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Three Months Later
CARA KNEW ROMAN WOULD BE showing up at any minute, but before she even saw him, she felt a shift in the air. Anticipation, she supposed. Was he on his way yet? Any change in the air would be good, because the air surrounding her was currently hot and stifling, with a dozen mini pizzas baking in the wood-fired oven behind her.
In front of her, twelve kids were lined up along the counter, blending up the ingredients for the decadent chocolate dessert Torta Barozzi.
“Mmm,” said Peter, a ten-year-old kid with giant glasses that he had to keep pushing up his nose and a habit of sticking his finger into whatever he was making and taste testing. Cara had given up reprimanding him on the third week of her kids’ cooking class.
Correction, the La Grigila Cooking with Kids class.
Yeah, Cara had returned to the hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant and signed on to teach the next round of classes. When the owner, Mattia, found out her credentials, he tried to talk her out of it, telling her she was overqualified. That he couldn’t afford her.
She’d told him she’d do it for whatever they’d paid the last instructor. She didn’t mention she’d be happy to do it for free, but that might be happening anyway. It was a surprise that she was waiting to tell Roman.
He’d brought Mia out for a week while he met with a bunch of movie people about doing a pilot—nearby in LA, which meant that he could potentially be in town for months if the series was picked up. Cara couldn’t wait, although she was happy to travel back and forth, or Roman would. But living in the same state would be a bonus.
“Mix slower,” Cara told Gwenie, a seven-year-old who always wore her signature flowered beanie, even though she had to be hot.
Gwenie slowed down, but only just.
“Like this?” Mia piped up.
Cara looked at the end where she sat. “Yes, very good.”
The kids were all darling, and she loved their questions. She also loved that their parents and other select customers would come on Saturdays to sample what the kids had baked. The class was on Saturday mornings before the restaurant opened for lunch.
The timer went off, and Peter threw up his hands. “Hooray!”
She didn’t know why he always said that when the timer went off, but she laughed. “Let’s see how they look.” She lifted one mini pizza out with a giant spatula.
“Oh, that’s mine!” Robby called out.
“Yep. What do you think? Is it ready?”
Everyone waited for Robby to answer.
“It’s browned at the edges, and all the cheese is bubbling,” he said in what sounded like a rehearsed tone. “It’s done, Ms. Prosper.”
“Does everyone else agree?” Cara asked the class as a whole.
“Yes,” they all chorused.
Cara set the pizza in front of Robby. “Now, we’ll wait for your parents to show up so they can try it too.”
“Yay,” Gwenie said.
Cara brought out each of the other mini pizzas in turn, and let the creator declare if the pizza was cooked all the way through. Once all the pizzas were out, she said, “What’s the next step?”
“Reset the oven!” they all chorused again.
Cara smiled and adjusted the temperature for the dessert. She handed out the pizza cutters, then let the little chefs-in-the-making cut up their pies. Next, she set out small pans that the kids then poured their Torta Barozzi into.
Once the desserts were in the oven, the place bloomed with the scent of chocolate. It was about that time that the parents arrived. The next hour was spent with chatter and laughter, then cleanup. The parent-tasting had become tradition, and Cara had most students wanting to return for the next round of classes.
When cleanup was finally completed, she said goodbye to everyone, except for Mia, of course. The little girl was perched at the end of the counter, typing something into her iPad, which she’d brought.
Cara fought the urge to text Roman to get an ETA. She didn’t want to be too demanding, but she also wanted to see him.
“What are you so busy with?” Cara asked Mia.
