“Well, let’s see if I’m still happy when I try this,” she said, laughing, waving a spoon.
“Do you have good news, Ema?” Giada asked Emanuela. “How was your first week with the new book?”
“Well, here in Italy, I am doing great! Number six on theclassifica generale, which is a list of bestsellers across different genres. I can never seem to beat those romance authors, but I’ll take it. I have another month for the English-language market, so we shall see, “she said. “You know, I wish I could do my own translations.”
“Not even Isabel Allende does her own translations,” said Ottavio. “It’s good to be zen, let it go to the universe.”
“Maybe when I sell as many books as Isabel Allende, I can afford to be zen.”
“Does everyone have a plate?Buon appetito!” Lora finally sat.
“Io no.” Nico stepped out onto the terrace, still in his tennis clothes. “Scusate, I didn’t have time to change.”
“There’s no room for you if you smell like a goat.” Andrea laughed, pouring wine into the glass set out for him.
“I didn’t sweat. Much.” Nico laid his tennis bag against a giant terra-cotta pot holding the olive tree that Lora always joked was Andrea’s first gift to her.
“Sit, sit, and pass me your plate,” said Giada. “Was it a good week?”
“Good, yes, but next week will be better.” He grinned. Nico was meeting Vilmari in Monte Carlo and then spending a few days in Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat. Vilmari had called Lora wearing a silk scarf tied around her head and dark sunglasses to announce that she was going to take Monaco by storm as the Puerto Rican Grace Kelly.
“Ah, yes! So I’ve heard! I still wish we were able to come with you,” said Lora, forking into the pasta. She took a bite and almost laughed out loud. She could not believe how good it was and how much it did not make sense that she was the one who’d made it.
“Too many campaign events?” Giada laughed.
Andrea had finally announced his plans to run for reelection when they got back from New York, but even now, in the first week of April, it looked like he would be running uncontested. And while he didn’t have to do much in the wayof convincing people to vote for him, he’d decided to hold a few town-hall-style meetings to give people a chance to be heard. So far, the meetings had turned into a mix ofReal HousewivesandBake Offas citizens took the opportunity to talk about each other while sampling their desserts and occasionally airing a grievance about the fact that the permits to gather porcini mushrooms had gone up by one euro that fall.
“Yes, the public is really pressing me on the tough issues.”
“Yes, like which band will play at the Christmas concert?” asked Vivi.
“Hey, that could be tricky. The Tramonti sisters are pushing for reggae this year.” He took a bite ofpaccheri. “Mamma mia. Brava.This is spectacular.”
“Sì, bravissima.” Carola nodded.
“You’re getting really good!” Vivi smiled. “In fact, I may ask you if you want a job now that we’re hiring.” She turned to grin at Giada, who beamed and kissed her.
“Is there something you want to tell us?” asked Ottavio.
“We got the loan! We are going to open a trattoria right here in town!”
“Don’t tell me Romina defrosted her cockles long enough to approve a loan?” Ottavio drew his hand to his forehead in feigned shock.
“She did!” said Giada. “But we also put up the house as collateral.”
“Well, nothing says ‘I believe in you’ like equity!” Ottavio laughed.
“Romina can be surprisingly open-minded,” said Lora, glancing sideways at Andrea.
“Sometimes, yes,” Andrea agreed, taking a sip of wine. He placed his left hand back on the table, his little finger resting against hers. He didn’t say anything out loud. She knew he wouldn’t. The plan was still germinating between them like a tiny seedling, not strong enough to stand up on its own out in the open—for now.
After the pasta, there was Vivi’s berrycrostata. And after that there was coffee, small glasses ofamaro—and, eventually, hugs and kisses good night. Andrea carried a stack of plates into the house while Lora packed the dishwasher, and though it was the most normal thing in the world, it would nevernotfeel extraordinary to her. She paused to watch him rinse plates in the sink, a warm feeling extending to her cheeks.
“I love you,” she said.
“Is it because I’m cleaning? It’s that acts-of-service thing, right?”
“Yes,” she said, wrapping her arms around him from behind as he worked. “But no. It’s because I do. I’m so happy. And I’m a little bit excited too. Do you think we’re crazy?”
