When he gets home the house is full. Three of his brothers are visiting with their families. His wife serves coffee to the adults at the kitchen table while the kids play upstairs. They call out to him as soon as he walks through the door.

"Madon'! Saturdays he works too!"

"He's a cetriol', my brother. He don't know weekends are for relaxing."

"Relax, my ass. Tell my landlord." He picks up a cannoli from a dish heaped high with anise cookies and bow ties and honey balls and crullers. Before he can ask she pours him a cup of coffee.

"Tell him about the beauty shop. The stregon'."

"Ou Fa! I'm in this beauty parlor . . . "