One Menu at a Time

  “What you mean? You sister, she was a no married either?” She was making the sign of the cross again and looking skyward. The closer she got to us, the deeper Bailey hid into my legs.

  “My sister was a widow at an early age, Mrs. Carlucci.”

  She gave the Italian gesture. “That’s all the more reason you marry my Vito.”

  I said another thank-you and patted Bailey’s shoulder to let her know it was okay. “C’mon, sweetie, would you draw a pretty picture for Aunt Jamie?” She sat at the table with her back to the old lady, and I couldn’t blame her. I pulled out her coloring book and crayons and got her set up with her juice box and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “I’m off to work in the kitchen, sweetie”—I pointed—“right through that door.” She continued what she was doing and ignored me. I pushed through the double doors and was surprised to see two young people dressed in chef’s attire standing at attention. I hadn’t met them before.

  “Hi, I’m Jamie.” I extended my hand in greeting. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Jackson, and she’s Casey. Vito told us you’re taking over the kitchen.”

  “I am. Very nice to meet both of you.” Casey seemed a bit timid. “So tell me how long you’ve worked here and what your specialty is?”

  “Pretty much everything,” Jackson said. “We basically ran the kitchen and prepared the food for the customers.”

  “What culinary school did you go to?”

  “We’re still going. The French Culinary Institute. We graduate in a few weeks, and then we have our externships to do, but now that you’re here, maybe we’ll stay here instead of going somewhere else—that is, if you want us.”

  “So let me get this straight,” I said with surprise. “Vito allowed you to do the cooking for his customers?”

  “Yeah, we’re cheap labor.”

  “And you’ve been preparing all the food for the customers?”

  “Yeah, we used Mama Carlucci’s recipes—how hard could it be? Vito said we couldn’t miss with those, but business has been bad, and we sorta figured it might be our cooking. But Vito said the more we did it, the more we’d learn. You know, the old ‘practice makes perfect’ adage. Vito doesn’t know anything about cooking so we’re really glad you’re here. We took this job because we thought we’d learn a lot, but without guidance from someone who knows, we’re not learning anything. We also heard you ran a five-star restaurant and taught cooking classes.”

  “Yes on both counts. Okay, show me where the recipes are kept and let’s do a little reorganization of things in the kitchen. What do you say?”

  “Anything you say, chef.” Jackson saluted but Casey remained silent.

  “Casey, do you have something you want to say?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Where is the menu?”

  “We don’t have one,” Jackson said.

  “Well, how the heck do you cook for people if they don’t know what you offer?”

  “Vito walks around and makes suggestions to them, then comes back and pulls the recipe for us and we make it.”

  If I had wondered before why his business was doing so poorly, I no longer had any doubts. I scanned the kitchen with a serious eye and realized there was no way I could actually cook for lunch tomorrow until we organized the room. “All right, Casey, I’d like you to rearrange those shelves with the spices and flours in alphabetical order so we don’t have to look around for the supplies. Then, get the recipes and we’ll figure out what to do with them. Jackson, while I’m making up the menu, I want you to go into the walk-in and give me a list of everything we have in there. If you find anything bad, toss it in a container and let me look at it before we throw it out.”

  “Uh-oh, Vito’s not going to be happy.”

  “Let me worry about that.” He started to walk away.

  “Jackson, do you have a photographic memory?”

  “No.”

  “Then you might want to take a pad and pen with you before you get to work.”

  He laughed. “Yes, ma’am.” He shook his head. “This woman knows what she’s doin’.”

  I headed over to the corner of the kitchen to a small table to begin working when I noticed the condition of the appliances.”

  The double doors opened and Bailey entered with Stefani. “Ann Amie,” she called. “Acareum.”

