.

"Our house has rich earth. My ancestors brought it with them from the fields to make fertile gardens. The city did the same when they built the station. Giorgio told me."

"Such fantasy! All I smell is the foulness of the train on me, like a thousand mules passing wind. I feel the grit of the day." Rosa buried her nose in one of her sleeves and made a face.

Tessa skipped to keep up, holding Renata's hand.

"Impossible. You can't agree with me, can you? You haven't changed. You were the same as a child. Always seeing the bleak, never the poetic. And I don't make that up-I was there. I remember helping my mother deliver difficult babies, and, afterward, you, you stubborn child, you refused to listen to my joyful words of life and birth. When will you grow up?"

Rosa laughed. "Built up my business, didn't I, but not by thinking deep thoughts. And I must bathe before our guests arrive. How do the wives of the conductors stand them? The one in our car smelled like stale cod. But the fine weather and the end of the festa, good for the trade. I feel a full house coming on tonight."

Rosa rubbed her hands together. There was a bounce in her step, caprice in her soul. Was this the same woman who could barely move when they got off the train in Palermo?

"Hurry, too slow, you're like an old woman." Rosa churned the air with her gestures.

Never stopped to wonder or ask why, that Rosa of hers, with her flinty mind and scorn for fantasy. Her haunches strained the seams of her dress as they flexed forward.

Yes, she had to admire Rosa. When the war came and the apothecary shop was closed along with all the others around the piazza, Rosa's brains kept Serafina's family from starving. Did her house close? Not for a blink. Clever Rosa, she prospered with the ebb and flow of history, except for now. She could be ruined by the murders of her women. It was Serafina's turn to help. She'd crush this killer. She must. Her fingernails bit into her palms.

"Look who's coming. It's Beppe and Arcangelo!" Serafina hallooed, waving her arms in the air. "Our luck, Rosa, let it last." She crossed herself.

Beppe rolled to a stop, jumped down and bowed, almost touching his leggings. "Vicenzu was worried. He asked me to come and wait for you. And Arcangelo rides with me." Arcangelo tipped his hat, a rifle slung underneath one arm.

The four of them piled into the cab, Rosa grunting as she reached for the step with one short leg, Beppe boosting her up by pushing with one shoulder placed under the madam's rear. Serafina heard the click of the door, the crack of the whip, and the carriage lurched forward.

"Beppe!" Rosa hung her head out the window, holding onto her hat, now skewed to the side of her head, curls and feathers blowing in the whistling air. "Take me home first. They need me. The week before a holiday, you know."

Weeping Madonna.

Wednesday, October 24, 1866.

The whole family sat together on the sofa, younger children piled on top of older laps. Horsehair tufted from a hole in one of the cushions.

"You touched me," Maria said.

"Did not!" Tot held his finger out, almost, but not quite touching Maria's arm.

"Did so! Get away!"

"Did not!"

"Enough!"

"But he's rolling his train on my leg!"

"Tot!" Serafina looked up at the crucifix. She heard children's voices. They grew louder.

"Can I go outside and play?" Tot asked.

"It's raining," Giulia said.

"But they're outside. See?" He pointed to the window. A line of children marched up the walk. "Can I?"

"No."

"Anyway, they're orphans." Maria pushed up her spectacles.

"So?"

"Orphans can do anything they want. They live here," Maria said. "And tell him not to roll his toy on me ever again."

"On the rug, Tot," Renata said.

"And be quiet." Vicenzu brushed lint from his lapels. "She should be here soon. We're early, as usual." He shot a glance at Serafina.

They waited.

Tot made the sound of a steam engine. Water dribbled from his mouth. The steam engine grew louder.

"I could be practicing," Maria said.

"You'd be in school if you weren't here," Vicenzu said. "Count to a thousand."

"Don't waste my time."

"Maria, no more," Renata said.

The door opened and Carmela entered. She was older, shorter than Serafina remembered, hair the same, skin, iridescent, eyes like the sea, stomach distended. She smelled like neroli oil and powder.

Renata, Vicenzu, Giulia rushed to her. They hugged. They kissed. They laughed, hugged again.

"Where's Carlo? Papa?"

Serafina's eyes gazed at her daughter's waist. "Carlo's at school. He'll be home next week for Li Morti."

Her children stood aside while Serafina hugged Carmela. Her daughter felt stiff.

"Sit down, my precious," Serafina said, wiping her eyes. I have harsh news. Someone hand your sister a towel."

"A towel?"

They laughed.

"Handkerchief. You know what I mean."

They laughed again.

Renata and Giulia sat on the sofa with Carmela. Vicenzu pulled up the chair for Serafina.

"Something bad?"

She held her daughter's hands. They were callused. "About six months ago, your papa was in the shop. He collapsed." Serafina tried to control herself, but couldn't. "Vicenzu...tell her."

"I was in the back of the store," he said. "I heard a crash. Saw Papa on the floor. Held him. He tried, but couldn't talk. Closed his eyes. A customer ran to Dr. Loffredo. Mama was delivering. Still breathing. They rushed him to hospital, but he..." Vicenzu stopped. "Died."

Renata and Giulia held Carmela. No one spoke.

After she dried her eyes, Carmela stared at Serafina. Her daughter looked like a weeping Madonna.