I thanked my sister-in-law. As soon as the stores opened this afternoon, I went to the closer of the two shops. I poured out my tale of pathos and sorrow to the kindly-looking, plump, middle-aged woman behind the counter. And -- as I calculated -- she took pity on me. She called to her husband, the artisan, working in the back. He too had a pleasant face, a compassionate face. He inspected the bracelet. “E un lavoro lunghetto, signora,” he sighed. It’s a long job, madam.
“Well, just do a quick fix job and I’ll bring it back when I return for a better one,” I bargained. “No, with something like this, you have to do it right the first time,” he explained patiently. “Or you risk losing another link. But let me see what I can do.”