  “Aquarium,” I corrected. “Hi, Stef, glad you’re here.” I pulled the extra set of house keys from my pocket and handed them to her. “These are to the apartment and I’ll see you later. Here’s a card with my cell phone number listed. Give me periodic updates—like every two hours so I won’t worry. This is all new to me.” I kissed Bailey on the cheek. “You be a good girl and have fun.” She squiggled around and tugged on Stefani’s hand. I watched as they left through the back door, hoping my nerves would propel me to work faster. Having someone else watch Bailey made me nervous and, although I didn’t know her well, I did take comfort in knowing Stefani had taken classes at the Widget and Cassie and Gabi vouched for her.

  Five hours later, the kitchen sparkled and things were exactly where I wanted them. The new menu was up on my laptop, and I had the list of groceries I needed that I would order tomorrow. Because it had been a long time since Vito had been opened on Mondays I figured the first day wouldn’t be as busy and I could shop for what I needed at the supermarket to get me started.

  “Good job today, guys. Can you start early tomorrow morning so we can prep the vegetables?”

  “We have the first part of our final exams tomorrow morning,” Casey said, “but we can be here for dinner.” I was glad she was feeling more relaxed. Throughout the day, she’d told me how glad she was that the pressure had been taken off of them and she hoped that I would be able to handle Vito and Mama since they weren’t the easiest people to deal with. I was tempted to ask them to stay later, but they looked so tired I didn’t have the heart, so I called in the troops. I knew I could count on Cassie and Gabi to help get me set up for tomorrow.

  “Have you heard anything from Chase?” Cassie asked as she diced the onions.

  “No, I haven’t.” My voice bordered on the low side. “I guess he was serious when he told me to take a hike.”

  “Is that remorse I’m hearing?” Gabi’s attention turned toward the conversation and away from slicing mushrooms.

  “I told you so,” she announced to Cassie as she raised her hand. “Give me a high five, girlfriend.”

  “What? You’re taking bets now?”

  “No, but I’m wishing we had. It’s time, Jamie, really time for you to let someone into your life. You’re like a nun in a convent, for God’s sake. And you’re way too young to wither away and fade into the woodwork.” They both stared at me, waiting for a response.

  “What do you want me to say? Okay, so I am crazy about Chase…but now I’m terribly confused.”

  “All right!” Gabi and Cassie did another celebratory high five. “She’s back in the game.” They shared a grin. “What exactly are you confused about?”

  “Well, Ryan stopped over yesterday.”

  “What? And you let him in? Are you off your rocker?” Gabi asked.

  “Yeah, I guess I am, but I let him in out of respect for his parents, and then Bailey woke up from her nap and saw him sitting in the chair and was all over him. She loves him.”

  “I’m surprised she even remembers him.”

  “Well, there’s a good reason for that. She has a picture of the three of us that sits on her dresser, and…” I filled in the details about her daily ritual. “The sad news is she associates Ryan with Missy. She even asked him where Missy was.”

  “Aw, that poor little thing. That has to be tough.”

  Cassie’s expression turned stern and she quirked a single brow at me. “You’re not considering getting back together with this creep, are you?”

  “No,” I said in a singsong voice.

  “My God, that look on your face says you’re lying. Good grief, you�
�re losing your marbles.” She turned to Gabi. “She’s losing it.” Cassie nodded in agreement. “Look, he messed up your head for an entire year. Just because you’re Bailey’s parent now doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice your life for her. She can still see him.” They both eyed me for a few minutes. “You don’t still feel something for him, do you?”

  “Yeah, I did feel something.”

  “Oh, Jamie. Don’t be stupid. He’s a jerk, he’s selfish, and has no regard for you or anyone else. Sure, he was drunk when he made the decision, but he still made it as an adult.

  No one carried him to the plane with that woman. He went voluntarily. And he spent the entire weekend with her. You don’t think they were just talking, do you?”

  “I know. He said the guys were egging him on and so he went for it.”

  “Yeah, right. So if the guys told him to jump off the bridge, do you think he’d do that too?” Gabi’s face flushed from anger. “He’s banking on your vulnerability right now, and quite frankly, I can’t believe you’ve even entertained the idea. And once he sees that, forget it, girlfriend; he’ll be back doing the same thing.” She shook her head back and forth. “His parents adore you, Jamie. And you must know they’ve undoubtedly laid the guilt on him.”

