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“Let’s go,” he said with a smile.
Hand in hand, Alice and Hugo headed down the gray porch steps. They crossed the yard and up the steps to the front door. Even though the porch light was off and the darkness filled the void, the crimson red paint on the door was unmistakable. Alice squeezed Hugo’s hand at the first sign of change to his old family home.
“Their home, not mine,” he said before knocking on the door.
The crimson door opened. Sylvia stood in the door, shadowed by the backlight behind her.
“Good evening and welcome,” she said, backing away from the doorway. “Please enter and make yourselves at home.”
Alice and Hugo entered. Sylvia shut the door behind them.
Hugo stood in the hallway, taking in the new decorations. The walls were painted a dark, blackish-green color. A sharp contrast from the lighter, beige color when Hugo lived there. Crimson red curtains were drawn over the windows in the living room. Chesterfield style furniture, all in black leather, filled the room. The walls were filled with various picture frames and old family relics.
The shelves and mantle of the fireplace, once white, were now the same blackish-green as the walls. Each shelf was filled with an assortment of books. Some new, but mostly old, as if they were original copies. Their canvas bindings were frayed and well worn. The leather-bound books had an inviting appearance as if the soft, supple leather beckoned Alice to open them to discover their secrets. The light throughout the house was dim and flickering, simulating candlelight.
The once bright and cheerful happy home was steeped in an eerie darkness.
“I love your hair,” Sylvia said. “It’s so unique and vibrant. Your hat too.”
“Thank you,” Alice responded as she removed her hat and tousled her hair.
“You can hang up your coats in the closet if you’d like. Sebastianshould be finishing up dinner in a moment,” Sylvia said as she retreated down the hallway toward the kitchen. Her backless red dress swayed with every step as the hem glided above the hardwood floor.
Sylvia disappeared into the kitchen. When she was gone, Alice and Hugo glanced at each other.
“I think I’m underdressed.” Alice gestured to her outfit. She wore a long sleeve, black, tunic blouse which flared out at the bottom like the skirt of a dress paired with a blackish-gray pair of jeans.
“Me too,” Hugo said. He wore a blue button-up shirt and dark blue jeans.
Hugo opened the closet door and hung up their outerwear. They proceeded down the hallway to the dining area.
A crimson red tablecloth covered a rectangular table. There were four place settings—two on each side—with gold silverware and black napkins. Wine goblets were placed behind every plate. A black candelabra with red candlesticks melted away in the center of the table. Alice glanced at Hugo, raising an eyebrow.
He leaned in and whispered, “Need I remind you, you’re the one with purple hair and a purple house?”
“Fair point,” Alice replied.
Sebastian entered carrying a large plate of pasta in one hand and a bowl of sausage, peppers, and onions in a tomato sauce in the other. He set them down, one on each side of the candelabra.
“I hope you’re hungry. I made my favorite dish—a family specialty from back home in Italy. Sweet Italian sausage with peppers and onions in homemade red sauce,” he said. “I hope you like garlic. We Savinos have been known to add a little too much to our sauce.”
“Are you from Italy?” Hugo said. “Not to offend, but I don’t hear an accent.”
“Sí.” Sebastian brushed off his white apron. “And no offense taken. I lost my accent with age. I was much younger when I came over. Although my family was originally from Italy, I grew up on theFrench side of the border. So, I’m a bit of Italian and French. It’s also why I wanted Antonio’s secret recipe; although he wouldn’t give it to me, no matter the price.” He chuckled.
Alice’s mouth watered at the as the sweet aromas filled her senses. “It smells wonderful.”
“Thank you. Please sit,” he said. “Sylvia went downstairs to grab a bottle of wine from the wine cellar.”
“You have a wine cellar downstairs?” Hugo asked.
“More like racks. A modest, personal collection I don’t sell in my restaurant,” Sebastian said. He rolled down his red sleeves, adjusted his black tie, and straightened his black vest before taking his seat.
Alice and Hugo sat down as well.
Sylvia entered carrying a bottle of wine and set it on the table. “It took me awhile to find it. It’s an older vintage,” she said.
Sylvia collected Hugo’s and Alice’s goblets and began filling them. The reddish-purple liquid sloshed around before coming to a rest. She filled hers and Sebastian’s as well. “We love wine. Are you two big wine drinkers?”
