“Really?” Joy glanced around.
“A large room over there, red paint on the walls . . .”
“Red paint?” Joy twisted her lips as if she smelled excrement on the floor.
“My reaction exactly.” Gianna laughed. “Angelina is too wild for my father.”
Joy thought about it.
“Rocco likes her though.” She shook her head. “He says Dad needs a challenge.”
Joy’s eyebrows rose.
“Bene. Let’s begin . . .” Gianna started with ripe stewed tomatoes and poured them into the pot, followed by a mix of sausage, veal, and beef, enhancing the flavors with a generous splash of wine. Stirring it on medium heat, Joy inhaled the aroma.
“Delicious.” She closed her eyes, imagining herself on a road in Tuscany. “It takes me away to the Italian countryside.”
“My grandmother’s recipe.” Oregano, basil, salt, and pepper were sprinkled in, each ingredient added with care. Finally Gianna added a pinch of sugar to bring out the natural sweetness of the tomatoes, completing the rich, aromatic sauce.
Joy grinned while watching her and her heart grew warm. I hope I can pass on a legacy to Jaime.
At the other kitchen island, Dina and Christiana chatted, with hand gestures of course, as they cooked the pasta.
Joy helped prepare vegetables for the salads, slicing cucumbers, bell peppers, and tomatoes, smiling as she worked. There’s just something about cooking.
When all the food and bread were prepared, everyone gathered around a long table set outside on the back patio for lunch alfresco.
Sitting quietly next to Dina, Joy shivered from excitement as she anticipated eating the food she helped prepare. She sipped her wine and observed the family as they told stories, laughed, and ate the delicious meal. Breaking bread together with Alessandro’s family would forever remain in her heart.
The stories of Christiana’s late husband, Marcello, went on. Joy laughed as she watched how animated the men became as they spoke of their friend, brother, and father. Using their hands and arms, they described his belly, his shoulders, and his walk, as well as how he chuckled. Joy couldn’t help but laugh along with them.
“He must have been something else.”
“He was,” Dina replied.
After an hour, a dull pain in Joy’s legs and back pounded from all the sitting. “I think I need to move.” A stroll was in order and would do the trick. She scooted her chair back and stood. “I need a walk.” She stretched her arms.
“Excellent idea,” Gianna said. She gathered plates and cups. “You and Dad go for a stroll. He’ll show you the garden.”
“Garden?” Joy turned to Alessandro.
“Yes. I’ll show you. It’s a very special place.” His eyes twinkled at the mention of the garden, and he smiled at her. Joy’s face grew warm from blushing.
Joy and Alessandro walked along the gravel path that led away from the house toward a fenced garden area with an archway entrance. As the sun lowered in the west, the shadows stretched across the bright green grass. The beauty gripped her middle, taking her breath away.
Joy jolted and clutched her chest. “Oh my goodness.”
Alessandro glanced around. “It’s beautiful, no?”
“No.” Her eyes widened.
“No? What is it, Joy?”
“No, I mean the sky is lovely. It’s just that—Who is back in Venice watching the flower shop?” Her wide eyes filled with anxiety. “I just realized we left it open.”
He tossed his head back and laughed.
“I’m serious. Dina and Vito are here, and so am I. Who’s watching the shop?”
After he composed himself, Alessandro gently patted her shoulder. “No worries. Okay? Today they closed the shop for mourning.”
Joy raised her chin. “Ah . . . yes. Mourning. I completely forgot.”
He chuckled again. “I thought perhaps you saw a snake.”
Joy strolled along. “No. I was just wondering about—” She froze in mid-step. “A snake?” Jerking left, then right, she frantically searched the area.
“I am kidding.” He laughed even more. “I’m joking. There are no snakes here.”
Joy clutched her chest yet again. “Oh, good. I cannot stand snakes.”
They continued on their stroll toward the garden until they reached its entrance.
“Well?” Alessandro stood at the archway and waved Joy through.
Clasping her hands, she stepped into the sanctuary of the garden about a quarter of an acre long. “This . . . is magical.” A rush of peace flowed over her, calming her spirit.
