On the front, it saysTo Olive.
Dad. It’s from Dad.
34
Dearest Olive,
The nurse is writing this for me because my hand is not working very well. It seems my time is come. Don’t worry, I am not scared.
I wish you so much happiness in life, Olive. I wish you fall in love. I wish you work hard and enjoy what you do. I wish you all that you deserve. Which, in your old dad’s opinion, is the whole world.
I want you to finish my book. I have made some notes for you in there. Ask the estate solicitor for it. I will speak to him in the next hour and tell him my wish. I hope the publisher agrees.
Olive. I do not know what comes next. But I do know that I am not sad. That you were the greatest gift of my life, and I am thinking only of you and holding your hand in my heart. And that makes me very happy.
I love you too much.
And I’m sorry for the parts I got wrong.
Dad
35
AWEEK HAS PASSEDsince that letter opened my heart fully to the grief I’d been holding at bay. I handed in my notice atThe London Post. I hadn’t yet decided what to do with Nicky’s but I knew it was time to move on from that at least. My heart was not in the feature TEN DELICIOUS (AND SURPRISING!) WAYS TO USE PICKLED HERRING.
When I was ready, I finished the draft pages of Tuscany and Liguria. I did it with Dad’s annotated manuscript next to me, skipping through to the notes he’d made.
Sicily—Oranges, pistachios, and/or aubergine. Sicilian food a product of its immense, diverse history. Have sardines! Try the orange cake. You’ll find it all over, but there used to be a good one in Taormina.
I shake my head in amazement. Somehow, it feels like Dad had been quietly guiding me.
Tuscany—Wild boar is good but tomatoes are better. Nothing else! Please say something with Chiara’s tomatoes. I want to help her.Farm is a century old and sells some obscure varieties. Tomato salads, tomato bread soup, panzanella.
And here too, Leo and I had organically found the path my father laid out for us. The notes on Liguria are less specific, but when I read his scrawled handwriting, I smile to myself.
Liguria—Was thinking about beans, but basil a good option.
Oh boy, I cannot wait to show that note to Leo.Basil a good option!
Leo.
I sit and write with an open heart, not shying away from treacly memories of cut oranges shared in the sea. Pushing my cynicism to the side and allowing the love I have for food, for Italy, for my father, to run from my heart down my veins to my fingers and onto the page. At times I feel like he is beside me, holding my hand, like in the old photo with the gelato. An apparition in sepia with white teeth, a tan, and obscenely short swimming trunks.
I talk to Dad often now. He is around me. He is beaming, proud, and happy.
The publisher chased me yesterday, and today I will send her the final version as soon as Leo has okayed it. I am sending Leo the drafts as they are done, and he is sending me his feedback.
LEO:Sicily is done in my opinion. Feel like Tuscany should have a reference to cherries in the swimming pool
ME:STOP IT
LEO:I’m trying, Olive
I roll my eyes at his message.
LEO:Liguria is like a childhood dream. Wonderful.
ME:In Gucci and Dolce and Gabbana.
