know what I wanted to study. Two weeks after we got to Florence, the family sat me down. I sensed they were worried about me, and they said they thought I might have been suffering from depression.”
Vincenzo reached for one of her hands and kissed the palm.
“They told me I should attend cooking school. If I didn’t like it, I didn’t have to keep going. But since I’d already learned how to cook by watching Mamma, I’d be way ahead of the other students applying there.
“It sounded horrible to me, but everything sounded horrible back then.” Her eyes stung with tears. “I’d lost all my friends.”
“That’s exactly how I felt when I arrived in New York,” he whispered.
“Oh, Vincenzo—” She tried not to cry. “Over the years Mamma had saved a little money, but not enough to go toward my schooling. Yet I never felt deprived.”
“You were loved, and that kind of wise frugality puts the sins my father and uncle committed to shame. Now keep telling me how you became a cook.”
“So my aunt who runs the bakery knew someone in the administration at the Epicurean School, and I was given a scholarship. When she said that it was close enough for me to take the bus there, I realized they were all telling me I had to go and try it. I knew it was what my mother wanted. She’d sacrificed everything for me, so I did it.”
“Did you hate it in the beginning?”
“No.”
He smiled. “That’s interesting.”
“It was a surprise to my family, too. On the first day I met a girl named Filippa Gatti, who was from Florence. She reminded me of Bianca, and we became friends right away. She said she was tired of academic studies and wanted to do something different. After buying an expensive slice of ricotta cheese pie that tasted nasty, she thought, ‘Why not be a pastry cook? Anyone could cook better than this!’”
“Why not?” Vincenzo laughed.
“With so many classes together, we hit it off, hating some of the teachers, loving others.”
“You mean the same way Dimi and I felt about our tutors.”
“Exactly.”
“I’d like to meet her one day.”
“She’d pass out if she ever met you.”
“Ouch.”
Gemma chuckled. “You know what I mean. There’s no man like you around anywhere.” He kissed her again. “She helped me deal with my pain over losing you, and our friendship got me through those nine years as an apprentice.”
“I’m glad you have her in your life.”
“So am I. You’d love her. She’s darling, with black hair like yours and the most amazing sapphire-blue eyes. She’s fun and so smart. After work we’d go to movies and eat dinner out and shop. Sometimes we took little trips along the Ligurian coastline. We’d visit lots of restaurants and check out the food.”
He grinned. “Were there any good ones?”
“I found out you can’t get a bad meal in Italy, but we determined to invent some fabulous dishes that would become famous someday. The truth is, Mamma was the creator in our family, better than my aunt or my grandmother and great-grandmother, who started the bakery. All I could do was try to match her expertise.”
“You’ve succeeded, Gemma. Is Filippa as good a cook as you?”
“Much better, and that’s the truth. She’s innovative, you know?”
“I saw your résumé. You were named the top student in your class.”
“That’s because Signora Gallo, the woman on the board, loved my aunt and knew it would make her happy to give her niece the top ranking. It should have been Filippa.”
“Where is she now?”
“In Canada, applying for a pastry chef position in Ottawa.”
“Could you have applied there?”
“Yes, but I wanted a position in France. That is, until I saw the opening advertised at the castello.”
“It was our luck we got you first. Finders, keepers. Cesare believes you applied for the position because it was meant to be. But I hope your friend gets what she wants.”
“Me too. She always wanted to work at a restaurant in New York City and be written up in some glossy magazine as Italy’s greatest cooking sensation. I’m kidding. She never said that, but I know she wanted to work in New York. In time I know she will, and I hope she becomes famous.”
“I could put in a good word for her with Cesare. He owns an excellent restaurant chain.”
She put her fingers to his lips. “No favors. We’re going to be ordinary people right now, remember? But thank you for being so kind and generous.”
“Gemma...an ordinary person can recommend someone for a job without being a duca.”
“You don’t know Filippa. She’s intensely proud. The only way she would take a job would be for her to prove she’s the very best at what she does. To be given a chance through a friend wouldn’t go down with her at all.”
“Sounds like your soul mate.”
“Vincenzo—”
“Does she have a boyfriend who’s going to miss her?”
“She had one. He let her down in a big way, but she’s over the worst of it now.”
“That’s good. Now come here and let me kiss you the way I’ve been wanting to. We’ve talked long enough.”
“I don’t dare.”
“Then will you do me a favor and turn on your other side? I can’t promise not to reach out for you during the night. I have no idea what I do in my sleep.”
“Then we’re both in trouble. Buonanotte, Vincenzo. I’ve had the most wonderful day of my life.”
“Guess what? We have two weeks of wonderful days and nights ahead. Tomorrow I thought we’d fly to the island of Mykonos.”
“You’re joking. Aren’t you?”
“Is that excitement I hear in your voice?”
“Yes! I’ve never been to Greece.”
“Neither have I. Ironic, isn’t it? I’ve traveled all over North and South America, parts of Asia. I’ve been to many of the states in the US—Hawaii, Alaska—and I know New York City like the back of my hand. But the rest of my education is still lacking.”
“So is mine,” Gemma murmured after she’d taken in what he’d just told her about his travels.
“Both
