FOURTEEN

“WELL, that was interesting,” I said, taking a much-needed breath of cool autumn air.

“Poor Sophia.” Matt shook his head. “I haven’t seen her in years, but I remember her as such a sweet kid. It sounds like she married a complete jackass.”

“Hum,” I said.

“Hum?” he echoed. “What’s that supposed to mean? You and I had rough patches, but we never sounded like that.”

“Sorry, but that’s exactly how we sounded.”

Matt grimaced at the thought, but rather than open a hermetically sealed can of petrified worms, he pushed through the stout iron gate and walked down the cobblestone alley.

A spiral staircase led up to Gus’s second-story office, over the jewelry store. But that wasn’t our destination. Instead, I followed Matt along the cobblestones, only to have my breath stolen again, this time by the splendor of a hidden treasure in the middle of Manhattan.

Nestled among the four-story buildings was a placid courtyard, completely buffered from any noise on New York’s streets and sidewalks. A fountain’s spray sparkled like diamonds in the noonday sun, and little brown mourning doves cooed among the ornamental shrubs and trees.

Lampposts topped with crystal bell fixtures marked each corner of this idyllic yard, and I could easily imagine their beauty at night, with the bell-shaped glass glowing golden.

On the far side of that magical space stood the Campana family home.

Even after a hundred and fifty years, the West Village was still dotted with Civil War–era buildings hidden from view—sheds or stables converted into garages or very small dwellings.

But the home tucked behind the Campana Family Jewelers was a restored example of a pre–Civil War “backhouse”—a hidden property built behind a main structure before building codes were put into place to prevent overcrowding.

Backhouses were commissioned by the wealthy to preserve their privacy and quietude in the busy urban landscape, and both wealth and taste were reflected in the white brick facade; the tall, arched windows; and the clean white balconies overlooking the courtyard.

Wide marble steps led to the white front door, the golden Campana bell once again embossed at the center. And on the doorstep, a smiling Gustavo Campana waved to us.