Seven O'Clock

At six fifty-seven, Sophia stood by the door in her yellow dress, clutching a stuffed rabbit by its worn ear.

At six fifty-eight, Maria checked her phone without meaning to.

At six fifty-nine, she began preparing the explanation she would give if he did not come.

The knock arrived before she finished it.

Sophia gasped, a small, delighted sound that made Maria wish she could preserve it somewhere safe.

Alessandro stood outside their apartment holding a paper bag. Without a tie or the men who usually surrounded him, he seemed younger. His coat was dark, his shoes expensive, and his shoulders occupied most of the narrow doorway.

He looked past Maria at the peeling paint, the shoes drying on newspaper, the little coat hung low enough for Sophia to reach. His expression did not change.

"I brought breakfast," he said.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted breakfast. I assumed I wouldn't be eating alone."

Sophia appeared beneath Maria's arm.

"You remembered where we live."

"It seemed important."

She offered him her rabbit while she put on her shoes. He accepted it with the same gravity Maria had seen him give sealed documents.

One shoe went on the wrong foot. Sophia scowled at it. Before Maria could kneel, Alessandro crouched in the doorway.

"May I help?"

"The shoe is being difficult."

"I can see that."

He untied the knot with large, careful fingers. Maria stood above them holding the paper bag, feeling strangely exposed in the pale blue dress she had ironed after midnight. She had chosen it because it was clean and comfortable. Now she regretted noticing his gaze pause on her when he stood.

Her sister Rosa emerged from the kitchen in a robe, pale but recovering from the stomach bug that had overturned yesterday's arrangements.

"Please bring my niece home with all her limbs," she told him.

Maria nearly choked.

Alessandro inclined his head.

"Those are reasonable terms."

Outside, a driver opened the car. Another man waited near the corner, apparently studying his phone. Alessandro followed Maria's glance.

"They'll keep their distance."

She looked at the child examining the car seat that had already been installed.

"I appreciate you thinking of that."

"I asked Mrs. Bell what I would need. She supplied an intimidating list."

Maria laughed before she could stop herself. His eyes returned to her, and something in his attention made her look down at the bag.

They ate pastries near the park. Sophia acquired chocolate across her mouth and insisted Alessandro's plain coffee looked lonely. He permitted her to choose a hot chocolate for him, then drank it without complaint.

When she spilled her own cup against his sleeve, Maria immediately reached for napkins.

Sophia went still.

"I'm sorry I got it on you."

He looked at the brown streak, then at her face.

"My sleeve will recover. Are your hands burned?"

She shook her head.

"Then we haven't lost anything important."

Maria stopped wiping. There had been a man at the laundromat who shouted when Sophia bumped his basket. For weeks afterward, she had apologized before touching anything that belonged to a grown-up.

Alessandro took the sticky napkins from Maria's hand.

"You're missing your breakfast."

"I can eat later."

"Sit down, Maria. It's getting cold."

He moved his coat from the bench, making space beside him. Such an ordinary gesture. She had spent eight months stepping out of his way in corridors, and now she did not know how to sit beside him without feeling she had made a mistake.

Sophia settled between them, solving the problem.

At the swings, Alessandro began cautiously.

"You have to push harder," Sophia told him.

"Your mother is watching me very closely."

"She watches everybody."

Maria folded her arms. "With good reason."

He looked over his shoulder. The brief amusement in his face caught her unprepared.

"I'll try to remain worthy of supervision."

He pushed again. Sophia's shoes rose toward the pale sky. Her laughter rang across the playground, startling a pigeon from the fence.

Maria sat on the bench. For the first time in months, there was nothing in her hands. No bag to search, no bill to unfold, no child to lift. She watched his palm hover behind Sophia's back each time the swing returned, ready before she needed him.

Once he turned and found Maria watching. She looked away too quickly.

Later, Sophia insisted they ride the carousel. Alessandro's knees did not fit comfortably around the painted horse, which delighted her beyond reason.

"You look too big," she said.

"I had hoped no one would notice."

Maria took a photograph. Then another when he glanced toward her, the child laughing beside him, sunlight catching in his dark hair.

The second photograph hurt.

She lowered the phone.

When the ride stopped, Sophia demanded to see the pictures. Alessandro stood close enough for Maria to smell clean soap beneath his coat. His sleeve brushed hers as he bent toward the screen.

"Will you send that to me?" he asked.

"Of course."

She sent both before she could reconsider. Her phone vibrated a moment later with a message from an unfamiliar number.

Now you have mine.

She looked up. He was helping Sophia over a puddle.

They had ice cream before lunch. Maria objected just enough to preserve her authority, and Alessandro ordered a sandwich for her before she could say she wasn't hungry.

"You don't know what I like," she said.

"Mrs. Bell said you never eat the ham sandwiches. I took a calculated risk."

It was roasted chicken with tomato. She stared at the plate.

"You asked her about me?"

"I asked what to bring for breakfast. She was thorough."

His expression suggested that was not the whole answer. Maria broke off a piece of bread and concentrated on eating it.

By early afternoon, Sophia had exhausted the rabbit and both adults. They stopped at a picnic table where Maria spread paper from her bag.

Alessandro produced the purple crayon from his inside pocket.

"I believe I owe you this."

Sophia received it with a pleased sigh.

She drew herself in yellow, Maria in blue, and a black figure with very long arms.

"That is you," she told Alessandro. "You need the arms for the swing."

"I'm relieved there is a reason."

Maria smiled. She was still smiling when Sophia drew another figure near a square that represented a window.

On one hand she made an enormous purple circle.

Alessandro stopped moving.

"What does he have there?"

"He has a shiny ring."

Maria recognized the three little spikes inside it, though Sophia's drawing was crooked. The Moretti crest. She had seen it that morning on Marco's hand in the meeting room.

"Which man is this, sweetheart?"

"The man in our kitchen. He wasn't there when you woke up."

The sounds of the park seemed to recede.

"When was he in our kitchen?"

"When you were sick. I was behind the coats."

Four months ago, Maria had caught the flu. Rosa had gone downstairs for medicine. Ten minutes, she said. Perhaps less.

Maria's fingers tightened around the edge of the table.

Alessandro moved his hand onto the paper before Sophia could see her mother's expression.

"Did he speak to you?"

"He didn't see me. He was looking in the cupboard."

"Did he take anything?"

"I don't know. I wanted him to go away."

Maria reached for her daughter. Sophia came willingly, settling into her lap with the automatic trust that almost undid her.

"You can always tell me when someone comes into our home," Maria whispered.

"I thought you knew him."

"You haven't done anything wrong."

Across the table, Alessandro had gone very still. The gentleness remained in his voice when he asked Sophia whether she wanted water. It disappeared from his face when he looked at the drawn ring.

He took out his phone.

"Marco, I need you at Maria's apartment. Come alone."