It was after one when Mariella turned back onto the wide piazza and gazed at the buildings. Rosa seemed to leap out at her. That was Cristiano’s family’s restaurant—the one with the excellent marinara sauce. She pushed the stroller along, wondering if she dared try Dante in the restaurant. So far the baby had been in perfect harmony with all they’d done. But she’d hate to be in the middle of a meal and have him start screaming his head off.
As they approached, Mariella saw a nice open-air space connected to the restaurant. Much better for the baby, she thought. The day was warm enough to sit outside.
Once seated, with a baby highchair for Dante, Mariella perused the menu. She’d try the tortellini with the famous sauce. She sat back to enjoy the ambiance while waiting for her order. The waiter had brought bread sticks and she gave one to Dante to drool on. He beat the table, put it in his mouth and looked surprised. She laughed. Hadn’t he expected it to be food? He couldn’t eat it, but she thought he could gum it a bit. Once it got soggy, she replaced it with another.
The courtyard was delightful. Tables were scattered around as if awaiting company, two others occupied. None too close to impede a private conversation. The bougainvillea spilled down a trellis, their flowers faded now as winter approached. She bet they were spectacular in the height of summer. A fountain’s melody gave a pleasant sound to soothe and enhance enjoyment of the food. Mariella suspected the restaurant was a favorite of many.
When the meal was placed before her, Mariella smiled in anticipation. She looked at the waiter. “I can’t wait to eat this. I had this sauce recently at Cristiano Casali’s place. Do you know him?”
The waiter bowed slightly. “Of course. He is son of the owner, Luca.” He frowned. “He has not been to visit recently. I shall tell his sister you are here.”
Mariella took a bite of the tortellini. It almost melted in her mouth. The sauce was even better than she’d had at Cristiano’s. She savored each mouthful.
“Signora?”
A pretty woman wearing an apron approached Mariella.
“Sì?”
“I am Isabella, Cristiano’s sister. You are a friend of Cristiano?”
Mariella smiled. “He rescued me and my baby from a fire at Lake Clarissa. I consider him a hero.”
“Ah. May I?” Isabella said, holding onto the back of a chair.
“Please.”
“How is he?” she asked when she sat down.
“Fine. He said he is recovering from injuries?” How odd his sister asked a stranger for an update on her brother.
“He was a first responder to the bombing in Rome last May,” Isabella said slowly.
“I knew that. That’s where he was injured.”
“A burn, a broken ankle. Yet it’s taking a long time to heal. Does he walk okay?”
“Fine.”
Isabella stared at Mariella for a long moment.
Growing uncomfortable, Mariella smiled again. “I had some of your marinara sauce at Cristiano’s and so when I had to come to Monta Correnti and saw the restaurant, I thought I’d eat it again. It’s delicious.”
“Thank you. So you ate at Cristiano’s home?”
“The cottage near the lake,” Mariella clarified.
“I know where he’s staying. Did he bring you here?” Isabella glanced around quickly.
“No, I drove,” Mariella said.
Isabella looked at Dante. “What a blessing he is safe. Cristiano rescued him?”
“We’re staying at the cottages rented by the Bertatalis. The unit we rented burned. Faulty wire in the heating device. I was asleep, so was the baby. We both would have been killed if Cristiano hadn’t discovered the fire and come in to rescue us.”
Isabella smiled. “So like my brother. You are going back to Lake Clarissa today?”
“Yes, for a few more days. I’m on a short holiday.” She reached for her bag and pulled out Ariana’s picture. “Have you ever seen her?” she asked.
Isabella looked at the photo and handed it back. “No. A friend?”
Mariella nodded. Another story too much to go into with everyone she saw.
“I have something for Cristiano. Would you take it to him for me? Things are hectic right now or I’d go myself. Not that he’d be happy to see me,” Isabella said.
“Why ever not?”
“He’s been avoiding me. Granted, I’ve had a few other things on my mind, but I wanted to make sure he was all right. He doesn’t answer his phone most of the time. He was conveniently gone from the cottage the two times I went to visit. He’s turning into a hermit.”
Mariella laughed. “I don’t think so. But he can be a bit moody.”
“Cristiano? Doesn’t sound like him. He has a very even disposition.”
“Men hate to be sick. I know my father was grouchy when he was ill. My mother said not to worry, once he was better he’d be back to normal. Maybe Cristiano is frustrated with how long it’s taking him to heal and is taking it out on family.”
Isabella nodded. “Perhaps, but enough is enough. I shall get the letter and some more sauce. I’m glad to know he’s eating what I left, anyway.”
“It freezes well. I thought you might consider a mail-order side to the business. I’d love to be able to order this from my home and know I can have it whenever I wish.”
“We are just a local restaurant.”
“Think about it. I have a degree in marketing and could help set it up if you ever wanted to expand.”
Isabella looked at her. “Would it cost a lot?”
“My contribution would be free. I owe Cristiano forever.” She reached out and brushed back Dante’s hair, smiling at the precious little boy. He rewarded her with a wide smile and drool on his chin mixed with breadcrumbs.
Isabella nodded. “If you would take the letter and sauce to my brother, it will be enough. Tell him his sister asks after him and to call me!”
By the time Mariella was ready to leave, a small bag containing a jar of sauce and an official letter was delivered to her table by the waiter. She placed in it the carry space of the stroller. After wiping Dante’s face and hands, she placed him in the stroller and paid her bill. A few moments later they were walking around the square. She studied the restaurant that shared the small piazza with the family restaurant. It looked very upscale and trendy. Not the sort of place for a baby or a casually dressed tourist. Glad she’d had an excellent meal, and that Dante had not raised a fuss, she continued on her walk. There was more to see before returning to the lake.
The town was lovely, decidedly bigger than Lake Clarissa, yet nothing like New York or Rome.
But which appealed to her more these days—the big city excitement or the slower pace in these mountain towns? Would she like to raise Dante in a pastoral setting allowing him to experience nature in its raw beauty? Or would the experiences of museums, art galleries and opera be better to round his education?
Dante had fallen asleep by the time they returned to the car. Mariella couldn’t wait to get him home and take a nap herself. The prognosis from the doctor had been good. But she still coughed from time to time.
The next morning, Mariella put Dante in the stroller, retrieved the sauce Isabella Casali had sent from the refrigerator and headed back up the road to deliver to Cristiano. Her nerves thrummed with anticipation.
On impulse, she stopped at the open-air market