Rosalia's Bittersweet Pastry Shop (18 page)

He watched her now out of the corner of his eye. He didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable. She was finally beginning to let her guard down around him, and he didn't want to risk alienating her again. She seemed to be enjoying their walk and looked relaxed. Maybe he could finally ask her the question he'd been wanting to ask since that day they had danced at the feast. Or was it still too soon? The impulsive side of him couldn't wait any longer. He would ask her and deal with the consequences afterward.

“Rosalia, I was wondering how you will be spending the day after Christmas since the shop will be closed and the nuns aren't expecting us to work that day.”

“I hadn't really thought about it. I'll just rest in my room.”

“Have you ever been to Messina?”

“I used to go with my father sometimes when he needed to buy fabric. He was a tailor and had his own shop.”

“A tailor? That's fine work. He must've been a very good one.”

“He was. He made the most beautiful men's suits.”

“So you've been to the Cathedral of Messina?”

“No, I haven't. Papà said he would take me one day when we weren't so busy, but he was always in a rush to return to the shop. He did treat me to
gelato
sometimes.” Rosalia felt a pang in her chest when she remembered her trips to the city with her father. She used to look forward to them so much.

“Would you like to visit the cathedral with me?”

Rosalia stopped walking. “Go all the way to Messina?”

“It's not that far.”

“I don't know. Are any of the other girls coming? Like Anunziata?”

“They have plans already. I overheard them talking about what they would be doing the day after Christmas.”

Rosalia was a little hurt that the other girls hadn't asked her if she wanted to join them on whatever excursion they were taking the day after Christmas. Then again, she supposed she couldn't blame them. Except for the feast of Saint Lucy, she had said no every time they asked her to go out with them.

“You'll be safe with me, Rosalia. I promise you.”

Rosalia looked at Antonio. How did he know she was afraid to be alone with him? Had her fear been that evident?

She felt torn. On the one hand, it would be nice to go back to Messina and finally visit the cathedral her father had always promised he'd take her to. But on the other, she wasn't sure about spending so much time alone with Antonio.

She couldn't go. She wasn't ready. It was all too much, too soon. Just as she was about to tell Antonio she couldn't go with him, she was startled by a quick motion that flashed before her eyes.

“Look at that! The bluethroat you were following the first day I met you.” Antonio pointed to the fountain that surrounded the statue of Saint Lucy, where the bird was dipping its beak as it drank. “That's odd. I've never seen him out here at night when I'm walking back to the abandoned chapel. I have spotted him a few times during the day, especially in the morning. He likes to sit on that branch by that window.” Antonio pointed to Rosalia's window.

“I know. That's my bedroom. He comes and visits me every morning. I feed him.”

“He likes you.” Antonio grinned.

Rosalia looked at the bluethroat, which had stopped drinking and was just sitting on the fountain's ledge. It turned its head and once more seemed to be looking at her. Whenever the bird did this, she always felt a shiver go through her. But its presence comforted her more than anything else.

“So have you decided? Will you come to the cathedral with me? We could even visit a couple of the pastry shops there and compare their pastries to ours. You can think of it as an educational outing if that makes you feel better.”

Rosalia could feel her resolve weakening. It was true. They could learn a lot by visiting the pastry shops in Messina. Then, a thought came to her. Perhaps her family had moved to Messina? Why not? It was a large city that no doubt needed tailors, and her father was familiar with it from all his trips there to buy fabric. The fabric store! That was it! She would go to the fabric store her father visited whenever he went to Messina to restock his tailor shop. The fabric store owner knew her father and would remember if he'd been there recently. And if she didn't get anywhere there, she could inquire at other establishments in the city to see if perhaps anyone had come into contact with her family. It was a long shot, but at least she would be actively doing something to search for them instead of waiting to hear from L'ispettore Franco.

“All right. I'll come with you.”

Antonio's eyes shone. “You will?”

“
Si.
It will be nice to visit the cathedral and see what pastries the shops in Messina are selling. It could inspire us in our own creations.”

“That's true. I promise you, you'll have a good time.”

