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“Semolina.”
“Right. And eggs, oil, salt.”
“Great. Let’s get all that together, and a mixing bowl.”
There was absolutely no mistaking the tension in her voice as she slowly took Jesse through the process. All her usual vivacity was gone and I thought maybe Jesse sensed it, because he was quiet too, and a little trepidatious with her. The few times that she’d visited, he’d always wanted to hang out with her, but now, when she said it was time to let the dough rest for thirty minutes, he asked if he could go back to his room.
“Of course.”
She pretended I wasn’t there as she started to clean up the kitchen. I blew out a breath. It was now or never.
“I’ll take care of that,” I said, getting up from the sofa and moving into the kitchen.
“I can do it. Gives me something to do.”
“And why exactly do you need something to do?”
No answer.
“Allegra?”
Still nothing.
“What’s going on, Allegra?”
Her back was rigid and she was washing the mixing bowl with way more aggression than was necessary. “Nothing.”
“Right, so you’re gonna make me guess? We might be here a while.”
Her hands faltered, and I heard her draw a deep, shuddering breath. “It’s my dad.”
I had to strain to hear her, her voice was so low. “What about your dad?” I asked quietly.
“He’s…he’s sick.”
“What kind of sick?”
A shrug was my only reply.
“Cancer?”
A sniff. “Could be. A big lump on his shoulder. He’s known about it formonthsbut didn’t say anything. They’ve done a biopsy, so now we’re just waiting for the results.”
“When will you hear?”
“Early next week, hopefully.”
“I see.”
She resumed scrubbing the bowl, looking heartbreakingly vulnerable. I ached to take her in my arms and hold her. “Where is he now?”
“At the farm.”
That made me frown. Why wasn’t she with him?
As though she could read my mind, she said, “Mom texted to say that effective immediately they were closing the restaurant until we get the results, because leaving it to anyone else to run just stresses dad out.”
“Even you?”
