Chapter 17
New York City
T he night of the gala at the Hilton had finally arrived.
The large ballroom was festooned with holiday decorations, and mountains of toys were piled next to the twelve-foot tree.
A big band was playing holiday favorites including “Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town.
” Myra and Annie burst out laughing. “Let’s hope not,” Annie said cheerfully.
“Only the real Santa,” Myra suggested.
The two couples looked like movie stars, with Fergus and Charles decked out in Emporio Armani tuxedos. Annie was wearing a bronze, portrait-collar, faux wrap dress with three-quarter sleeves and a sweeping high-low hem. Myra donned a floral-embroidered, beaded trumpet gown in a smoky gray.
They were seated at the same table as Camille and her husband and son. Camille was dumbstruck when she saw the abundance of toys and socks. “How did you manage all this?”
Annie and Myra looked at each other and shrugged. “All in a day’s work,” Myra replied coyly.
When the group of children arrived, the expressions on their faces brought Myra and Annie to tears.
It was truly a joyous occasion, considering the events the days before.
Once again, the Sisters pulled off an amazing coup.
There were just a few loose ends that needed tending to, but that would come soon enough.
The Following Day
Giovanni decided to let Frankie sleep in that morning. He fed the cats and did the chores, showered, and got ready for work. As he was about to leave, his phone rang. It was his mother.
“Mama! Everything alright?” he asked with a tinge of concern.
“ Si , but no.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Anita,” Rosevita said with a slight edge to her voice.
“Is she alright?” Giovanni pressed on.
“Yes, but there is a small problem.” Rosevita remained calm, spoke slowly, and in her best English.
That was a rule the family had. In America, speak like Americans , unless you didn’t want the grandchildren to know what you were talking about.
“Anita’s women’s group was to make cakes for the church bake sale, but everyone has the flu. Anita cannot do it by herself.”
“What can I do to help? I have to be at the restaurant by ten.”
“Can you ask Frankie to call her friends to help?”
“Of course I can ask, but let me call you back in a few minutes.”
He gently tapped Frankie’s shoulder. She bounced with a start.
“Everything alright? What time is it? Geez, I was out like a light,” all came tumbling out of her mouth.
“Everything is okay, but Mama and Anita need help to bake something for the church. The other women got sick, and they need cakes for tomorrow.”
Frankie sat up straight. “Okay. Hand me my phone, and I’ll call Nina and Rachael. What time and where should we meet?”
Giovanni called his mother. “Mama? What do you need and when?” He nodded as she explained; then he responded, “Okay. I will call the restaurant supply company and order the panettone pans and the paper. Frankie can pick them up on her way to Anita’s house.
In an hour?” Giovanni looked at Frankie with wide eyes.
She nodded. “Okay, Mama. Frankie is on it. Ciao !”
“What’s going on?”
Giovanni explained the situation, and Frankie immediately phoned Nina and Rachael.
“Hey, kids, we have an SOS from Rosevita and Anita. They need help with some baking ASAP. From what I gleaned from Giovanni’s conversation with her, we will be baking panettones, but we’ve got to get to Anita’s in an hour. You in?”
Nina and Rachael were always available when Frankie needed them. It was true of all of them. “Great! I’ll text you the address and meet you there.” She quickly pulled up Anita and Marco’s contact info and sent it off to Rachael and Nina.
Frankie scrambled out of bed and into the shower. Giovanni had a double cappuccino and a croissant waiting for her when she stepped out of the bathroom. “You are the best!” She kissed him on the cheek.
“No. You are the best!”
“Okay. I won’t argue with you.” Frankie smiled and took a swig of her coffee.
Giovanni wrote down the address of the restaurant supply company. “I already spoke to them while you were in the shower. Everything will be ready when you get there.”
“Excellent,” Frankie said, and then stopped. “Is it my imagination, or do we have a food emergency every year?”
Giovanni laughed out loud. “You are very observant, cara mia !”
She snatched the paper out of his hand, gave him a kiss, and hurried to the lot where Giovanni kept his car. Fortunately, traffic was light in her neighborhood, and she navigated her way to the Lincoln Tunnel with ease. She hoped the rest of the day would run as smoothly.
