Adriana Trigiani - Brava, Valentine

“My mother is an only child also,” I say.

“My father would have loved to know her. He used to complain that he had no cousins-he longed for a big family.”

“My mother would have liked that very much, too.” My sisters and I always say that my mother had a big family because she was an only child. I imagine the same to be true for her first cousin. Everyone, it seems, tries to create what they don’t have, or what they believe they’ve missed, hoping it will fill them up.

“Did your mother take over the shoe shop?” Roberta asks.

“No, not at all. My mother raised a family-I’m one of four.”

“So how did you come to work in the shop?”

“My grandmother and grandfather took the shop over from Michel after he died. When my grandfather died, Gram operated the business alone until I became her apprentice six years ago. She got married again this year and moved to Italy.”

“Are you the only shoemaker?”

“I was, and now my brother Alfred has come into the business.”

“Do you like to work with your brother?”

“At first I wasn’t sure. For so long, it was just my grandmother and me, and our pattern cutter in the shop. Her name is June, and she’s the best. It took some adjusting when Alfred joined the team. But now we accommodate one another.”

“Sometimes a company needs to change. My father loved the art of making shoes by hand, but he also wanted to make money. It wasn’t enough to make a quota each year of custom shoes. My father saw that there was no way to make a profit when the number of shoes you could build a year was so limited. So he convinced my grandfather to go into machine production. Together, they ran the mill I operate now.” She smiles. “We do well at the factory, but even better in La Boca real estate. This complex is owned by our family. We rent out all the houses you see here.”

Even our fundamental family investment strategies are the same-we anchor the business with real estate: we own the building on Perry Street, and here, the Angelinis own the housing complex in La Boca.

Lupe joins us at the table. She refills our glasses before she pours her own.

“Mama, tell Valentine what you know about Rafael before he came to Buenos Aires.”

“There are many stories. These come from my father-in-law who heard them from his own father.” She sits down. “Rafael had a brother named Michel. I was told that Michel had a hard life. He was widowed young and had a child.”

“That was my grandfather.”

“The story goes that Michel could not bear to stay in the village where his wife had lived in Italy-”

“Arezzo.”

“That’s right. So Michel begged Rafael to go with him to America, to begin again. The plan was to open a shoe shop together, and raise your grandfather.”

“This part of the story is exactly as I know it, except I did not know about Rafael,” I say.

“It is understandable,” Lupe says. “Because there was an argument and then an estrangement, which left Rafael to leave New York for Argentina.”

“I told Valentine all about Lucretzia,” Roberta says.

“When Rafael decided to marry Lucretzia and leave for good, he asked Michel for his money. You see,” Lupe continues, “the brothers sold their building in Italy, split the money, and then moved to the United States to start over. They were partners.”

“Michel paid Rafael part of the money, but there was a balance on what Michel owed. Your great-grandfather sent money to his brother for a few years after he moved here with his wife, until the debt was paid off,” Roberta explains.

“But it didn’t heal the rift between the brothers, once the debt was paid?” I ask.

“It might have, but Michel did not accept Lucretzia. So Rafael never reconciled with Michel. He was forced to choose his wife over his brother.” Roberta shrugs. “And for both families, it was as if the other side never existed.”

The three of us sit in silence for a moment. We contemplate the loss we’ve shared, the years we’ve missed, and the opportunities to have the big, close family that my mother and her first cousin dreamed about. I hope it’s not too late to try and salvage what’s left, but Roberta would have to meet me halfway. “I’m here in the hopes that we can do business together.”

“I understand your goal,” Roberta says. “But I have only made men’s shoes in the factory.”

“Well, maybe it’s time to expand and make women’s shoes also. I couldn’t help but notice that your operators are very adaptable. In the two days I’ve been observing, they have assembled three different styles. Now, one of those styles was incredibly complex-”

“The Ermenegildo -”

“That one. I won’t saddle you with a difficult shoe. In fact, watching your operators inspired me to simplify my design. If you would look at my samples-”

“Did you bring them with you?” Roberta asks.

“Yes. I have three prototypes to show you.” I open my bag and give her the shoes.

Roberta looks at them, examining them like the seasoned shoemaker she is. She looks at the lay of the leather, the strength of the seams, she feels the interior of the shoe, then bends the flat to see how the leather responds to movement. Then she pulls the sides from the vamp, to check for gaps and elasticity. She hands the samples to Lupe, who does the same.

“This is a beautiful shoe. Very simple,” Roberta says.

“Thank you. The design can take many materials-in fact, you could suggest materials you think would work. I like microfiber.”

“I have a fiber material, a stand-in for suede-it’s brand-new. It was developed here in the city by a textile designer who wanted to come up with a replacement for suede that mimics animal hide. It has give and is also supple. Very durable-especially for a flat shoe. And I’m working with color-it takes dye beautifully.”

“I would love to see it,” I tell her.

“What is a practical first run for you? What can you afford?”

“We can finance an initial run of ten thousand shoes,” I tell her. “But my brother has been soliciting from China.”

“I’ve lost a great deal of business to the Chinese,” Roberta says.

“This isn’t a competition. The costs need to be close-I won’t lie to you. I can’t give you this contract for more than the Chinese bid. But this is where my heart is. This is historically a family company, and if I can, I’d like to keep it in our family.”

“You want to make amends for Michel.”

I sit back in my chair. “I don’t think that would be possible. It’s also unfair to expect me to make a situation right that I did not have a hand in.”

“Fair enough,” she says. “I don’t hold you responsible for what happened. But you must understand, in your family’s view, we disappeared. It’s difficult to embrace a family that abandoned us so long ago.”

“Roberta, to be fair, you could have contacted us ,” I say. “But that’s behind us. I’m here now , Roberta, as Michel’s heir, and I’m ready to move forward with you-if you want. Think about it. We could start fresh. A new beginning. Maybe the legacy of Rafael and Michel works better with a couple of generations in between for cushion.”

Roberta laughs. “That could be.”

“I’m almost an expert in dealing with family now. I had to make huge adjustments quickly when Alfred joined the company.”

“What is he like?”

“Well, that’s a long story and requires several cocktails, and as delicious as this lemonade is, it won’t ease the pain of the details.”

She laughs again. “I see. He’s a difficult one.”

“Exactly. But he’s also very smart and forward-thinking. He’s in charge of the bids and the financials. Alfred has a breakdown of the costs and the comparables, and also, we could sweeten the deal by doing the finishing in New York.”