by Amanda Usen
“Nonna?” Olivia asked. “Would you like to help me make dinner?”
“It will be my pleasure, cara. Believe it or not, it will be the first time I’ve had the opportunity to cook for Benito.” The misty expression on Nonna’s face reminded her of the pleasure she had felt when cooking for Sean. Her heart clenched.
“Where is Big Daddy, anyway?”
“With your father. They get along like a house on fire. Benito has been a long time away from wine. He’s missed it,” she said.
Olivia wasn’t sure she felt quite as forgiving as her grandmother. She was still a little peeved at Big Daddy for his behavior at the beginning of the summer and her grandmother’s story hadn’t improved her opinion of him, but for Nonna’s sake, she would try. “Let’s make him a welcome home dinner. I’ll check the walk-in and see what we’ve got to work with.” Olivia stepped into the cooler, wondering where Sean had gone. She was glad he had left out the back door and not through the front door with his suitcase.
She forced herself to turn her thoughts to dinner. As she stared at the shelves, she couldn’t breathe. Her throat began to tighten. Was she still reacting to the strawberries? No, this felt different, more like how she had felt her last day at Chameleon and the way she had felt earlier in the bedroom.
She forced her mind to clear. She would think about a menu when the dizziness went away. Her anxiety spiked. Deliberately, she thought about cooking dinner for the villa guests. Her head began to spin.
What the hell was wrong with her? Marlene had agreed to buy Chameleon, and her mother was fine with it. She should be thrilled. She was finally free, or at least, she would have been free if she hadn’t agreed to work at Villa Farfalla, an even larger and more complicated operation than Chameleon. She wheezed.
Oh God, she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t stay at Villa Farfalla.
She leaned her forehead against the cool shelf.
Leaving Norton, she had feared she’d lost her love of cooking, but the last week had proved otherwise. She had enjoyed making the fennel soup, the pumpkin crème brûlée and all the other foods. The cooking class had gotten off to a rocky start, but she’d pulled it off and been proud of her students and the results of their work. She still liked to cook, but she didn’t want to cook at Chameleon, and clearly she didn’t want to cook here.
For just a minute, she let it all fall away, the guilt, the responsibility, the disappointment, even her mother’s expectations. If she could do anything she wanted, anywhere she wanted, what would she do? Where would she go?
She would do this. In Norton. With Sean.
The answer was as simple as it was impossible, but thinking about how to make it happen didn’t fill her with anxiety; it filled her with determination.
She lifted her head. She could do this. She focused on the ingredients on the shelf in front of her, and as a menu took shape in her head, a plan took shape in her heart.
***
Olivia wasn’t surprised when Marlene and Joe wandered back to the kitchen. She put them to work, although she assigned herself the most intricate tasks, hoping to keep her mind occupied with something other than Sean. It worked for a while. Unfortunately, making cazunzièi was like riding a bike and the ravioli flew from her fingers faster than they had when she was a child, which left her mind free to obsess.
She hungered for the sight of him.
Her mother joined her at the table, forcing Olivia’s mind back to her work. They took turns filling and rolling the dough in companionable silence. The ravioli army on the table increased its ranks. Her father’s question from earlier in the week floated back to her. What’s the worst thing that would happen if you disappointed her? Her mother didn’t mind selling Chameleon because Olivia had agreed to work at Villa Farfalla. How would she feel if Olivia told her she wanted to go back to Norton?
“Mamma—”
“Cara—” They spoke at the same time.
“You go first,” her mother said.
Olivia nodded. “I’ve had a lot of time to think this week, Mamma. I know you want me to stay here in Italy and help you with the villa, but I want to go home to Norton. I’m excited by the idea of cooking again, and I want to find a job where I can be creative.” Joy arced inside her.
“Creative?” Her mother gestured at the pasta on the table in front of them. “You can create anything you want here at the villa.”