“If you don't mind, I think I'll head up to my room now. We still have a busy day tomorrow since it's Christmas Eve and the shop will be closing early.”

“Of course. I'll walk you back to the convent's entrance.”

“That's all right. I'll be fine.
Buona notte,
Antonio.”

“
Buona notte.
”

Antonio waited until Rosalia reached the convent's entrance. She looked over her shoulder and waved before stepping inside. He waved and turned around, heading to the abandoned chapel. But when he reached the fountain of Saint Lucy, where they'd been talking earlier, he stopped and looked up toward where Rosalia had indicated her bedroom window was. The light was on. He saw a shadow cast over the sheer curtains that hung behind the window, and then the light went out.

“
Buona notte,
Rosalia,” he whispered before turning away and continuing home. His spirits were high as he whistled a tune softly to himself. Now he only had to get through tomorrow and Christmas before he would have Rosalia to himself for an entire day. He would make sure it was a day she would never forget.

13

Fior di Mandorla

CHEWY ALMOND COOKIES

 

 

 

 

R
osalia felt hopeful—an emotion she hadn't felt since that day she had returned to her hometown expecting to be reunited with her family. She was riding in the back of a pickup truck with Antonio. He had asked the man who delivered flour to the convent if they could get a ride with him to Messina. Though she was also a little nervous that she would be spending the entire day alone with Antonio, her hope that she would find some information about her family outweighed her anxiety.

Madre Carmela had given Antonio permission to take Rosalia to Messina. She seemed happy that Rosalia would be getting out and having a day away from the convent. Rosalia had promised Madre that she would find out all she could about the pastries that were being served in the shops in Messina.

“Don't worry about that, my girl. Have a good time. Relax. Take in the sights. Be sure to take her to the Duomo and the Santissima dei Annunziata dei Catalani church, Antonio.”

“You have been to Messina?” Rosalia had asked Madre, surprised. She couldn't picture the nun anywhere other than Santa Lucia del Mela and the convent.

“Of course. It is a wonderful city.”

So with Madre Carmela's blessing they were on their way. Rosalia was enjoying the ride to Messina and just feeling her hair blow softly in the breeze as she drifted off to sleep. Thankfully, Antonio had left Rosalia to her thoughts instead of talking. About an hour later, she was awakened by a blaring car horn.

“We're here!” Antonio shouted above the traffic's din.

“I can see and hear that.” Rosalia smiled faintly, trying to force herself to wake up. “What time is it?”

“Just about ten o'clock. We ran into some traffic and lost about twenty minutes.”

Rosalia nodded her head as she scanned their surroundings. They were approaching the Piazza del Duomo. Soon, Rosalia could see the Duomo—Messina's famous cathedral. Papà had taken her a few times to see the Duomo's clock, which was known for its mechanical figures that moved when the clock struck noon every day.

“Are you ready?” Antonio held out a hand for Rosalia as she stepped out of the truck.

“How will we get back to the convent?” Rosalia asked.

“A friend of mine who lives in Messina agreed to give us a ride. He'll meet up with us later in the day.”

Rosalia pushed away the fear that seeped into her mind upon hearing she would be alone with two boys on the car trip back to the convent. She knew she would be safe with Antonio. She needed to stop worrying.

“Are you hungry? I know it's early for lunch, but I thought we could begin our research of the pastry shops right away, and while we're there, we might as well have an espresso and sample the sweets.”

“
Si.
I'm hungry.” Rosalia rubbed her stomach and laughed.

Antonio reached for her hand and led her across the piazza. She felt strange holding his hand, but she didn't pull her hand out of his grasp. They entered a shop called Dolci di Duomo. Many patrons waited in line, and most of the tables were taken. Antonio spotted a couple leaving a table that was tucked in a corner of the shop.

“Quick, Rosalia.” He gestured toward the table with his hand, and she hurried over.

