Rosalia's Bittersweet Pastry Shop by Rosanna Chiofalo Page B

back home.”
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    A few hours later, Rosalia was seated at one of two long rectangular tables where the sisters and the lay workers who lived at the convent took their meals. The convent had no formal dining room, and there was no space in the kitchen for the tables, so the only place the nuns could fit them was in a corridor. Fortunately, the corridor was only a few feet from the kitchen, so that the nuns weren’t forced to walk a long distance carrying heavy pots and platters filled with food.
    Madre Carmela had insisted Rosalia, as the guest of honor, sit at the head of the table where Madre Carmela normally sat. Rosalia couldn’t help but notice Sorella Domenica frown when Madre Carmela had first suggested she sit in her seat. Her new friend, Anunziata, sat to her right.
    â€œRosalia, I was thinking maybe I can come visit you on my days off. You can show me around your town.” Anunziata was twirling her long braid around her finger, something Rosalia had noticed she did habitually whenever she seemed anxious. Anunziata’s hair reminded her of the amber color of honey.
    â€œI would love it if you came to visit me in Terme Vigliatore, Anunziata. And I will come visit you and everyone else here, too.”
    â€œYou must promise, Rosalia. We have had people here who were passing by and swore they would come back, but never did. Please swear you won’t be one of those people.” Anunziata held her stare.
    â€œI promise. Besides, I could never turn my back on the women who saved me.” Rosalia reached over and squeezed her new friend’s hand.
    Anunziata smiled before excusing herself. “I’m going to help the sisters bring the food out.”
    â€œLet me help, too.” Rosalia began to stand, but Anunziata placed a firm hand on her shoulder.
    â€œYou are the guest of honor.”
    Rosalia thought of protesting, but knew it wouldn’t amount to much. Madre Carmela and everyone else had treated her like a guest of honor for most of her stay at the convent. She was almost surprised they had let her help out with the pastry making. Rosalia sighed. While she was thrilled she would be with her family again soon, she was also a bit sad that she would no longer be a part of creating the most amazing pastries. She had thoroughly enjoyed watching the workers and learning from them. And when she made a sweet, and it came out just as it should, Rosalia felt a tremendous sense of fulfillment she’d never felt before.
    Her eyes traveled around the two immense dining tables. Each seated twelve people. There were fifteen nuns and five lay workers in residence at the convent. But the convent also employed six workers from the village who did not live on the premises. All the lay workers were women. At nineteen years old, Anunziata was the youngest of the lay workers. The convent had taken her in along with two other orphan girls during the war. Anunziata’s father had been killed while he fought as part of Mussolini’s army in Ethiopia. And her mother had died while giving birth to Anunziata’s stillborn brother. The other two orphans had left the convent when they turned eighteen and had found jobs that would allow them to live on their own. Though Madre Carmela had encouraged Anunziata to pursue other opportunities outside of the convent, she had no interest in leaving. She was also a skilled baker who had a talent for adding new twists to classic pastries.
    The oldest lay worker was a woman in her sixties whose real name was Mariuccia, but everyone called her Mari. Anunziata had told Rosalia that there had been some scandal in Mari’s youth that had brought her to the convent, but Anunziata had not been able to pry from the other nuns or lay workers what Mari’s sordid past was. Though Rosalia was curious, she didn’t think it was right for Anunziata to be snooping around and hoping that the other workers would gossip with her and reveal what Mari’s