  “I know, guys. I wasn’t saying I was going to go back with him. I’m just reporting what happened. After he finished his spiel, I went to open the door and that’s when Bailey ran into the room. Then she asked him to stay for dinner—he said no, but she cried so hard, I told him to stay—I just didn’t have the heart to ask him to leave. He didn’t do anything to her.”

  “He certainly did! He had an opportunity of a lifetime to be with you and a loving family and he blew it—not just to you, but to all of us.” Cassie shook her head. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.” She began to dice the onions faster.

  “Watch that thumb of yours,” I warned.

  “And what are you going to do about Chase? The other night, it seemed like you really felt something for him. Are you going to let a simple misunderstanding get in the way of happiness?”

  “Look, last week he professed his love for me and now he’s gone too.” I slapped my hands against the counter. “See, this is why I shouldn’t be involved with anyone.”

  “He took the news about his career pretty hard, Jamie. What would you do if you accidently cut off your fingers? Wouldn’t you be upset and ready to take it out on everyone around you?”

  “I suppose, but I thought he’d send me flowers like he did the last time we had words, and he hasn’t, so I guess that’s just the way he wants it. He’s probably back in Virginia with his Barbie dolls anyway.”

  “Or, Jamie…he’s waiting for you to call him. You can’t expect him to grovel every time you two have a disagreement. There has to be a little compromise somewhere.”

  “And that’s another thing,” I said with anger. “After I’d told him I saw Ryan, the first thing he asked was if Ryan mentioned Emily.” I sighed. “Maybe he’s more forgiving than I am and maybe he’s willing to take her back.”

  “And maybe he was asking for another reason,” Gabi fired back. “So what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  How will you know if he’s thinking of you? Well, you know one of them is—but is it the one you want to be thinking of you? Everyone, including you, knows Ryan’s unreliable—so forget that pathetic overdue apology.

  Mix the brewed coffee and Kahlúa together. Using a sheet pan, place the ladyfingers in a single row and brush the liquid over each finger without soaking—just enough to add flavor. Set aside. Mix the confectioners’ sugar and cocoa together and set aside.

  Go ahead now; it’s okay to beat the yolks and sugar to the pale yellow stage. Pretend it’s Ryan’s head in the bowl. Now turn the beaters on high speed. There, that ought to make you feel better. So big deal! Seeing him gave you a tingle. Consider that tingle the same as putting your wet finger in an electric socket. Ouch! ’Nuff said?

  Now, gradually beat in the mascarpone cheese and half of the whipped cream. Reserve the rest for topping after assembly.

  Using a clear glass dish, arrange the ladyfingers around the bottom and sides of the dish. Pour in half of the mixture and spread evenly, making sure to extend it to all the sides of the dish. Sprinkle half of the cocoa mixture over top, then add another layer of ladyfingers and spread remaining filling over top. Pipe or spread the whipped cream on top, sprinkle with remaining cocoa mixture, and refrigerate until serving. Makes eight to ten servings.

  I felt relieved knowing Bailey was in school for the day and Stefani would pick her up later. If things went the way I’d planned, today would be fairly busy for lunch, considering I was the only person in the kitchen. Was my determination to pull off lunch without an extra pair of hands a little ambitious? I felt a surge of nervous anxiety surge through me. Maybe my first assessment about being slow this first Monday was correct and I could handle it. If not, I’d just have to dance as fast and I could. Besides, Vito would just have to lend a hand.

  He grinned at me when I entered. Today, he was dressed in a mocha-colored silk shirt and matching dress slacks—the nicest I’d seen him look. His hair was neatly combed to the side.

  “You made up a menu?” he blurted out.

  “Yes, I did. Want to see it?”

  “No, I’ve seen it. I’m not sure this is going to work. We’ve been using my mother’s recipes forever and I’m not sure changing what she’s made in the past is a good idea.”

