My mind calmed down somewhat and I remembered Cassie and Gabi scribbling down the names of two restaurants looking for help and remembered they’d shoved the piece of paper into my purse even though I’d said I wasn’t interested. I rummaged through my purse until my hand touched the paper. I checked the time on my watch. It was still early enough for me to visit them, and what better time than right now before I weakened and changed my mind? I decided now was the time, even though I didn’t have an appointment. Everyone knew the Pirellis and Charlie Johnson, Cassie’s former boss and family friend, so I knew mentioning their names would at least get me through the door.
The first restaurant was Café Rudolfo’s. I entered the small foyer with a vacant reception area. Looking around to see if there was someone I could talk to, I made my way to the dining room and peeked inside. It was small and inviting. The tables were covered with pale pink tablecloths, the table settings were formal, and the waiters wore tuxedos, an indication this was considered a fine-dining restaurant—right up my alley. But seeing the kitchen was key to whether it was a place I wanted to work. I watched as one of the waiters prepared a dish tableside.
“Can I help you ma’am?” a voice jerked me from my enjoyment.
“Oh, hi. I’m Jamie Burke,” I said, extending my hand. “Charlie Johnson and the Pirellis told me you’re looking for help in the kitchen.”
He returned the handshake. “I’m the owner, Rudolfo, and yes, we are. We’re looking for a sous chef. How much experience do you have?”
I filled in the details and waited for him to finish talking. “Can I see the kitchen?”
“Certainly. Let’s go in there right now.”
As we neared the kitchen door, a loud banging sound echoed. Rudolfo’s face suddenly showed signs of irritation. He pushed the doors open and stopped, stunned by what we saw. One of the line cooks was banging a pot on the counter in a fit of anger. I did an about-face and headed toward the door. Embarrassed, the owner ran after me apologizing and trying to convince me this was something quite rare. I thanked him and left. There was no way I was interested in getting in the middle of that—I’d already left a job because of one cranky man; I didn’t need another.
Next on the list was Café Michael. It was lunchtime. The nicely appointed restaurant charmed me when I entered. The maître d’ approached. “Is there just one of you for lunch?”
“No, I’m not here to eat.” I grinned. “I’m here to talk to whoever is interviewing for the opening in the kitchen.”
“Hang on for just a minute and I’ll get the owner.” He walked toward the kitchen and I quietly followed behind, hoping to get a glimpse of an unrehearsed life in Michael’s abode. Fortunately for me, it was a good thing I did because I was appalled when I heard one of the workers’ verbal complaints. “Hot dogs again? I’m here two weeks and we’ve had hot dogs every single day.”
The man, who I assumed was the owner, commented, “We have to make cuts everywhere we can, so eat up, my friend, because whatever doesn’t get eaten today, gets eaten tomorrow.”
“But this is a five-star restaurant,” he complained. “I know you can afford to feed us better.” That did it for me. I didn’t need any more information. I wasn’t working for a cheapskate. I sighed from my disappointment. It wasn’t even like I was expecting a gourmet meal for lunch, but good grief. I made a beeline for the door as fast as my feet would carry me.
Back out into the bright sunlight, I wondered if I’d made a mistake. Maybe I should have stayed with Chase. I shook my head. No, I shouldn’t have. I sat down on a bench again and caught my breath, forcing myself to think rationally about my next move when Carlucci’s Bistro came to mind. I had wondered if he was still having trouble with his business. My determination kicked up a notch. I knew I could help him, but was he still angry with me for not getting back to him about renting his kitchen? I walked the few blocks to the restaurant, determined to make him see my stopping in was a good thing.
The minute he saw me, I got the squinty eyes. It was the kind of squint I’d seen on Lucy’s face when she was giving someone the evil eye, a known trait of the older Italians. I didn’t know exactly what it meant, but I knew it wasn’t a good thing. It was like a voodoo curse. Normally, I’d laugh at such things, but this time, I wasn’t so sure given our history.
“And what is it that you want this time?” he said in broken English.
