Chapter 23

“He was a sad man, longing for something, my father. I think he always felt closer to himself when he was cooking.” There was a wistful note in Dock’s voice.

“Tomatoes,” he continued, “are what this is all about.”

There was the sharp sound of a knife chopping just below the melody of the music that rose and fell with the rhythm of Dock’s knife. The air filled with the scent of tomato.

“Smell this,” Dock said, his voice close to Leo’s ears.

Leo inhaled the sunny scent of tomato and something else, green and memorable. Leo imagined bright gardens and tomatoes growing heavy on the vine.