Rosalia's Bittersweet Pastry Shop (39 page)

Antonio looked at his granddaughter. Worry was etched across his features, and he looked as if he was about to turn down Teresa's offer, but then the young girl spoke up.

“That is fine, Nonno. I am tired. I can rest. Take your time talking to your friend.”

The girl spoke perfect Italian, but there was a definite French accent. So they did still live in France.

Sorella Agata walked over to her and extended her hand. “I am Sorella Agata. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“I thought your name was Rosalia?” The girl looked from her to her grandfather, confused.

“Ah. Yes, that is, I mean
was,
my name before I became a nun. Once we take our vows, we choose new names.”

“I'm sorry, Rosalia. I should have asked—” Antonio looked slightly uncomfortable.

Sorella Agata held up her hand. “Please, don't worry. Teresa and Sorella Lucia still forget and call me Rosalia from time to time.”

“
Piacere,
Sorella. My name is Veronique.”

Antonio lightly slapped his forehead. “I'm sorry I didn't introduce you sooner. This is my granddaughter. I don't know what is wrong with me today. Too much excitement, I suppose.”

“Sorella Lucia, Teresa, please make sure Veronique is comfortable and bring her something to drink and a few of our pastries.”

Veronique followed Sorella Lucia and Teresa, and though Teresa had started regaling the young woman with tales of her grandfather from when he was an apprentice at the convent, Sorella Agata noticed it looked as if Veronique's attention was elsewhere. Why was she so sad?

“You must be tired as well, Antonio. Please, let me get you an espresso. Do you want another slice of
Torta Savoia
—that is, if you really had no objections to how it tasted?” Sorella Agata raised an eyebrow.

“Ah! I see it bothered you when you thought you had a customer questioning your expertise? I'm glad to see not everything has changed with you, Rosa—I mean, Sorella Agata.”

An awkward silence followed before Sorella Agata excused herself to get their cups of espresso. She cut an extra-large slice of cake for Antonio, but while she was behind the display case, she quickly broke off a small piece of cake and tasted it. Intense hazelnut and rich chocolate greeted her, and the rum was discernible but not overly potent. The
Torta Savoia
was how it should be. Nothing was wrong with it. Antonio had been joking with Teresa after all. Placing the plates of cake slices and cups of espresso on a platter, she carried them out to Antonio, who she saw had stepped outside and seated himself at one of the tables.

“It is still as beautiful and serene here as I remember it.” Antonio's eyes scanned the courtyard and gardens.

“Not much has changed out here, but we have made a few renovations, especially in the abandoned chapel where you used to sleep. I will have to take you there later and show it to you.”

“I would like that.”

They glanced at each other for a moment, and Sorella Agata quickly looked away. Was he also thinking about the time he had taken her to the abandoned chapel, when he had told her for the first time he was falling in love with her?

“Your granddaughter is beautiful.”

“
Grazie.
I treasure her.”

Sorella Agata was about to ask him about his wife when Antonio surprised her with his next question.

“And you, Rosalia? Are you happy?”

Sorella Agata was about to correct him, but didn't want to make things any more awkward than they already were.

“I am. Since I received God's calling to become a nun and serve Him, I have been so fulfilled. As I'm sure you saw, the pastry shop is doing better than ever, which has helped greatly not only to keep our convent running, but also to support a women's shelter I founded in town.”

“I have heard about the shelter and all the wonderful things you have done for those women. Naturally, I was not surprised to hear of your work there after what you'd been through.”

“Helping these women has helped with my own healing, just as the pastries helped me find a sense of purpose in those first dark days after Madre Carmela had rescued me.”

“How is Madre? I forgot to ask Teresa if she is still alive.”

“She is, but I have taken over her mother superior duties. She is getting quite up there in years, and it was too much for her. I am also the head pastry chef at the shop now.”

“I heard that as well. And I have heard about the controversy with your
cassata
.”

“Who has been talking about me so much to you?”

“Teresa told me about your being mother superior and the head pastry chef now, but I actually had heard about the shelter elsewhere. We have a lot to talk about, but first I must ask you, did you ever find your family?”

“Yes and no.”

Sorella Agata told Antonio everything, from how she had been reunited with her mother and had learned about Luca's death to how they had not been able to locate her father and Cecilia.

“So bittersweet, my friend. I'm sorry. You have had more than your share of heartache in this life, and still, you find it in yourself to help others. I always knew you were amazing, Rosalia, but now that I see what a wonderful woman you have become, I am even more floored.”

“It has been hard work to get to where I am now. And I still struggle at times, wondering why my family and I have suffered so much. But it is not for us to know God's plans for us. We must place our faith in Him and do our best.”

Antonio pressed his lips tightly together. “I suppose you are right. My faith in God has been tested, and I must be honest, I do not know if it will ever be restored.”

Without thinking, Sorella Agata placed her hand over Antonio's, which rested on the table.

“We all go through difficult times, Antonio. And we all are tested. Please, do not abandon God. He will be there for you during your most trying times.”

Antonio sighed deeply, but remained silent. Sorella Agata removed her hand from his. It pained her to see her old friend like this. She wondered what had happened to make him question his faith.

“So I take it you are still looking for your father and sister?”

“Not actively. I'm afraid I have run up against a wall and have simply not been able to find out more. But I still pray every day to God that if He wills it, as He did with my mother, He might let me be reunited with them someday—or at least learn what became of them. After so many years, I have found a way to make my peace with everything that happened and with the very real possibility that I may never see the last of my surviving family members. That is, if Cecilia and Papà are still alive.”

Antonio sighed. “I suppose that is all you can ask for. I am just glad to see you have managed to make a fulfilling life for yourself in spite of your losses.”

