Uncle Sal sits back down, and Uncle Michael shakes his head. “Heating it up in the kitchen? Is that the best you could come up with?”

“Well, let’s see what you’ve got,” Uncle Sal answers.

Uncle Michael makes a big production of getting a rag and wiping away the already clean space below the black line. Then he stares at the blank surface, his fist sitting under his chin as if he’s in deep thought.

“Get on with it, Michael,” Nonna says from her chair.

He writes each letter so slowly I want to groan with impatience. Finally, he steps away, looking very pleased with himself.

“I know who I’m voting for!” Aunt Camille shouts.