Chapter 53
“Okay, are we ready to try this again?” I look around the kitchen expectantly as I tie an apron around my waist.
It’s early, barely seven a.m., and we are gathered once more in Nonna’s kitchen.
Nicolo stands across the prep table from me, gazing at me searchingly with those dark eyes as though trying to read my mind.
I offer him a brief smile but avoid his gaze.
I’m not ready to tell anyone the path I’ve chosen, not until I taste that first bite of cake.
I’m hoping against hope that what I see will reveal the best choice to me.
“Let’s get on with it,” Violetta grumbles. “No need to delay.”
Alex and I exchange a glance. Things are definitely warmer between us after yesterday.
After our unexpected swim, she ran up the hill to the house and brought Lorenzo back with the Panda to transport me home since I couldn’t put weight on my ankle.
After an evening spent keeping ice on the sprain, it’s feeling much better this morning with just a twinge if I put my full weight on it.
I feel a rush of affection for Alex as I watch her fiddling with her phone, getting ready to record.
I tried to rescue her, and ironically she ended up rescuing me.
I have a feeling we’ve rescued each other in ways we do not even understand yet.
“Let’s see what recipe the cookbook gives us. All together now.” I hold the cookbook and everyone except Alex puts our hands on it. I flip open to a page, catching my breath.
“Yes!” Alex cries jubilantly, peering over my shoulder. It’s the recipe for Orange Blossom Cake. I let out a gusty sigh of relief.
“Let’s start baking,” Nonna commands.
Just like the last time, we all help make the cake.
Nonna handles the dry ingredients, Violetta purees the orange, and Nicolo measures the olive oil.
He uses the best olive oil, the one that includes olives from the oldest tree in our groves.
I dip my finger in the oil and taste it.
It is a clear, slightly green color, light and fruity with the slight aftertaste of almond.
It is as precious as gold in these parts and used only for special occasions. This is as special as it gets.
Alex records everything on her phone while Nonna greases the cake pan. I add the orange blossom extract last and stir it into the batter. Then we put it in the oven, set the timer, and wait.
When we pull the cake from the oven, I breathe in the fragrant aroma, then cross myself and say a little prayer for clarity and courage.
“Are we ready?” Nonna asks when the cake has cooled and she’s spread the icing over the top.
She seems resigned since our conversation yesterday afternoon, at peace and yet a little sad.
I want to reassure her that I’m trying my best, that I’ll do everything I can to save this place, but this is not the time.
Later I will tell her, after I’ve seen what the cake has to show me.
There are no easy solutions, but at least I know I am making a decision for the right reason, for our family home and the people I love.
Now I just need some guidance as to how to do it best.
We file out to the patio. Nonna is carrying the cookbook so Alex can get some good shots of the finished cake with the recipe.
In the excitement of our first attempt, she didn’t get as much content for TikTok as she wanted to.
Nicolo brings out a stack of plates and Violetta follows him with napkins.
Alex, still filming, distributes forks, and I bring out the cake and set it on the table, wincing slightly as my ankle protests the steep climb up the steps.
Lorenzo is there too, just to observe. He is sipping an espresso and eyeing Nonna with unabashed appreciation.
She appears to be ignoring him, but her color is higher than normal. I think she’s aware of his gaze on her.
The morning is slightly overcast. There is a thunderstorm brewing, and a cool wind is whipping the leaves on the trees.
It blows strands of my hair—still a little damp from my morning shower—from my thick yellow fabric headband into my eyes.
I tuck each strand back into the headband, but they just come loose again.
I give up and focus on the task at hand.
I’m just about to slice the cake when we hear the crunch of gravel in the driveway.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Violetta rolls her eyes just as Nicolo nods his head toward the car nosing into the courtyard and says, “Look who’s back.”
I get a sense of déjà vu as I see the big black sedan come to a halt.
Drew and Keith are early. I texted Drew last night and told him that I was redoing the cake this morning and I’d have an answer for him by eleven.
It’s barely nine. What are they doing here?
They park close to the house and alight from the car with looks of anticipation when they see us all gathered.
Drew takes the steps two at a time, Keith following behind.
