If my reckoning is correct, he's in his late seventies. I got to know him through one of my friends who recognized him as a former co-worker. Tony was grateful that he wasn't forgotten.
He's cut from a different stock, then the rest of us; he's an old gentleman. On our best days, we're merely polite. He served in the second of the World Wars.
He called to me on the street the other day and asked what I had paid for those cannolis. I am horrible with prices at times, but surprisingly I remembered that I paid eighteen bucks for a half dozen. I did the math out loud.
"That's a lotta money, Timmy," he said with a grandfatherly look and he somehow seemed to be looking down on me even though I'm at least a head taller than him.
He also thinks I shouldn't be patronizing my regular place anymore. He keeps telling me of better deals a block and a half away. He's equally unhappy with the staffing changes. Tony was the reason I was Danielle's second favorite.
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