“I wondered if you’d hire me.”
“What are you pazza, in testa?” his finger twirled around in a circle next to his head. “Crazy—you crazy in the head.” He sniggered. “Eh, you come in here and say you want to rent my kitchen, then you leave me high and dry and I have no extra money coming in to pay my bills.” His finger went straight up and he wagged it back and forth. “You no do that to me again.”
“Vito, I’m sorry about that—I really am, but how could I pay to use your kitchen when my business went down the tubes like a sinking ship. I need a job, you need a creative chef, and I thought we could help one another.”
“First, young lady, you never call to say you want or don’t want. Second, if you ruined your business, why do I want to hire you?”
“Well, I mean, it wasn’t like I ruined ruined it; the people just couldn’t afford the service. Besides, you’re located close to my home and I’d never be late, and having a job with a steady income will help me take care of my little girl.” I laid it on big-time hoping to convince him. “So, what do you say?”
“You have a daughter? Are you married?”
“I do”—I grinned—“but no, I’m not married.” I didn’t feel the need to go into detail about how I acquired Bailey, but the words were no sooner out of my mouth than he was making the sign of the cross and punching his fist against his heart while he mumbled something in Latin that I’d seen Lucy Pirelli do a number of times. I guess it was a Catholic thing because she would pound her fist against her chest and look skyward, saying, “Mea culpa.”
A few seconds later, a short Italian woman emerged from the back room. She had beady eyes offset by her round face with a body to match. Her white hair was pulled into a tight bun, and she wore an apron over a blue flowered housedress. She spoke to her son in their native language and together they gave me the squinty-eye thing and made me nervous.
“Did I do something wrong?” They never moved their eyes off of me. “Look, I’ve seen that squinty-eye thing from my friend’s mother, who’s Italian, and I know it’s not a good thing, so why am I getting it? Are you wishing me bad luck because I never called about renting your kitchen?”
“My mother thinks your presence would be the restaurant’s demise.”
“Why does she think that?” I quipped.
“Because you had a baby out of wedlock.”
“Are you kidding me?” It was time to defend myself. “Vito, my sister died and made me guardian of my niece.” The old lady was still sending those sharp daggers my way. I pointed in her direction. “Would you tell her to stop with the squinty-eye thing already before I have a coronary right here?”
His head tilted slightly. “I’m sorry for your loss.” He turned toward his mother and began talking. Her eyes turned in my direction and her face softened slightly. She said something else to him and they both nodded toward me. I wasn’t sure if I needed to run or just stand still and hope whatever it meant would pass over me instead of on me. Seconds later, she pulled out her rosary beads from the deep pockets in her apron and started mumbling as her fingers quickly slid across the beads one by one until she came to the crucifix at the end. She kissed it and tossed it up like she was sending a kiss to God via special delivery. She nodded to me and left the room the same way she’d snaked in.
“Okay, Mama removed the curse from you and said under the circumstances, you can work here. But be warned, if you’re lying about that little girl, she will put the curse back on you.”
“Look, Vito. I’ve had enough bad things happen to me in my lifetime. I don’t need any more. N
ow, if you were so inclined to agree to let me run your kitchen, I really believe I can save your business. But if Mama’s going to be hanging out here giving me the curse all day, she’ll ruin my creativity.”
“If you had something you could show her—”
“I don’t have to prove anything to her. If you don’t believe me, then forget it.”
“Not so fast.”
“Then do you want my help or not?”
“I do.”
“Then it’s settled. Give me a week to get things organized and I’ll start on Sunday to prepare for Monday, but I’ll need to bring Bailey with me so I can get the kitchen set up the way I want.”
“I’m closed on Monday.”
“Nope. Not anymore you’re not.”
“What’s your experience that you’re so sure of yourself?”
“Do you know Ellison’s Fine Dining on Fifth?”
“What about them?”
“That’s where I worked. Call them up and ask about me.”
“Okay. I will, but maybe I start believing you.”