Olivia gazed steadily at her mother. “I appreciate everything you and Papà have given me, everything you have done for me, but this time, I need to do it myself. I need to know I can. I’ve always said yes to you, Mamma, always. I went to business school, culinary school, ran Chameleon—I saw it as my duty. So when you asked me to stay at Villa Farfalla, I said yes. But I can’t do it. It makes me feel like I’m choking.”
“Choking! You did that to yourself with the strawberries.”
“After I agreed to stay and work at the villa.”
Her mother gasped. “You risked your life to avoid staying here?”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “Now who’s being dramatic? No, of course not. I was just…trying to run from my troubles again.” They had never discussed her divorce, mostly because Olivia felt that was the biggest way she had disappointed her mother. It was time to get that out in the open too. “Being married to Keith was hell, Mamma. I lost my confidence, my faith in myself. It’s a lot easier to follow than it is to lead. I need to do this. I need to make my own way now.”
“I guess that means no Alessandro then.” Her mother sighed. “I knew it was too good to be true.”
“Definitely no Alessandro.”
“And Sean?”
It was Olivia’s turn to sigh. “That remains to be seen. I hope so.”
“I guess I’ll have to tell him he can stay, then.” She heard a catch in her mother’s voice and looked up to see tears rolling down her cheeks. She felt like the worst daughter ever. “Mamma! Please don’t cry.”
Her mother wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m crying because I’m proud of you.”
“You are?” Olivia held her breath, afraid she had misunderstood.
“Of course I am!” Her mom enfolded her in a floury hug. “You are everything I ever wanted in a daughter.”
“I am?” The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Her mother squeezed her harder. “Yes, of course. So much like me but better. You’ve been such a help this week and I’ll miss you, but I know it’s selfish to want you to stay. I can’t blame you for wanting to spread your wings, mia bella farfalla. You can do anything. You never cease to amaze me.” She clutched her mother, fighting tears. She had waited her entire life to hear those words and, better yet, believe them.
Her mother gave her another squeeze then turned her attention to the pasta again. Olivia began to fill the dough, amazed by the turn of events. Once again, she’d had too little faith in someone else, too little faith in herself.
When all of the pasta was filled, trayed and frozen, her mother took off her apron and held out her hand for Olivia’s apron too. “Thank you, my darling daughter.”
Olivia hugged her mother. “Glad to help,” she said, meaning it.
Her mother handed her a bowl of olives and a platter of cheese. Together, they moved toward the dining room to serve the antipasto. From across the room, she heard her mother share the news with her father. His smile was sweet as he gave her a simple nod. She bit her lip and blinked away tears as Mrs. Russo handed her a glass of wine.
“I’m glad to see you are feeling better,” she said.
Olivia nodded. “Much better, thank you.”
Mrs. Russo cleared her throat. “I couldn’t help but overhear your mother talking about your new plans, and I was wondering whether you might welcome a business partner. I love what your mother has done here
at Villa Farfalla and I believe we could do something similar in Norton on the Niagara Wine Trail. A bed and breakfast, perhaps?”
Mr. Russo joined them. “Finding another way to spend my money?” His voice was gruff, but he took his wife’s hand and gave her a tender smile.
“I don’t know what to say,” Olivia stammered.
“You would be full partner, of course, but I would handle all of the pesky business details. It’s what I usually do for my husband, but I’ve decided I need a project of my own.”
Mr. Russo’s expression was mournful as he let loose a gusty sigh.
“Hush, dear. It will be good for you.” His wife patted his hand. “Please think about my offer. Chameleon has always been my favorite restaurant, and I would love to work with you.” Olivia watched them walk toward the table, still holding hands. She already knew what her answer would be.
Her nerves were on edge throughout the simple feast of prosciutto, late-summer melon, cazunzièi with radicchio, and mullet with sea salt and olive oil as she waited for Sean to return. By the time she left the table to get the hazelnut cookies for dolci, she was wound tight as a spring. She gave the kitchen door a shove and sailed into the dish room.
Alessandro and Marco broke apart, panting.