Antonio waited in line. She hadn't told him what she wanted, but it didn't matter. She would have whatever he ordered. She saw this shop had an assortment of marzipan fruit, but their selection featured large apples, pears, oranges. The marzipan fruit at the convent's shop were smaller. Baskets of different biscotti in cellophane bags, tied with ribbons of red, green, and white—the colors of the Italian flag—stood on either end of the very long counter. She looked around to see what the patrons seated at the tables next to her were eating. Several had biscotti to go with their espressos or cappuccinos. A few had brioche with
granita;
even though the weather wasn't as hot as it was in the summer, she supposed people still loved having
granita
for breakfast. She then noticed many of the customers had puffy
S
-shaped cookies that were dusted with powdered sugar. She'd seen these cookies at the convent's pastry shop, but had not paid them much mind. But here, they seemed to be the popular sweet.

“
Mi dispiace,
Rosalia. I forgot to ask you what you wanted before you walked away, and I didn't want to lose my place in line with all of these customers. So I had to take a guess. If you don't like these, I'll get you something else. And I suppose you're all right with an espresso?”

Antonio looked worried. It hadn't occurred to Rosalia that he might have anxieties of his own about today. She was touched that he was so concerned about something as trivial as what she would eat and drink.

“I'm sure everything tastes wonderful in here or else they wouldn't be so busy.” She gave him an encouraging smile. His face seemed to relax as he put down a small tray with a plate of the same cookies that Rosalia had seen most of the customers eating and two cups of espresso.

“That's funny! I was wondering what these cookies are, especially since it seems like they're the popular sweet at this shop. Madre Carmela has these in her shop, but I've never paid any attention to them and have no idea what's in them.”

“So I did well then?” Antonio's face beamed with pride.

“
Si.
This will be a good test since we don't sell a lot of these cookies at the shop. There must be a reason why they're so popular here. Maybe we can figure out their secret ingredient?”

“I like that. We can be pastry detectives today!” Antonio laughed. “Actually, when I realized I hadn't asked you what you wanted, I asked the man in front of me if he knew what were a few of the shop's most famous sweets, and he told me these were the most popular. They're called
Fior di Mandorla
.”

Rosalia took a bite out of a cookie and was surprised at its chewy texture and intense burst of almond flavor. Her eyes opened wide, showing her immense pleasure.

“That good, huh?” Antonio laughed before taking a bite out of one of his cookies. “Ah!
Buonissimo!
”

“I wonder if these taste as good at our shop,” Rosalia said before taking another bite.

“Well, we'll have to see when we get back tonight. We must try them as soon as we return so we don't forget what these tasted like.”

After they were done eating their cookies and drinking their espressos, they walked around the Piazza del Duomo and made their way toward the Orion Fountain. Rosalia remembered her father's telling her about the fountain one of the times they had come to see the Duomo's clock. The fountain featured statues that represented four rivers: the Tiber, the Nile, the Ebro, and the Camaro.

Once they reached the fountain, Antonio stopped walking and glanced at his watch.

“I thought we'd just take a break here and wait until noon so we can see the moving figures on the Duomo's clock. We still have an hour, so if you'd rather walk around more and come back, we can do that.”

“Would you mind if we did walk around until close to the time? I wanted to do a little window shopping.” Rosalia blushed slightly at her little lie. She didn't know yet how she would explain to Antonio that her real reason for wanting to browse along the main shopping thoroughfare was to inquire about her family.

“Of course. That will be fun.”

Rosalia felt bad suddenly that she had lied to Antonio. Here he was going out of his way to make sure she would have a good time, and she was going to be deceitful and even try to find an excuse so she could go into the shops alone to make her inquiries. Her thoughts then drifted to Marco. He was a liar. And she didn't want to do anything that remotely resembled his behavior.

Taking a deep breath, Rosalia reached for Antonio's arm, stopping him from walking away from the fountain.

“I'm sorry, Antonio. I'm afraid I haven't been completely honest with you about my reasons for coming with you to Messina today. I don't want to lie to you. You've been nothing but kind to me since we've met.”

Antonio's eyes filled with concern. “What is it, Rosalia? Please know you can trust me with anything. I don't want you to be afraid around me, and I want you to feel like you can be honest with me.”

Rosalia let go of his arm and turned her back to him as she took a few steps closer to the fountain. She focused on the sprays of water that were streaming from the fountain.