When she arrived at the supply house, the order was sitting on the counter with her name on it. One of the employees helped carry the box to her car. So far, things were moving along. She arrived at Anita’s twenty minutes later as Rachael and Nina were pulling in.
Lots of hugs, then questions, erupted as they helped Frankie unpack. Frankie shared what little information she had and assured them they would be brought up to speed as soon as they got into the house.
The kitchen counter was piled high with ingredients.
“Wow! How many of these things are we making?” Nina asked.
“We need fifteen,” Anita said. “I cannot thank you enough for helping.”
“Don’t thank us yet,” Rachael quipped. “This is my first Panettone Rodeo.”
It occurred to Frankie that there wasn’t time to soak the raisins. They required a couple of days. “What about the raisins?”
Rosevita had a sly smile on her face, then pointed to three jars sitting next to the sink. “I bring. Raisins and cherries.”
“How did you get it through customs?” Frankie asked with her mouth agape. She wasn’t sure what was more surprising: the raisins, or the idea Rosevita was a smuggler.
“I wrap them in toy boxes,” Rosevita said, and grinned.
“Oh, you are one sharp cookie!” Nina said with admiration.
“No cookies. Panettone!” Rosevita responded.
Rachael was next with a question. “How are we going to bake fifteen in two ovens?”
“The dough has to rise two times. The second time is for one hour. That’s when you each take three to your houses and bake there. When they are finished, you bring them back here. Four ovens, three panettone each. No problem,” Rosevita explained. “We bake the other three here.”
Frankie had to admit it was a good plan. Rachael and Nina lived about twenty minutes away, and Frankie’s parents’ house was twenty-five. “Oh, I better call my mom and tell her I am commandeering her oven!” she said excitedly.
Fortunately, Anita and Marco had a large U-shaped chef’s kitchen with lots of counter space, a center island, and two ovens.
Rosevita and Lucia had already created a working area for everyone, with all the ingredients pre-measured and prepped.
Everyone was handed an apron and stood in front of their station.
Rosevita and Lucia began to give them a cooking class for the traditional panettone.
For years, Rosevita had kept her secret recipe a secret, until she finally succumbed to Giovanni and Marco’s nagging and passed it along the year before.
Having everything pre-measured made quick work of the long process. The holiday music of Michael Bublé, Harry Connick, Jr., Frank Sinatra, and Nat King Cole kept the line moving, with Rachael teaching Rosevita and Lucia a few side wiggles.
Once each batch of dough had been kneaded for the umpteenth time, they covered it to let it rise for two hours. In the meantime, the women cleaned up the kitchen, getting it ready for the next step—when the cherries and raisins are kneaded into the dough, and the dough is set in the pans.
While the dough was rising, the women went to the local pub to grab some lunch and relax until the second phase of this enormous project was at hand. During lunch, Rachael was compelled to ask: “Why so many panettones? Wouldn’t a normal coffee cake be easier?”
Rosevita’s head snapped to attention. “What, and not give Anita a chance to show off her heritage?”
Rachael wasn’t sure if she’d insulted the woman. “No, that’s not what I’m saying,” she said defensively.
“I’m kidding.” Rosevita placed her hand on Rachael’s. “I figure if we have many hands to help, why not?”
Anita added, “Plus, we make the most money on panettone because of how laborious it is. Last year I made three, and they sold out the first ten minutes at twenty-five dollars each! The other women were going to make pies and cakes.”
“Are fifteen going to be enough?” Nina asked.
“Marco called a friend in the bakery business who is donating cakes, cupcakes, and scones.”
“But our panettone will be the best!” Lucia kissed her fingertips.
The women made a bit of a raucous scene as they clapped and cheered, but no one seemed to mind.
By the time they finished lunch and got back to the house, only half an hour remained in the rising of the dough.
Anita clicked on the television to check the weather, and the same story about the disruption at Radio City was on again.
Nina and Frankie shot each other a glance.
Rachael stifled a giggle. For once she wasn’t part of the skirmish, nor did she start it.
