The Florist of Amalfi – Part 3: Facing the Sea

Luca kept his smile.

"He's very particular about buttonholes," he said lightly. "Coastguard men. Everything must be exact."

The man studied him for a long moment, then picked up the bouquet and turned it in the lamplight. Seven white. One red. On the left.

"Perfect," he said, and left.

Luca locked the door and leaned against it, his heart pounding, and called Marco.

The wedding took place at noon in a cliffside chapel, the sea spread out below in glittering blue. Giada looked radiant. The Ricci family filled the front pews.

As the bride turned toward the sea, holding her bouquet, Luca watched from the back of the chapel. And far out on the water, he saw a small grey boat begin to move toward the harbour.

But Marco was ready. Two coastguard patrol boats slid out from behind the headland and closed in. By the time the vows were finished, the grey boat had been stopped, and its crew were talking.

It took a week for the full story to come out. The Ricci family business had been using stolen boats to move goods along the coast for years. The groom, it turned out, had known nothing. He chose Giada over his family and testified against them.

A month later, Luca was closing his shop at sunset when Marco appeared at the door. Out of uniform for once, in a plain white shirt. Holding, a little awkwardly, a single sprig of jasmine.

"I've been told," he said, "that flowers can carry messages."

Luca laughed softly. "And what does this one say?"

Marco looked at him, then at the sea, then back.

"Have dinner with me."

Luca took the jasmine and tucked it into his own buttonhole.

"The answer," he said, "is yes."

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Next: Silk Thread, Jaipur, a sari that is two hundred years old and a knot that tells the truth.