“Please, Antonio. Tell me all that you have been up to since you left for Paris. I have thought of you often and wondered if you were cooking in some of Paris's best restaurants.”

“You thought of me often?” Antonio sounded surprised.

“I have. I hoped you were well and happy. I hoped in your heart you knew that I never meant to hurt you all those years ago. I truly am sorry, Antonio. I never should have told you that you were the same as Marco. How could I have made such a comparison? You were always kind to me and patient. I wasn't in my right mind when I said those words, but mostly, I was scared. You see, I've come to realize, Antonio, that the reason I said those terrible things to you and pushed you away is that I was afraid of letting go of my family—letting go of the idea of finding them. I think part of me thought if I married you and moved to Paris, I would in essence be starting this new life without them. I know you told me the move would've been temporary, and I know you are a man of your word, but it was easier for me to believe you would not have moved back to Sicily. Please know, Antonio, I did care about you, and in my own way, I loved you, too. But I came to see I was nowhere near ready to commit to any man. It was still too soon after what Marco had done to me. You deserved to be with someone who could give you so much more than I could.”

“
Grazie
for telling me all of this, Rosalia, I mean, Sorella Agata. Forgive me, but it is still hard to get used to calling you by a different name.”

“I'm sure it must have been a shock for you to learn that I had become a nun.” Sorella Agata smiled.

“It was at first. But the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. I often thought about you, too, and only wanted you to be happy as well. I can see, from the way you talk about the work you've accomplished in the shop and at the shelter, you have found peace and contentment in your life. But as your old friend, I must also be frank with you. I can see there is still a sadness in your eyes that has been there since I first met you that day, out here in the courtyard, when you were chasing that bluethroat. And now that you have told me how you still long to be reunited with your father and sister, I know that is where your sadness stems from.”

“You always were able to read me so well. The ache was much less when Mamma was here with me. I am so grateful to God that I had that time with her. But enough about me. Please. Don't keep me in suspense any longer. Did you become a great chef? And naturally, you must've married since you have a granddaughter.”

Antonio's eyes narrowed.

“Paris was wonderful. It was everything I had imagined it to be and more. I did complete my studies at Le Cordon Bleu, and I was head chef at three renowned restaurants in Paris. So like you, I have been very successful and am proud of my accomplishments. I did meet a very nice French woman whom I married. Her name was Claudette. I met her three years after I moved to Paris. Believe it or not, I was pining for you all that time and would not allow myself to date anyone. The naïve young man I once was believed you would have a change of heart.”

Sorella Agata blushed.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you that. I don't want you to feel bad. As you said, God has His plans for us, and He didn't think we would be a good fit. We probably would've killed each other, each trying to best the other with our baking!” Antonio laughed.

Sorella Agata joined him. “That is true! We were quite competitive!”

“As I was saying, I met Claudette three years after I moved to Paris. We got married two years later. She was a dear woman, very sweet and patient. Eventually, I opened up my own restaurant in Paris. Claudette helped me manage it. We had only one child—a son we named Giovanni. He was all that a father could hope for in a son—kind, honest, hardworking. Giovanni followed in my footsteps and was training to become a chef. He worked at my restaurant in the evenings, and during the day he was in culinary school. When he was twenty-one, he began dating Noelle, one of the waitresses at my restaurant, and then the following year they were married. They had Veronique a year later. We were all so happy, working together at the restaurant, helping Giovanni and Noelle raise Veronique. Our restaurant was doing well, too. But then two years after Veronique was born, there was a fire at the restaurant. It was during the afternoon. Giovanni was prepping for the night's dinner, and Claudette and Noelle were there helping him. I had a meeting with a vendor, so I wasn't there. Fortunately, Noelle's parents were watching Veronique that day. I'm not sure what happened, how the fire got started, but it destroyed the entire restaurant and killed my wife, son, and daughter-in-law. So Veronique was left orphaned at only two years old. I have raised her since. Noelle's parents wanted to raise her, but I was quite staunch in my insistence that I raise her. I think they didn't have the heart to take her away from me after I had lost my wife and son.”

“Oh, Antonio! I am so, so sorry! Now I understand what you meant when you said your faith has been tested.”

Antonio took a sip of his espresso. “There's more. Although I was upset with God for taking away my wife and only son and making my granddaughter an orphan, I still went to church and prayed. It is what happened later that has made me greatly question my faith.

“After the fire, I took a job working as a chef in a restaurant. I didn't have the energy or the heart to open another restaurant without my wife and son to help me. I also had to think about Veronique. She needed me, and the hours that would've been required had I started another business would've made it nearly impossible for me to be an adequate caretaker. Noelle's parents watched her while I worked at the restaurant in the evenings. They were a godsend.

“But a few months ago, Veronique and I decided to move back to Sicily.”

“How old is she? Eighteen?”

“She's only fifteen, but she is often mistaken for being older, even as old as her early twenties. She's very beautiful, as you noticed.”

“I did. But I also couldn't help but notice how sad she is, Antonio.”

Pain flashed through his eyes.

“I am getting to that. So as I was saying, we moved back to Sicily a few months ago. I bought a small
trattoria,
just outside of Santa Lucia del Mela.”

“You have been here for a few months, and you've only come by to visit now?”

“At first, I was busy getting the restaurant up and running. And once that happened, I wanted to come see you, but I must admit I couldn't help remembering how upset you had been with me when we argued, not long before I moved to Paris. I was afraid that maybe you would not receive me so well, even after all these years. Though I knew you didn't mean what you said that day, I didn't want to upset you, and I had no idea where your life had taken you or even if you were still here. So I needed some time to gather the strength to come back here to find out what had happened to you, and, if you were still here, to confront you. But I should've known all along that we would still be the good friends we were all those years ago.”