“Thank you. Okay, here’s what I’d like you to do to announce me.”
“I have no money for advertising.”
“I know that. You can write on a sandwich board though, can’t you?” He nodded. “Good, then put the sign by the entrance announcing a five-star chef is taking over the kitchen and we’re open for lunch and dinner on Monday. If I’m going to make this work, I need the exposure. Maybe you could run a special, like two-for-one dessert. I’ll make something fairly inexpensive so we won’t lose a lot of money.” I stared at him waiting for a response.
“You still gonna use Mama’s recipes though, right?”
“Sure, but I might change them a little.”
“No. Mama, she’s not gonna be happy about this,” he said giving me the side-glance.
“Okay, I’ll make it look prettier. How’s that?”
“Okay, Ms. Biga Shot, game on.”
You better run, girl! If Mama Carlucci’s giving you the evil eye—you’re in big trouble. Uh-oh, now that she knows you’re a single parent you’d better keep her away from that Lucy Pirelli before the two of them join forces and really put the spell on you to find a father for the kid. Maybe it’s you who should be saying the rosary. Stop at church on the way home—light some candles. Hey, lighting the candles is to create a little confusion and pray to God that it doesn’t backfire on you. That is, of course, if you really don’t want to get married, but we have a feeling…
All right, well, try to take your mind off this malocchio (evil eye) business and add the oil and butter to a saucepan to sauté the garlic until golden. Add the crushed tomatoes, crushed red pepper, and half of the basil strips. Simmer for ten minutes. Add the half-cup Parmesan cheese; mix thoroughly and simmer for another twenty minutes.
While the sauce is simmering, boil the water and cook penne pasta according to manufacturer’s directions. Cutting the ties with Chase was a good thing—except now you’re feeling guilty because you left him high and dry. Hey, wait a minute! He told you to take a hike. Okay, so his attitude gave you just what you wanted—a reason to work in a restaurant again, but the real reason is because you’re crazy about him. But now, you’ve really nipped it in the bud. So maybe it wasn’t meant to be.
And for God’s sake, don’t be worrying about the two Italian ladies putting the hex on you before it actually happens. Now dump the drained pasta back into the saucepan and get busy with that ladle by adding sauce to the top of it. Toss like a salad to coat the penne.
Pour the penne onto a large serving platter and top with more sauce, sprinkle with Romano cheese and the basil strips before serving—and more hot pepper flakes if you can stand the heat. Makes four to six servings.
“What the heck is wrong with you?” Renee’s voice screeched through the phone as soon as I answered. “You walked out on Chase when he needed you the most?”
“Excuse me? I did no such thing. He asked me to leave.”
“Did you expect him to act any differently with the report he’d gotten from his doctor?”
My emotions erupted like a jet at takeoff, and this time, she was getting it back in spades. “You know what, Renee, I’m done! I never planned to be a nursemaid to a grown man, but you talked me into it. But boy, have I’ve learned a valuable lesson. I don’t need your approval, so I should stop trying because I’m never going to get it. You seem to think it’s your job to run my life, pick out the perfect mate for me, get me married, and I’ll live happily ever after. Oh, and how could I forget this one: I’m not a good mother to Bailey. The fact of the matter is, you’re perfect and I’m not. There are plenty of things I could say about the way you run your life or mother your children, but I don’t. So leave me alone, and we’ll each live our lives the way we want.” I clicked off the call, ready to toss the phone into my purse when it rang again. When I noticed her name flash across the screen, I turned it off and buried it in my purse and stomped toward the subway.
Bailey was sitting on the floor in a circle with the other kids, talking up a storm in a language only three-year-olds understand, when I entered the classroom. She stood when she spotted me and ran over, throwing her arms around my legs before I’d had a chance to stoop down. “Hey, roughrider, how’s my little girl?”
“Good,” she said with her singsongy voice and gave me a tight hug. “I wub you, Ann Amie.”
“I love you too, baby girl. How was school?”
Bailey threw her hands on her hips whizzing right past my question. “I’m not a baby.”
