Margherita's Notebook by Elisabetta Flumeri, Gabriella Giacometti

Margherita was beginning to have second thoughts.
    What if they really did fire Matteo? With the recession and all he’ll never find another job and it will be all my fault . . .
    Perhaps I should go back . . . Apologize?
    Apologize for what? Am I out of my mind? No, no way am I going to apologize! I’ll simply tell Matteo what happened and he’ll understand.
    The same voice from before tore her from her thoughts: “What exactly are you doing?”
    She turned around and saw Carla staring at her questioningly.
    â€œShall we get started?” she invited her. “Are you thinking about the menu?”
    Hateful, hateful bitch!
    â€œNo, I’m waiting for someone to open this damned gate!” she answered on impulse. “I want to leave. As you can see, I’m not a man, so if you don’t mind . . .”
    Carla put on her most radiant smile.
    â€œThere’s nothing to worry about, I’ve straightened everything out with the agency. Please, follow me,” she said as if nothing had happened. She hopped back inside her bloodred smart—what else would the Wicked Queen drive?—and indicated to Margherita, who was speechless, to follow her. “You can park your car at the rear, near the staff entrance.”
    She left, without waiting for Margherita to answer.
    Margherita was torn between wanting to leave, telling that arrogant lady to buzz off, and helping Matteo hold on to his job. In the end, this was what convinced her. With a huge sigh, she turned on the engine and followed the smart, preparing to sacrifice herself for the cause.
    â€œThis is the kitchen, you should be able to find everything you need,” said Carla in a highly professional tone, after they’d entered the villa, showing Margherita the way through the huge, perfectly equipped room. The shiny stainless steel fixtures created a pleasant contrast with the brick walls, and rising up at the center of everything was an antique fireplace and, opposite, a large glass door leading into the garden. Whoever had designed the room had made sure it was practical and, at the same time, had tried to give it a warm atmosphere by choosing antique furniture that made it look comfortable and familiar, too.
    Margherita placed her bags full of food on the counter.
    â€œIf you need anything, just give me a ring,” said Carla.
    Margherita breathed a sigh of relief.
    At least I won’t have to cook with her watching over me!
    â€œNo need to worry, I can manage on my own.”
    Carla again looked at her skeptically.
    â€œI suppose we shall see,” she remarked, and then left, adding nothing further.
    â€œI suppose we shall see,” Margherita repeated, making a face. She would gladly have served her bread laced with hemlock, but the decision had been made, and she couldn’t make Matteo look bad. So she got down to work. She’d show the blond lady that women could teach men a trick or two . . . especially when it comes to cooking! On the counter she laid out the equipment she’d brought with her for the job: saucepans, ramekins, rolling pins, spices, and all the ingredients. Then she propped up a small blackboard on the table. On it, with a piece of chalk, she wrote the menu:
    APPETIZER
    Polenta tarts with goat cheese and olive croquettes
    FIRST COURSE
    Tortellini en croûte with pigeon ragout
    SECOND COURSE
    Stuffed pork chops with dried fruit
    Parmigiano pudding
    DESSERT
    Orange crème caramel
    She looked at it for a few seconds, then erased crème caramel and replaced it with shooting stars with orange cream and mini strawberry cheesecakes.
    That’s it! More complicated to make but definitely an eye-catcher.
    And so she got down to organizing things.
    The first thing she did was debone the pigeon, chop it up, and sauté it in a terra-cotta casserole with a drizzle of oil and some chopped up vegetables. Then she tossed in ground beef and browned