dance stuff she liked to listen to. Two minutes later it started to feel as if someone had shoved a knitting needle through his temple.
Lucy reached over and shut the radio off. “What if something really is wrong?”
Then they would deal with it. Whatever it was. “Like the doctor said, there’s no point worrying until there’s something to worry about.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“No,” he glanced over at her, “it’s not. I’m worried, too.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “That was unfair. Of course you are.”
“You know what might make things easier?”
“What?”
“If you married me.”
She shot him a look.
That was a definite no. “No matter what it is, if it’s anything at all, we’ll deal with it. Together. Everything will be okay.”
“You’re right,” she said, with a smile that was almost genuine. “I have to be positive.”
He was glad she believed him. Now, if he could just manage to convince himself.
* * *
When Nonno said he would teach her to make the sauce, Lucy had assumed he would make it and she would watch. She was wrong. He claimed that doing all the work was part of the learning process. She sort of had the feeling his cook had the day off and Lucy was just a hapless replacement.
Though she had still been apprehensive about coming here, it sure beat sitting home, twiddling her thumbs, wondering what was wrong with the baby. Or her. Or worse, both of them. Tony must have felt the same way, because instead of going back home after he dropped her at Nonno ’s, he went into the office instead, even though he’d sworn he was taking the rest of the week off. Honestly, she couldn’t blame him.
First, Nonno had her gather all the ingredients from the pantry and refrigerator, along with a big silver pot from the cupboard that had seen its fair share of time on an open flame.
He sat on a stool at the kitchen island, taking her through the steps of the recipe, telling her to add a pinch of this and a touch of that. He never once had her use a measuring spoon.
“This isn’t so hard,” she said, wiping her hands on the apron he’d given her to wear. She stirred the contents of the pot with a wooden spoon. “And it smells delicious.”
“I think you’re a natural.”
“It’s fun. Though I’m not sure I’ll remember all that.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll write it down for you.”
“With actual measurements?”
“Yes, yes, with measurements.”
“I’ll add it to my journal so I’ll always have it.”
“My Angelica kept a journal,” Nonno said. “I buried it with her. My children were not happy with me.”
“They wanted to read it?”
“Yes, but they were Angelica’s private thoughts, and no one else’s business. Including mine.”
“My journal is online, so no one without a password can access it. It started out as a school project, but I liked it so much I kept writing.”
He patted the stool beside him. “Come, sit with me.”
She wondered if Tony had told him what the doctor said about her staying off her feet. After sitting idle for two days, it felt good to move around, to get out of the apartment. If the doctor were to ever put her on total bed rest, she would need a padded room within the first week.
“Sit. Rest,” Nonno said. “Soon we’ll start the noodles.”
Even she could boil noodles.
She rinsed her hands at the sink then sat down beside him. “How did you learn to cook?”
“My madre. She was a cook for a wealthy family in our village. She also made candy and sold it to the local merchants. I helped her.”
“What did your father do?”
“He was a merchant. But he died when I was very small.”
“Was it just you and your mom?”
“Yes, just the two of us. We had very little. Many nights we went to bed hungry.”
That certainly was something they had in common.
“You, too,” he said, and it wasn’t a question. He already knew.
“Tony told you?”
“I could see it in your eyes.” He laid a
Lucy reached over and shut the radio off. “What if something really is wrong?”
Then they would deal with it. Whatever it was. “Like the doctor said, there’s no point worrying until there’s something to worry about.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“No,” he glanced over at her, “it’s not. I’m worried, too.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “That was unfair. Of course you are.”
“You know what might make things easier?”
“What?”
“If you married me.”
She shot him a look.
That was a definite no. “No matter what it is, if it’s anything at all, we’ll deal with it. Together. Everything will be okay.”
“You’re right,” she said, with a smile that was almost genuine. “I have to be positive.”
He was glad she believed him. Now, if he could just manage to convince himself.
* * *
When Nonno said he would teach her to make the sauce, Lucy had assumed he would make it and she would watch. She was wrong. He claimed that doing all the work was part of the learning process. She sort of had the feeling his cook had the day off and Lucy was just a hapless replacement.
Though she had still been apprehensive about coming here, it sure beat sitting home, twiddling her thumbs, wondering what was wrong with the baby. Or her. Or worse, both of them. Tony must have felt the same way, because instead of going back home after he dropped her at Nonno ’s, he went into the office instead, even though he’d sworn he was taking the rest of the week off. Honestly, she couldn’t blame him.
First, Nonno had her gather all the ingredients from the pantry and refrigerator, along with a big silver pot from the cupboard that had seen its fair share of time on an open flame.
He sat on a stool at the kitchen island, taking her through the steps of the recipe, telling her to add a pinch of this and a touch of that. He never once had her use a measuring spoon.
“This isn’t so hard,” she said, wiping her hands on the apron he’d given her to wear. She stirred the contents of the pot with a wooden spoon. “And it smells delicious.”
“I think you’re a natural.”
“It’s fun. Though I’m not sure I’ll remember all that.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll write it down for you.”
“With actual measurements?”
“Yes, yes, with measurements.”
“I’ll add it to my journal so I’ll always have it.”
“My Angelica kept a journal,” Nonno said. “I buried it with her. My children were not happy with me.”
“They wanted to read it?”
“Yes, but they were Angelica’s private thoughts, and no one else’s business. Including mine.”
“My journal is online, so no one without a password can access it. It started out as a school project, but I liked it so much I kept writing.”
He patted the stool beside him. “Come, sit with me.”
She wondered if Tony had told him what the doctor said about her staying off her feet. After sitting idle for two days, it felt good to move around, to get out of the apartment. If the doctor were to ever put her on total bed rest, she would need a padded room within the first week.
“Sit. Rest,” Nonno said. “Soon we’ll start the noodles.”
Even she could boil noodles.
She rinsed her hands at the sink then sat down beside him. “How did you learn to cook?”
“My madre. She was a cook for a wealthy family in our village. She also made candy and sold it to the local merchants. I helped her.”
“What did your father do?”
“He was a merchant. But he died when I was very small.”
“Was it just you and your mom?”
“Yes, just the two of us. We had very little. Many nights we went to bed hungry.”
That certainly was something they had in common.
“You, too,” he said, and it wasn’t a question. He already knew.
“Tony told you?”
“I could see it in your eyes.” He laid a
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