“No, you’re not. You’re a very big girl and I’m so proud of you. I have a surprise for you at home,” I said.
“Me?” she exclaimed dramatically.
“Yep.”
Despite the drama I’d had today, somehow Bailey’s sweet little cherub face seemed to wash it all away. We packed up her belongings and headed out the door, waving to the remaining students waiting for their parents to arrive.
Walking up the steps to our apartment, I noticed an envelope stuck to the door with my name on it. I didn’t recognize the handwriting at first, and figured Renee had intentionally tried to trick me into thinking someone else stuck it there so I’d open it. Only, it wasn’t from Renee; it was from Ryan. Naturally, my first instinct was to tear it to shreds, but curiosity got the best of me and I ripped the end off and pulled the letter out. The first words I saw were Baby, come back, written in bold letters. Like I needed one more thing to go wrong today. It was then that I ripped it to shreds.
“What’s that?” Bailey asked.
“Just some junk,” I said inserting the key into the lock.
“Junk?”
“Yes, junk.”
As soon as the door opened she took off like a shot for her bedroom, anxious to see it. I walked to the kitchen and tossed the shreds into the garbage can and headed down the hall to her room. Bailey was hugging one of the princess pillows so tight her face was red.
“Honey, you’re going to hurt yourself,” I said, loosening her arms slightly. “You like your room?”
“Pretty, just like Bailey.”
“Right, just like you.” I watched her go from one thing to the next like it was Christmas morning and a warm glow centered inside me. I was pleased to know she was happy with her room. “Okay, one more surprise. Open your closet door and look inside.”
“Yay.” She whisked the boots off the floor and flopped down onto on her backside and slipped her feet inside the boots, her tiny tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth as she struggled to get them on her feet. Just as I was ready to help, she got up and tromped around the room as though she was walking through snow. She was so cute to watch. I imagined Missy watching her the same way and feeling the same warm satisfaction I felt.
“I think there’s something else in your closet.” I pointed. She rushed over so quickly, the toe of her boot caught on the carpet and she almost fell. “Careful, sweetie,” I said, breaking her fa
ll.
Standing in front of the opened door she focused on the floor, obviously thinking that was where I wanted her to look. I reached over her head and pulled the hanger off the rack and held Belle’s gown in front of her eyes. She squealed with delight and immediately flopped back down on the floor and began pulling off her boots and socks in a haphazard way.
“Here, let me help you.” I pulled her T-shirt over her head and left her pants on, sliding the gown over her head. She walked to the mirror and giggled with so much excitement, she brought tears to my eyes. If Missy hadn’t made me guardian of this sweet child, I never would have experienced the joy of being a parent because I’d closed myself off from every attempt at romance.
The fact that Chase was no longer in my life sent my thoughts on a downward spiral, and that’s when Ryan’s note invaded my mind. I shuddered to think he knew where I lived and wondered how he found out. Gabi mentioned seeing him but I was certain there was no way she would have told him. A brief moment and I remembered telling his parents where I lived. I guess I never expected them to tell their son, but then, I never expected to see Ryan again either. I was hoping after Vito’s call to them for a work reference, they wouldn’t tell Ryan where I was working.
I left the room and let Bailey play with her stuff. The chocolate pecan pie sitting on the kitchen counter was begging for me to have a slice despite the fact it was supper-time—this was supper.
I cut a large piece and decided I wasn’t going to think about the dumb calories associated with a piece this large. I convinced myself it was okay to splurge as solace for the new drama in my life. Bailey appeared into the kitchen carrying the princess pillow from her bed. “Bailey sleepy.” She rubbed her eyes.
I chuckled. “Is Bailey tired because she wants to sleep in her new room?” She released a hearty giggle. “Okay, you little goof. How about some supper first?” She pointed to my slice of pie. “After dinner.” It was hypocritical—I know. I remembered hearing my mother say the same thing. Okay, so I put it back. “Let’s go eat in your pretty bedroom at the little table.”
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