Three Years Later #2
He wraps his arms around my waist, nuzzling my neck for a moment.
I melt. We took it slow at first, finding our footing as business partners and friends and gradually more.
Then a year to the day I’d decided to stay in Italy, Nicolo led me to our tree, the oldest olive tree in the grove, and recited a sonnet he’d written.
It wasn’t very good poetry, but I didn’t care.
When he got down on one knee, I said yes immediately.
I knew without a doubt who I wanted by my side for the rest of my life.
Our wedding was a couple of months later—simple and small and perfect.
We got married on the patio, surrounded by our loved ones and the olive trees.
Aurora officiated after getting ordained online a week before the wedding.
Nonna made the cake—not Orange Blossom but still delicious.
Tony arrived a year later, an unplanned surprise that has upended our lives in the best possible way.
Violetta and Nonna are both besotted with the baby and engage in a good-natured competition to see who can spoil him more.
So far I think Violetta is winning. I caught her feeding him sugar cubes straight from the bowl last week.
I hear the crunch of tires and see the film crew’s white van turn into the courtyard.
My pulse speeds up a bit and I feel a flutter of the old anxiety.
I still get nervous before the cameras turn on, but I’ve learned how to manage it well here.
I don’t panic as often. I’ve learned to hold the tension of the unknown more lightly, to let myself rest secure in the love of my family.
For some reason I think of Drew, of the day three years ago when I said no to everything I thought I wanted and yes to all that really mattered.
Saving the farm and building this business has been hard and frustrating, scary and exhilarating, but I’ve never regretted my choice.
Last I heard, Drew was working as a backup dancer on a cruise ship show out of Florida.
I guess he got the entertainment life he wanted after all. And me? I’m right where I belong.
Nonna sticks her head out the door as the film crew van pulls to a stop. A quiet Tony is perched on her hip, happily gnawing his carrot. “Lorenzo!” she yells. “You gnocco! Come have some pasta.”
Slowly in the past few years her insults have softened to far more complimentary nicknames.
“Did she just call Zio Lorenzo a hunk?” I giggle.
Nicolo and I exchange a knowing look. While on the surface nothing about Nonna and Lorenzo’s relationship seems to have changed, more often than not now, when we head to our bedroom late at night, we see a sliver of light underneath the unused front parlor’s door and the sound of muted laughter and endearments murmured in Italian.
Often in the morning there are two little glasses with the dregs of grappa sitting by the sink.
We don’t talk about it, but I see the way he looks at her and the knowing smile she gives as she pretends not to notice.
Whatever they’re doing, it seems to make both of them happy.
I stand and wave to the film crew as they pile out of the van, then smooth my bob nervously, and cross myself and kiss my thumb for luck.
I take a deep breath and try to relax. Out of the corner of my eye I spot Alex sprinting out the kitchen door, her phone in her hand, ready to capture footage for our social media accounts, which have each now surpassed 120,000 followers.
Alex and I have painstakingly built up Olives and Amore as our family’s brand.
Now under the name @OlivesandAmore on Instagram, I demonstrate how to make local Italian recipes on my weekly segments and Alex shares all sorts of glimpses of our life on the farm through the @OlivesandAmore account on TikTok.
Nonna often appears in my weekly segments to help me cook, and our followers adore her.
Often I think back to that day three years ago when I did not take the bite of the Orange Blossom Cake.
Sometimes I regret that I missed my chance to see the happiest moment of my life, but mostly I just feel grateful that I found the courage to take a risk for my right hard things.
Now I try to live as though each day may indeed contain the best moment of my life.
One day it will, but I won’t know it until I look back on my life from beyond the grave, with the wisdom and perspective of eternity.
So I embrace each day as fully as I can, trying to infuse each hour with purpose, meaning, love, and joy.
I think this is the most important lesson of the cookbook.
This is the true secret of Orange Blossom Cake.
I call out a greeting in Italian, welcoming the news crew to the farm, to our life and family.
Then I stand at the top of the stairs waiting for them to come up to me.
Whatever this day holds, and the next and the next, I am here with open arms, eager to embrace it all.
I am courageous and unafraid. I am ready.