This is Enzo:
Enzo has a little shop on our corner: wine, smoked salmon, and a small cart stocked with vegetables and fruits from which he often offers Florence a tangerine when we pass.
The other night I was coming home late from a book reading and Enzo and his cart were just closing up for the night. I stopped for a hello and a picture and Enzo grabbed me and pulled me close.
“You, me, piacére,” he said.
“I am sorry,” I replied. “I don’t understand.”
He was persistent, however, over and over, “you, me, piacére.”
I finally pulled myself from his grip and made my way home thinking I really need to work on my Italian.
Ross and I looked up piacére and it means “pleasure” or “delight.”
Somehow, I don’t think Enzo was saying it was nice to see me.
Oh, and Enzo has a partner in his business. His wife.