Page 117 of Falling Overboard

Someone handed me an apron and pushed me toward the kitchen. Giovanna spoke in rapid Italian and Maria translated everything she said for my benefit. And as we started to make the dough, nothing about it was different than what I had been doing. I’d hoped that there would be some special ingredient, some technique that I didn’t know and the Mascarellis would show me.

But so far it all seemed familiar.

Giovanna said something and Maria turned to me. “My grandmother is asking what’s wrong.”

I explained my concern and how I had made them exactly the same way but mine never turned out quite right. Maria translated and Arturo started talking and gesturing wildly with his hands as he pointed at the countertop where we were working.

“My grandfather is asking what kind of flour you use.”

“The regular kind.”

Maria said this to Arturo and he made a face of disgust and spit on the floor. Then he launched into what looked to be a serious rant, his hands moving as quickly as his mouth.

“My grandfather says you are using American flour and that is the problem. Italian flour is superior to American flour. Our wheat is softer and it is more finely ground to remove all shards of the bran. Our flour is like velvety powder. It’s why our pizzas and pasta taste so much better than yours.”

I was stunned. Was this the answer? If I had used Italian flour, would my sfogliatelle finally turn out like my nonna’s? “I can’t believe the answer is that simple.”

Hunter said, “I know people who only eat bagels from New York because they think the tap water there is superior. Something about the mineral content.”

My heart was racing. I would import Italian flour and then I would finally be able to make my nonna’s sfogliatelle the way they were meant to be made.

I hugged him with excitement.

Giovanna began to roll the dough up. Maria turned to me and said, “The dough has to chill overnight. She wants you to come back tomorrow. And you are invited to come and eat with the family now.”

“Is that okay? If we stay?” I asked Hunter.

He kissed the tip of my nose. “I want whatever you want.”

So we ate with the Mascarellis, and through Maria, Arturo and Giovanna told me story after story about my grandparents, about how they had met and how they had fallen in love. I had heard the stories before, about how my nonno had been hired to deliver for the bakery and how he was late one morning and my nonna had thrown a wooden spoon at his head. It had been love at first sight for him. My nonna said he’d had to convince her and that, even though he hadn’t known it back then, she was more than willing.

“My grandmother says that your grandfather always said that Lucia was his lucky star.”

At that my heart stuttered in my chest. It felt like a sign from my grandparents. Like them giving Hunter and me their blessing.

“I didn’t know that,” I whispered back. My nonno had died when I was so young and I had no memories of them together.

Hunter’s arm tightened around me. I said to him, “My mom always told me that my nonna had picked my nickname, but I never knew the reason why.”

“Now you do.”

Even though I couldn’t understand most of the conversations happening around me, what I did feel was the love. The love in the food, in the company, and the love I had for Hunter, who had arranged this for me. Who had given me something I had thought was lost forever.

I laced my fingers through his and he kissed my hand while laughing at a story Maria was telling us.

This was turning out to be a completely perfect day. Laughter, family, love, and great Italian food.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt this happy.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Lucky

We spent the entire day with the Mascarellis. I felt a little guilty, thinking that maybe we should have left sooner so that they could focus on their daily routine, but they’d insisted that they show me the correct way to make every pastry and bread that their bakery sold.

Hours later, it was finally time to go. We couldn’t keep imposing on this poor family. I promised Maria that we’d return in the morning to work on the sfogliatelle and said goodbye to everyone else.

When we got outside Hunter took me by the hand. “Dinner?”

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