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‘No,Iam making the lasagne,’ Tony insisted. ‘But, Vera, your cannelloni is the best I have ever tasted...’ His voice trailed off as Vincenzo came in.
‘What’s going on?’ Vincenzo asked.
‘We’re having a meal—a staff party for those who have to...’ Antonietta paused ‘...for those who havechosento work on Christmas Day.’
‘Oh!’ Vincenzo just stood there.
‘Well, it doesn’t apply toyou,’ Tony said rather spitefully. ‘You’respending Christmas with family.’
Though it was not quite the perfect remedy for getting over a broken heart, it was fun to organise everything, and in her time off Antonietta baked.
And cried.
But mainly she baked.
Or mainly she cried.
But there was cake involved, which always helped.
What didn’t help was finding on Christmas Eve the coffee-flavoured Modica chocolate that she had bought for Rafe.
Well, not really. But she had certainly bought it with Rafe in mind, never knowing that that very night they would make love.
It had been so good.
At least it had been for her.
But then she reminded herself of his cruel departure, and those horrible harsh words, and told herself to get over him.
And she would.
Oh, she would...
But first she had to weep for him.
Yet she knew that once she’d started she wouldn’t be able to stop.
She would have to mourn him later, Antonietta decided. For now, the show must go on.
And so, dressing for the Christmas Eve bonfire that night, she put on the gorgeous dress, tights and boots he had bought her.
And though there was no sign of Rafe’s black helicopter, still a chariot awaited...
Well, the hotel put on a car to take the people who were working till late into the village for the last hour of the bonfire before everyone headed to church.
Poor Pino, Antonietta thought as she climbed in. He looked pensive as they drove up the winding hill.
But then he gave her a little pep talk. ‘If there are any problems tonight, just come and find me.’
‘I’ll be fine, Pino. My family might not be talking to me, but they’re not going to make a scene at the Christmas Eve bonfire.’
‘You probably haven’t heard the news,’ said Francesca.
‘I know about Sylvester,’ Antonietta said.
‘It’s nothing to do with you, of course,’ Francesca soothed, ‘but from what I’ve heard emotions are a little raw.’
‘Emotions are always a little raw with the Riccis.’ Antonietta shrugged. ‘You’re right—Sylvester and his marriage are nothing to do with me.’