“Sorry to interrupt, folks,” Keith says with a smooth smile.
“We thought we’d get an early start this morning.
” He sees the cake and the cookbook and his eyes widen in anticipation.
I wonder if Drew told him what we were doing this morning.
I wonder if they intentionally joined us early so they could see the cookbook in action.
I can’t say I blame them, but it makes me uneasy.
This is a family affair and I don’t like almost-strangers like Keith being a part of it.
Drew comes up close to me and squeezes my shoulder.
“Have you made a decision yet?” he asks me in an undertone.
“I’ll let you know at eleven, like I said in my text,” I whisper back with a frown. I’m not saying anything until I take that first bite.
I cut the cake and slide the wedges onto plates.
The delicate floral essence is mouthwatering.
I pass cake to Violetta and Nonna, then set a slice in front of Nicolo and serve myself a piece.
In a repeat of yesterday, Nicolo is sitting across from me.
His arms are crossed, his eyes fixed on Drew in what can only be described as polite, steely animosity.
“Everyone ready?” I ask, cutting the tip off my wedge of cake and holding it aloft with my fork. The wind is really picking up, whipping olive leaves and kicking up dust swirls around the patio. I hope we have time to finish before it starts raining.
“Now remember,” Nonna instructs. “We take the first bite at the exact same time. After that, everyone can enjoy the cake and coffee. Even our unexpected guests.” She gestures toward Keith and Drew with a slightly reproving air.
Everyone nods. I see Keith whip out his phone and start filming, walking slowly around the table so he can get the whole group. It feels wrong somehow, that he would be filming such a personal moment. I want to protect us and these sacred few seconds.
“Do you mind turning your phone off, please?” I request politely. Keith lowers the phone in surprise.
“Why?” he asks. “This is great footage. It shows the cookbook in action.”
“This has nothing to do with the show you’ve offered me,” I tell him firmly. “This is a private family moment.”
He looks annoyed but lowers his phone. I’m not convinced he’s actually stopped recording, though. The first raindrops patter on the leaves above us and the sky is a weird purplish color.
“Okay, on three…Nonna, will you count for us?” I ask.
She nods. “Of course. It would be my honor.”
I lift my fork with the bite of cake and look around the circle.
How is it that in the space of a few weeks so much has changed in my life?
How have my priorities rearranged so drastically?
I look at Nonna’s lined face, at the shadows of exhaustion but also the pride in her eyes as she gazes at us around the table.
How many years has she waited for someone to lift the burden of our family legacy from her?
Now I am taking up the mantle, though she does not know it yet.
Somehow I must be ready to bear the heavy weight of responsibility.
“Uno,” Nonna calls loudly. My eyes skip to Lorenzo, faithful Lorenzo who has loved Nonna for so long and cared for her so selflessly. What will happen now that he has declared his love? And what will Nonna see when she finally takes her first bite of the cake?
“Due.”
My eyes pass over Alex. We’ve spent years as strangers. Now we are sisters. She is a part of this legacy, a part of our family and our future, no matter what happens. Nonna was right. There is no such thing as half family. I know that now. I hope Alex does too.
And then just as Nonna takes a deep breath to say the final number, my gaze snags on Nicolo.
He holds his fork poised, the bite of cake speared there.
He’s not looking at Nonna or the cake. His dark eyes are fixed on me, and I see in his gaze all the longing and loneliness, the burden of the years we’ve been apart.
He is so changed. He is exactly the same.
He gives me a look of such piercing tenderness, such hope and apprehension.
And suddenly, my mouth goes dry. I want… I want…
“Tre,” Nonna calls. Out of the corner of my eye I see Violetta and Nonna pop the cake into their mouths, but Nicolo and I do not move. We are frozen, staring at each other with a shared look filled with questions and longing, his gaze torn, mine confused. Neither of us takes a bite.
There is a long moment of silence. It feels as though the world is holding its breath. Even the wind has died down, and there is a strange hush over the landscape. I glance at Nonna, who has her eyes closed. She looks beatific.
Just then Alex points. “Um, guys. Look at Violetta.”
