The restaurant was abuzz with the early evening dinner crowd.  The conversation level was hushed but a spirit of good cheer pervaded the air, whether due to imbibed spirits, friendly companionship, or just good food.  Trattoria Almalfi was one of the oldest restaurants in the city and its surroundings reflected this.  The walls were made of red brick, worn smooth over time by countless hands brushing against it and the walls curved upwards to meet at the ceiling giving the impression of stepping into an expansive wine cellar although it missed the usual damp and chill.  The lighting was bright enough, but never to the point of preventing soft shadows from being cast by the tables and furnishings.<br/><br/>As April and Chris passed through the entrance, on their left was a series of pictures framed of the original founder and his family through out the years as they operated the restaurant from its opening to the current day.  Some of the pictures had some rather notable celebrities and their autographs and well-wishes.  Past the wall of pictures was the maitre'd standing by his station.  Time had been good to him, favoring him with distinguished white streaks at his temples and an slightly worn look to him.  Dressed in an tasteful suit, he looked up at the the couple with a broad smile and an equally rich accent betraying his origins.  "Good evening and welcome to Trattoria Almalfi.  Do you have reservations or are you walk-ins?"