jaylar
I had been given a length of velveteen for a song. It was a strange wheat color; I assumed the dye had not taken. Neither brown nor tan nor beige nor gray, but all of them measured together.
What use was such a fabric? Who could wear such a thing?
Sophia Gallucci.
I did a simple unadorned gown for her; good enough for Denise Caruso’s wedding.
It was that gown which caught Salvatore Scallaci’s eye and his heart.
I knew she was wrong for him.
He was quiet, steady, twenty eight. She was nineteen with a dream of going to Hollywood and becoming a movie star.
In those days, twenty one was adult, so she suffered the ’suppression’ of her parents, as she called it. But they knew, at least her mother knew, exactly what Sophia was and would be.
“Not under my roof.” Was Mrs. Gallucci’s prayer.
When Sophia and Salvatore became engaged Mrs. Gallucci said a Novena.