“Do you remember when I told you I lost my family and needed to find them?” She looked over her shoulder, seeing Antonio nod before she turned back around. She was afraid if she didn't keep her head turned away from him as she spoke that she would break down crying.

“I was hoping that I could ask a few of the shopkeepers here if they had seen my family, especially at the store where my father purchased his fabric for his tailor shop. I want to know if my father has been back recently. Who knows? Maybe my family decided to move to Messina, and perhaps a few of the other shopkeepers might've seen them.”

“I see. We can do that, Rosalia. That's fine. But . . .” Antonio's voice trailed off. He was about to continue, but stopped again. “I'm sorry, Rosalia, but I must ask again. What happened to your family? How is it that you're separated from them? Wouldn't they be looking for you?”

Rosalia's eyes quickly filled with tears. She turned. Her gaze met Antonio's for a brief moment before she glanced away again, trying to fight back the tears, but it was no use. The thought that her family had stopped looking for her and had been able to move away so soon after receiving Marco's ugly letter was too much for her to bear in this moment.

“I'm sorry, Rosalia. I didn't mean to upset you.”

Antonio placed his hand on her shoulder, and before Rosalia could think better about what she was doing, she leaned into him, letting him cradle her as she surrendered herself to her emotions. Antonio waited patiently until she stopped crying. He pulled a handkerchief out of his trousers pocket and patted her tears dry before placing the handkerchief in her hand. Again, she couldn't believe how tender he was with her.

“You didn't upset me, Antonio. It's hard for me still to accept that they're gone. I have to find them. I just have to.”

Antonio nodded his head thoughtfully. She could see he still wanted to ask her more questions, but didn't want to upset her any further.

“I want to tell you, Antonio, what happened to me, but I'm not ready yet. All I will say is that I was separated from my family, and they were led to believe something false about me. They went through a very difficult time and had no choice but to leave my hometown. They . . . they thought I was gone and would not be returning. It's not like they abandoned me, Antonio.”

He patted her shoulder and said, “Of course not. How could anyone abandon you? You're an angel.”

She glanced down at the handkerchief he'd given her, twisting it around her index finger.

“Rosalia, you don't have to tell me everything that happened. When you're ready, I'll be here. Like I said before, you can trust me.”

“
Grazie,
Antonio.”

“Let's go make a few of those inquiries. Do you remember how to get to the fabric store where your father used to shop?”

“
Si.
I'm sure the owner will remember me. I came to Messina with my father earlier this year.”

They walked toward Via Garibaldi; in this neighborhood, many shops lined the streets. Rosalia felt like she was going back in time, imagining she was walking the streets with her father instead of Antonio. For a moment, she wished she were having a bad dream and that everything that had happened to her during the past few months wasn't real. She then remembered what Madre Carmela had told her. She must place her trust in God and ask Him to help her through this difficult period. Silently, she prayed.

“There's a fabric store right there. Is that the one your father shopped at, Rosalia?”

Rosalia looked to where Antonio pointed.
Merceria Mandanici.

“
Si,
that's it.” She stopped walking as a cold shiver washed over her. Her heart began to race. She closed her eyes and prayed to God once more.
Please, God, let me find out something.

“Are you all right, Rosalia?” Antonio looked at her with concern.

She nodded her head. “I'm just a little nervous and hoping Signore Mandanici, the owner of the shop, can tell me something about my family—though I know the odds are slim.”

“It's a start. If he has no information for you, don't be discouraged.” Antonio grabbed her hand and gave it a tight squeeze before leading her to the shop.

They stepped into the store and saw Signore Mandanici was finishing up a sale. While they waited to talk to him, Rosalia inhaled deeply the scents of all the fabrics lining the shelves. They were comforting scents, for she was reminded of the times she had come here with her father, when they had discussed which fabrics to buy. They had also purchased their fabrics here for the clothes Rosalia's mother would sew for the family. Rosalia remembered buying a beautiful bolt of lavender cotton once for a summer dress her mother had made for her. Rosalia took a deep breath before the memories consumed her.