The door swung shut behind her.
Alessandro’s cheeks were pink and his lips were swollen. Marco’s hair was finger-mussed. She considered reversing course for the dining room and walking around the villa to get to the lower kitchen but decided to brazen it out. She might as well get the awkwardness over with. It wasn’t like she could pretend she hadn’t seen them making out.
She walked past them to the trestle table and grabbed the two trays of cookies she had prepared earlier. Marco winked at her as she paused next to them. Alessandro looked stricken. “Olivia—”
“Thank you for saving my life, Chef Alessandro,” she said. “I’m glad you were there to rescue me from my stupidity.”
“You’re welcome.” He nodded, looking uncertain.
“As you were, gentlemen.” She continued into the dining room and placed one tray of cookies on the dining room table, where her father and Big Daddy were deep in discussion. She took the other tray into the salon where Marlene and Joe were organizing a poker game with the Americans. Gia had left halfway through dinner to get ready for her date with Vincenzo, and the other guests had gone into the village. Both of the Russos were absent now too.
“Texas Hold’em. You in?” Marlene asked.
Olivia shook her head and grabbed a handful of cookies. She walked out the front door to the porch and found Gia sitting on a lounge chair, drinking a glass of wine.
“You’re all dressed up,” Olivia observed.
“We’re going to a club.”
Olivia sat down in the chair next to her, pondering. “You could have told me Alessandro was gay, you know.” He probably wouldn’t mention marriage again, which was a relief. Homosexuality wasn’t a deal breaker, but the fact that she was still in love with Sean was a problem.
“I would have told you before you married him.” Gia shot her a sideways grin and sipped her wine. “I guess I should probably mention that Sean was hiding in the tasting room all afternoon.”
“Do you know where he is now?”
A look of irritation crossed Gia’s face. “He went into the village to have dinner with his brother.”
“Colin?” Olivia exclaimed.
Gia nodded. “He arrived late last night after your…incident.”
Which meant Colin wasn’t in jail, thank God. “Are they coming back to the villa?”
Gia nodded again. “He said they would be back after dinner.”
God, she hoped Nonna was right and that Sean had come back to Verona because he loved her too. She grew cold remembering what he had said about prioritizing work and family over personal relationships, but then she grew warm thinking of how right it had been between them. They fit together. They clicked. She wasn’t looking for a Romeo to rescue her anymore. She was looking for a partner, someone to stand by her side facing the future, and this time, she wasn’t going to let him go without a fight.
A taxi pulled into the driveway, and her heart began to race. She clutched Gia’s hand and pulled her to her feet. They watched Sean climb out of the back, followed by a younger man who had to be Colin because he looked just like Sean with longer hair. When he got closer, she saw his eyes were blue, not gray, and one of them was slightly swollen. He gazed admiringly at Gia, who blatantly ignored him. Why was her usually friendly cousin being so rude?
Colin reached across Giovanna to hold out his hand. “Colin Kindred. Nice to meet you.”
Barely able to stifle a laugh at the strangled expression on Gia’s face and the way she looked frozen in place while Colin looked easy as a Sunday morning, Olivia shook his hand. “Nice to meet you too. I’m Olivia Marconi.”
“I figured.”
A black car pulled into the driveway and Gia handed Olivia her wineglass. “That’s Vincenzo. Ciao!” Olivia nodded and watched her cousin go, amazed by her ability to walk so swiftly in high heels.
“She’s just playing hard to get,” Colin said, making Olivia laugh. She could definitely see why Sean thought his brother was worth saving. She looked from him to Sean, forcing herself to keep her head high, even as the gunmetal gray of his eyes and his sober expression reminded her of the way he had looked packing his bag to leave.
The sudden sound of sirens split the night. Olivia turned to look down the driveway and saw the flashing blue lights of several dark blue Italian police cars in the lane.
A door slammed. She heard her cousin scream. She turned her head and saw Vincenzo trying to force Gia into his car.