Rosevita and Lucia laughed again when they saw the footage. “I thought it was part of the show,” Lucia admitted. “You know. Do something funny.”
“I think they may have done things like that during the vaudeville era, a hundred years ago,” Rachael added. She couldn’t help but give Nina a light elbow in her side.
“I don’t know why they keep running that piece,” Frankie said plainly. “It’s not as if it adds to the holiday celebration.”
“True. But it is still very funny,” Rosevita agreed with her sister-in-law. “Maybe not so funny on the television, but funny in person.”
Nina and Frankie rolled their eyes, hoping something else would give the networks something else to talk about.
Rosevita doled out the drunken fruit, and the women added it to the dough. Once everything had been mixed together, each headed out to their respective ovens. When they finished baking and cooled down, the bread-like cake would be wrapped in holiday paper with a ribbon and a tag that announced:
L OMBARDI ’ S H OMEMADE P ANETTONE O RIGINAL “S ECRET ” R ECIPE FROM I TALY
Hours later, the completed packages were lined up along the counter.
“Bellissima!” Lucia and Rosevita said in unison, then added in English, “Beautiful!”
“Molto bene!” Anita said with delight.
“Brava!” Rachael clapped her hands and did a little jig.
“We need to have a little toast!” Rosevita said.
“Toast?” Lucia balked. “We need a little champagne!”
Everyone burst out laughing. Rachael helped Anita with the champagne glasses, while Frankie popped a cork and poured.
“Mission accomplished, ladies!” Frankie cheered.
Greenwich Village
On the other side of the Hudson River, Annie sat with her back to the wall at a table in the rear of a coffee shop.
From her vantage point, she could see patrons entering and exiting and who was loitering outside.
A large, burly figure with tattoos and piercings swung open the door.
Annie presumed it was Mr. Barflow. She looked up and nodded to him.
His sour-looking face turned a bit cheerier as he approached the table.
“Mr. Barflow?” Annie said, more as a statement than a question.
“Countess De Silva?” he asked politely.
“Yes. Please. Sit.” She motioned to the chair in front of her. She knew he wouldn’t be comfortable with his back to the door. No good criminal is. “I’ll be brief.”
He leaned forward with his forearms on the table. “Let’s have it.”
“As I mentioned, I am in need of some quick cash.” She reached into her purse and produced a velvet pouch. She glanced around the room to see if there were any prying eyes, then slid the pouch across the table. “This is a sample of what I am willing to part with. Here’s a photo of the rest of it.”
Barflow quickly scanned his surroundings and positioned himself so any view of their interaction was obscured. He reached into his pocket and produced a jeweler’s eyepiece. Annie opened the pouch and placed the diamond ring on top of it. “Please take a good look.”
Bucky did another quick look around, placed the eyepiece against his eye, and leaned closer to the diamond. “She’s a beauty alright.” He sat up quickly. “How soon do you want the money?”
“As soon as tomorrow. That is, if you can arrange it.” Annie said it in a way that she knew would challenge him.
“You said one-fifty, and I get thirty percent?”
“That’s the deal. But it has to be done tomorrow. Can you handle it?”
“Sure. No problem. Just tell me where and when.” Bucky sat back and folded his arms.
“Tomorrow evening at six? My Gulfstream is at Teterboro.” She slid a piece of paper with the hangar number over to him. “And you will come alone.”
She placed the diamond back in the pouch and tucked it into her purse. “So do we have a deal, Mr. Barflow?”
He held out his hand. “We do, indeed. I don’t need no escort.”
Annie cringed at the idea of shaking this despicable creature’s mitt, but it was all part of the game. She slowly got up from her chair. “See you tomorrow.”
Annie confidently moved past the other patrons and handed the waitress a twenty-dollar bill. “Keep it.”
Bucky couldn’t help but notice a stretch limo was waiting for her outside. A man wearing a chauffeur’s cap opened the door for her. Annie wasn’t the flashy type, but under certain circumstances, she had to play her role to the fullest.
Annie got into the car, where Myra was waiting for her. “Tomorrow at six.” Myra gave her a high five.