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“Madonna Mother of God!” Tony Bosco would have had the crown of his head smacked with a wooden spoon by Grandma for saying it, but he couldn’t help himself.
His cousin Vic looked up from where he’d been sliding the latest tray of dark chocolate orange truffles into the display case. Together they stared out the large plate-glass window that faced onto the Madison Street sidewalk, at the east edge of Seattle.
“Oh, yes. She is something, isn’t she?”
Something? Tony couldn’t even speak. He hadn’t prayed in years but he wanted to drop to his knees on the linoleum and beg God himself to make her turn in at their chocolate shop’s door. He’d been back in Seattle for only three hours and he had just seen a goddess—unlike any woman he’d found in his entire five years in Europe.
When she did