“Hey!” Olivia shouted and took off at a run with Sean and Colin close behind her.
Chapter 24
“Alt!” Big Daddy’s gravelly voice broke through the bedlam.
Sean kept running. He had no clue what was going on, but Gia was not getting into that car. He grabbed Vincenzo by the shoulder and flipped him around, leaving his two goons to Colin and, hopefully, the police, who had surrounded them and were pouring out of their cars.
Vincenzo reached for his pocket, but two police officers stepped between them, bent him over the car, and cuffed his wrists.
“Vincenzo? What the hell is going on?” Gia took several furious steps toward him, but stopped when the carabinieri gave her a warning look. Sean felt a rush of sympathy. It looked like she had another bad boy to add to her list.
“Please get that scum out of here,” Big Daddy said to the carabinieri, who had already cuffed the other men. They led them to three separate police cars and thrust them into the back.
The villa guests had rushed outside and lined the porch. Alessandro stood slightly in front of them, looking stunned. Olivia put her arm around her cousin, and Sean followed them back to the porch.
Big Daddy joined them when the last police car left the driveway. “Vincenzo Ferrari has caused enough trouble at Villa Farfalla.” He nodded at Mr. and Mrs. Marconi. “Lucia told me you’ve been having trouble with your credit.” Mrs. Marconi nodded. “Had any broken or missing equipment?” he asked, and she nodded again. “Your troubles are over now, I’m sure. Vincenzo has a lot to answer for in Verona. I did some digging and made sure the carabinieri were aware of every one of his illegal activities.” He looked at Alessandro. “Nobody messes with a Capozzi, eh?”
“I’m not a Capozzi.” The chef’s voice was filled with scorn.
“Oh no?” Big Daddy asked. “Who are you, then?”
“I am Alessandro Conti.”
Suddenly, it clicked. Sean looked at Alessandro. “You’re the Conti grandson, aren’t you? The one who ran away.”
Alessandro looked down his thin nose. “I didn’t run away. I was sent
. My grandmother had no use for me.” His words were sharp but the anger behind them was dull, as if years had blunted its edge. “I had been raised in the fields and my world revolved around the grapes. All I cared about was the Amarone,” he said bitterly. “But my grandmother didn’t want me. She never wanted me, and she didn’t want me to have anything of hers either. As the last of the Contis, the only thing I bear is the name. She sold my birthright to the Marconis, and a job in the kitchen is as close as I can get to coming home.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone who you were? Why keep it a secret?” Sean asked.
Alessandro shrugged. “I was afraid to be sent away again.”
Olivia moved to join them. “Then why didn’t you do something to stop your grandmother from selling the villa before she died? Didn’t she know you wanted it?” Sean knew the answer from Gia’s story, but he kept silent, waiting to see what Alessandro would say
“I wasn’t here.” Alessandro’s smile was bitter. “I lived in Greece, then in Rome. I worked in Paris for a year as a waiter in a café. As I told you, I am no chef. All the while I was away, I ached for Verona. I couldn’t forget the vines, and I didn’t want the name of Conti to be forgotten.”
Nonna Lucia stepped forward. “I knew you, Alessandro Conti. I knew you from the minute you appeared at the door asking for a job in the kitchen.” She raised her chin to look into his face, now mottled with color on his high cheekbones. “You are not the only one to hate your grandmother. I swore I would not return to Verona unless it was over Sofia’s dead body.”
Sean was shocked by the cold, uncompromising tone of Nonna’s voice. Next to him, Olivia sucked in a sharp breath. Big Daddy flinched too.
“Oh, child, I hated Sofia Conti until the last breath left her body. Almost.” Nonna dropped her head, and when she raised it, she looked at her granddaughter. Olivia’s hand crept into Sean’s and squeezed it so tightly it hurt. It gave him hope. “We left Norton because I had to come back here to see Sofia. She called me home, and I could not deny her because she was dying.”
“You talked to her?” Alessandro’s face was bleak and frozen.