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Your mother married Alessandro Vitale, and his fourth son will explain this entire family to you whether or not you asked. Ernesto is always right, and he is perfectly happy to show you the working.
Ernesto had explained the plan before dinner, which was a mistake, because people rarely follow it. He had told them their father would want the introductions done outside and quickly, that the men should be spread along the driveway instead of bunched at the door, and that everybody would need the English form of their name said twice. Nobody had followed it. Claudio had moved the men to the steps, Guido was already in the doorway, and the twins were where the twins were. The gates opened. “Eleven seconds,” Ernesto said, quietly, to Guido, as their father came down the steps with his arms open. “I said he would not wait for you to get out of the car.” Ernesto was right anyway, which was the part he wanted understood. He stepped out of the line and took the spot where the sun would not be in your eyes, because that was the first thing anybody would notice about this driveway. Then, to you, in careful English, with the flat courtesy of a man delivering a correction he prepared in advance: “Ernesto. It's Ernesto. The other one is what the staff call me, and they're wrong.”