  I tried to remain calm, despite being tired from a late night and my head swimming in ingredients and men. “Vito, with all due respect, your business has been on the downward spiral for several months. Why do you think that is?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe the kids didn’t make the food taste right.”

  “You mean you’ve never tasted it?”

  “No. I knew what it tasted like and so long as it looked like Mama’s—”

  “All righty, then. Okay, here’s the deal. You promised to let me do my thing…give me a chance to do what I came here to do. If after a few weeks, you don’t see a difference, I’ll leave and you can go back to doing what you did before.” Vito wasn’t paying attention to what I was saying because his eyes were searching my face.

  “Mama really likes you.”

  “That’s actually surprising to me.”

  “She thinks we should get married.”

  “Excuse me?” I closed my eyes and heaved a sigh. “Vito, you’re a very nice man but I’m not looking for a husband. Can I go cook now?” I waved and walked into the kitchen. To my surprise, Mama Carlucci was kneeling in front of a statue, saying the rosary, and frequently striking her chest. I felt like I was intruding on sacred ground and turned to head back out to the reception area. “Vito, what’s your mother doing in the kitchen?”

  “She’s praying in the same room you’re in so God doesn’t get confused.”

  “Confused about what?”

  “She’s praying you’ll marry me. You have everything she wants. You’re wife material. She’d have an instant granddaughter whom she could pamper, you can cook, and we’d have our own place and I wouldn’t have to live with Mama anymore…that is, unless you wanted to.”

  I cleared my throat. There was nothing left to say. “Vito, please get her out of my kitchen.” I rolled my eyes. He seemed a bit put off by my deliberate avoidance of his comment, but I figured he’d get the message sooner or later because I certainly wasn’t taking any of this seriously.

  “Well, it’s not technically your kitchen.”

  “Right, I know that, but I’m the one cooking in there, so for now it’s mine; it’s just a figure of speech.”

  “But it could be yours…”

  “Look, I have to get busy, and I can’t work while she’s doing her voodoo magic in the same room.”

  Vito huffed and pushed through the double doors while I waited. I heard her chastising him, but he ultimately
won the argument and pulled her out into the reception area, opening the door with his backside. His mama shot me a look and then the squinty eyes returned. I passed through the doors without a word, pretending it didn’t bother me. Every once in a while when I looked up, a set of squinty eyes were staring at me through the portholes on the door, her lips moving. I managed to keep my dignity intact, but from what Lucy had told me before, the malocchio was serious business, and I needed her help. I dialed her number, my head pounding from the aggravation.

  “Lucy, Mama Carlucci is giving me the squinty-eye thing.”

  “Ooooh…you have something she wants.”

  “She’s been looking through the portholes on the door about every twenty minutes.”

  “Ooooh, this is more serious than I thought. I should come down there. Do you have on an apron?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, do you know how to pose your fingers like the Italian horn?”

  “You mean that charm Cassie wears around her neck with the forefinger and the pinky extended?”

  “Yes, that’s the one.”

  “Okay.” I tried it out. “I can do that, but why does it matter if I have an apron on?”

  “Hide your hands under your apron. You don’t want her to see you warding off the evil eye. She’ll only give you a double dose and no amount of horns are gonna matter. Do you have a headache?”

  “Yeah, how did you know?” I rubbed my temples. “This is really just folklore though, isn’t it?”

  “You have a headache, don’t you?”

  Preheat oven to 300 degrees.

  Place the nuts and seeds in a large mixing bowl. Ignore this nutcase laying the squinty-eye thing on you. But to protect yourself, cover the porthole windows in the door with black construction paper. Now, make sure you cut the circles the right size to cover the complete window—no sense leaving a gap so she can send those unwanted vibes your way. Now use strong glue to hold them in place so she can’t rip them off. Better get out to the department store and purchase one of those Italian horns they all wear to ward off the damage the squint can do to you.