Nicolo and I turn toward the old woman. She is sitting there like a statue in her chair, her hand on her heart, her eyes widened and fixed on some point on the cloudy horizon with a look of radiant joy stamped on her severe features.
For a heart-stopping moment I think she may have suffered some sort of heart attack or stroke and breathed her last, but just then she blinks and gives a little gasp.
She turns, her expression a bit confused, and sees all of us gaping at her.
“What are you staring at?” she demands crossly. Nope, she’s obviously fine.
“Nonna V.” Nicolo touches her arm gently. “What did you see?”
Violetta lifts one trembling hand and smooths her gray hair into her tight bun. “It was so beautiful,” she says, looking from Nicolo to me and smiling. “I could die this minute and be at peace.”
“Well, let’s no one die quite yet,” Nonna quips practically. Her eyes have popped open and she appears unfazed by whatever she experienced. “You want to live to see the vision come true, don’t you?”
“I do,” Lorenzo interjects cheerfully.
A peculiar look comes over Nonna’s face at his words.
She turns and looks at Lorenzo long and hard for a moment, then nods her head decisively as though making up her mind about something.
She stands and goes to him, cups his big, tanned faced in her hands, and gives him a quick peck on the lips.
“Maybe you will, you big idiota,” she says crisply, turning away immediately.
He looks gobsmacked for a moment, then a satisfied smile creeps over his face.
“Maybe I will,” he repeats, giving us a sly wink.
Nonna sits down and quickly sips her espresso, her cheeks a dull red.
She’s blushing! It makes her look like a young woman.
I think perhaps Lorenzo isn’t the only one in love.
“What did you see, Bruna?” Violetta asks.
“None of your business, any of you,” Nonna replies tartly. Then she notices Nicolo and me, still holding forks with a bite of cake on them.
“You didn’t take the bite?” Nonna exclaims, looking scandalized. “Nicolo, Juliana, why did you not take a bite?” She presses her hand to her heart in dismay.
I shoot a wild glance at Nicolo, feeling disappointment and dismay. “I don’t know…” I stare down at the bite of cake. “I meant to, and then when you counted to three I just…didn’t.”
I’m not even close to understanding why I did what I did. I glance up to find Nicolo watching me curiously.
“Still afraid to take a risk for what you want?” he asks softly.
My temper flares instantly. “I know what I want,” I tell him hotly.
“I want to be the next caretaker of this farm, I want to carry on the legacy. It feels impossible right now, but I’ll figure out a way.
I don’t need a bite of cake to show me that.
I was just hoping the cake could give me a clue as to how I do it, so I don’t fail miserably.
” My voice trails away as my anger dissipates.
I’m left feeling a little shaken. But in that moment the strangest thing happens.
Nicolo’s face clears instantly and he breaks into the biggest grin.
It’s like looking at a sunrise after a storm.
He sets down his bite of cake and applauds, his gaze still fixed on me.
“Brava, Jules,” he says. “That took courage. It seems you have chosen your right hard thing.”
I flush and look around. Nonna is beaming at me, hands clasped over her breast like a saint receiving a holy vision. “I am so glad,” she whispers.
Lorenzo slaps his hand on his knee in glee. Even Alex shoots me a look of quiet relief. Only Violetta is looking at me sourly. “Oh, so you’re staying?” she says.
I laugh. “Sorry to disappoint you, but yes. You can’t get rid of me that easily,” I tell her.
She humph s, but a reluctant smile tugs up one corner of her mouth.
“You can always make the cake and try again,” Nonna say comfortingly.
She slides the cookbook over to me. I pick it up and open it, expecting to see the familiar cake recipe, but instead to my surprise there is a recipe for a risotto dish with truffles on the page.
No Orange Blossom Cake in sight. I shut the book quickly, dismayed.
I missed my chance to see the happiest moment of my life and to hopefully get some answers.
Now I’m going to have to figure things out on my own. What an intimidating thought.
“What did you see?” Nonna peers across the table, sees my expression, and frowns. “No cake recipe?” She reaches over and pats my hand. “Trust the book,” she says. “It always knows exactly what we need.”