Frankie stared at it. "So, someone thanked me for the job I did?"

"He's pretty generous too, gave me a tip. But he seems like he's in the wrong part of town. At least from his dress, feels like he's about to go and attend his own wedding."

"He does seem like an interesting man to talk to," he said. "I don't even think he's from around here."

"Does he have airs on? Like if he belonged to the rich?"

"Yes and no, he never once ignored me. In fact, he always thanked me."  

It did interest Frankie. It was a rainy day and that meant fewer customers. He sighed, another slow day on its own. But good weather probably couldn't save his family's problems of debt. 

A slow day indeed, as he glanced from the top. This stranger did interest him. And he did have a reason to go out of the kitchen. Most of the preparation was done and they were planning to close up shop. 

He went out, curious to see just who it was. 

He was well-dressed, Frankie could tell. He was wearing better than what most men could afford on their wedding days. A necktie that wasn't quite one, with a full blown tuxedo. Or even more formal than that. 

He had finished his meal a while ago, while holding a glass of red wine with an entire bottle. 

"Are you the cook?" He asked.

"What makes you think that?" Frankie asked. 

"A hunch," he said. "Since I don't see you outside once until after the crowd, I'm guessing." 

"Are you lost from town?"

"I am, I wouldn't lie. I'm not from around here."

"I can tell, I doubt that you even grew up anywhere in America."

"That would be correct. I have business here to settle, and I got lost here. Not the first time I'm making it out on my own, though English is a hard language."

He looked like he was from Italy, his dark hair and eyes. 

"You speak quite well, Signore." Frankie smiled, impressed by the other man’s syntax. He sounded refined and thoughtful.

“So where are you from? Which part of Italy?” Frankie raises his eyebrows - he hopes he made the right assumption. The man did feel distinctly Italian - maybe not Sicilian, but Italian nonetheless. 

"Rome. My family was scattered all over the map. But we moved to Rome when the unification was complete." 

“Ah, I see.” A warm smile slowly spreads across Frankie’s face. He continues in Sicilian-accented Standard Italian, “That makes sense. Well, I wonder - can you guess where my parents were from? Most people can guess once they hear me speak Standard - it’s blindingly obvious, one man said!” He grins, remembering how that conversation had gone.