Very Valentine

But it’s the final window that means the most to me. The Bella Rosa is worn by a bride in a white wool traveling suit by Giorgio Armani. She holds a ticket in one hand, and a tiara in the other as she flees an unhappy romantic scenario on the streets of Saint Petersburg. The substantial shoe works fluidly with the tailored suit, as though it was made to anchor the ensemble.

I wish Costanzo Ruocco were here to see the Bella Rosa, but for now, I will hold this moment in my memory, and when I return to Capri, will relive it for him the best I can. In the corner of the final window, it says,

All Shoes Created by the Angelini Shoe Company

Greenwich Village

Since 1903

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” Gram and I turn to see my mother hanging out of a livery-cab window. She leaps out of the car before it comes to a complete stop and joins us on the sidewalk.

I wondered what my mother might wear to view the windows for the first time. She does not disappoint. Mom wears a gray wool pantsuit with a fake gray leopard shrug slung over her shoulders. Her high-heeled pumps are dull silver, with large square leather buckles on the toe. I don’t know how she does it, but my mother manages to match the weather. She also wears a pair of large, black, oval sunglasses, an homage to Breakfast at Bergdorf’s no doubt. She holds a sack of bagels from Eisenberg’s in one hand and peels off her sunglasses with the other. She hands the bag to me and then runs down the block to take in the windows.

Mom raises her arms high in the air in triumph as she surveys the windows. She looks for our shoes, and when she finds them in the tableaux, she shrieks with joy. I’ve never seen her this proud, including at the culmination of Alfred’s astonishing college career, when he graduated summa cum laude from Cornell. This is another big moment for her. She runs to Gram and throws her arms around her. “Daddy would be so proud!” Mom wipes away a tear.

“He would be.” Gram straightens Mom’s fur shrug on her shoulders, which shifted when she ran.

“And you!” Mom turns to me. “You made this happen! You picked up the mantle of the Angelini family and you wore it…do you wear a mantle or do you carry it? Anyway, it doesn’t matter-you kept up our tradition”-she makes a fist-“and you persisted and you apprenticed yourself to the master and now look-you took all that hard work and you brought our little family business into the new century in a very public way. Bergdorf freakin’ Goodman!” Mom can’t resist being a home girl from Queens, even for just a moment. Then she continues, “Angelini shoes, side by side with Prada and Verdura and Pucci! Viva Valentine! I marvel at you. And I’m so proud of you!”

Sometimes when my mother fawns, I taste metal in my mouth, but not this morning. She is genuinely moved and full of love. Every mother should have this moment of glory, when her hard work is brought to fruition and the investment she has made in her children on a daily basis comes full circle, the results on display for the whole world to see.

This moment isn’t about branding, or profits, or marketing. It’s about our family and the tradition of our craft. It’s about what we do. These windows are about our commitment to beauty and quality-every stitch, seam, lace, and binding made by hand and perfected with the skill that can only come from practice, technique, experience, and time. We have been recognized and rewarded in a world where the concept of built by hand is fading fast. Imagine that.

The sun, as white and pure as a full moon, pulls up and parts the gray clouds over the glass buildings on the east side of Fifth Avenue, creating a glare on the store windows that turns them into mirrors. In an instant, the images behind the glass are gone. We can’t see the brides in the snow, or the jewels and the eggs, or our shoes made of leather and suede and satin and silk. All that remains is our reflection, mother, daughter, and granddaughter, this morning an unbroken chain of the finest Italian gold. I wish I could hold on to this moment forever, the three of us, here on Fifth Avenue. But, I can’t. So I do the very best I can and take my grandmother’s hand in mine and slip my other arm around my mother, and wait for the pale winter sun to move so we might revel in our good fortune once more.

Acknowledgments

My mother, Ida Bonicelli Trigiani and her sister, Irma Bonicelli Godfrey, have vivid and wonderful memories of their father, Carlo, to whom this novel is dedicated. I used the terrain of their childhood freely in this novel, bringing me close to the man, my grandfather, whom I never met. My deepest gratitude to them!

Jane Friedman is a visionary and a superb leader who brought me to Harper, put me in the hands of the great Jonathan Burnham, Brian Murray, and Michael Morrison, and into a family of folks I am crazy about: my beloved and brilliant editor, Lee Boudreaux, her capable/fabulous right arm, Abigail Holstein, and the talented team of: Kathy Schneider, Christine Boyd, Kevin Callahan, Tina Andreadis, Leslie Cohen, Mary Bolton, Archie Ferguson, Christine Van Bree (oh the cover art!), Sarah Maya Gubkin, Lydia Weaver, Emily Taff, Nina Olmsted, Jeff Rogart, Stephanie Linder, Kathryn Pereira, Jeanette Zwart, Andrea Rosen, Virginia Stanley, Josh Marwell, Brian Grogan, Carl Le

I had the adventure of a lifetime researching the craft of shoemaking in Italy. Gina Casella coordinated the fun, the learning and the translating (!), along with the talents of Patrizia Curiale, Confartigianato MODA; Andrea Benassi, Secretary General, UEAPME (European Association of Craft, Small and Medium-sized Enterprises); Emanuela Picozzi, Public Affairs, U.S. Embassy, Rome; and Elio Chiarotti, our Roman guide. As we traveled and studied, Gina’s daughter Isabella Padasak was a perfect sidekick for our Lucia.

My heartfelt thanks to the master craftsman, shoemaker Costanzo Ruocco and his son Antonio of da Costanzo on the Isle of Capri. Costanzo was generous with his time, technique, and family stories, which I treasure beyond the pages herein. In Rome, Carmelo and Pina Palmisano of Il Calzolaio, shared their knowledge of shoemaking and insights into the family business, which were invaluable.

Suza

At Endeavor, thank you to my longtime friend and agent, Nancy Josephson, to Graham Taylor, and the adorable Michelle Bohan.

In Movieland my love and appreciation to: Susan Cartsonis, Roz Weisberg, Julie Durk, Lou Pitt, Raquel Carreras, Mark Lindsay, and Nancy Klopper.

Michael Patrick King, I treasure your advice, counsel, and support beyond all telling.

Thank you to the world’s best assistant: Kelly Meehan. More thanks to our interns Megan Stokes and Kasey Tympanick. For your eagle eyes, my thanks to: Suza

A

Thank you and love to: Larry Sanitsky, Ian Chapman, Caroline Rhea, Nancy Bolmeier Fisher, Catherine Bre