It reflected the rest of thecastello,warm woods and bronze details, with too many ovens and counters to count. It was as busy as any Michelin five-star kitchen, the number of bodies almost overwhelming, but it never felt stuffy.
Maggie Beautiful, Scarlett, Carmen, and Juliette, along with a few of their son’s wives and other women close to these women, including me, had our own table. We were each cooking a variety of dishes. Some traditional Thanksgiving fare. Some we’d learned from having Italian roots or living with Italians for so long.
It hit me square in the chest how much my grandmother would have loved this scene.
Even though some of these women technically worked for the family, Maggie Beautiful had a wonderful relationship with each one, it seemed, including the “head” cook, who Maggie Beautiful called Mamma Maria Maria.
Mamma Maria Maria was a bit intimidating to me. She directed all the women, except for our table, around the kitchen with a wooden spoon and a scowl on her face. There was nothing tight about the woman. She was warm and hearty, except for her lips and her arm when she raised it at one of the women who seemed to be her sous chef.
I wouldn’t get inSignoraMaria Maria’s way, but if I accidentally did, I was taking bets in my head on who was going to win. I had the most absurd vision of her and I colliding, then her getting me in a headlock and not letting go.
She seemed to have powerful arms, especially since she seemed to have years of practice with the wooden spoon. She was pointing it in whichever direction she wanted the chefs to go, almost like a sergeant would do to her troops.
Nonna was quick with her slipper, but she had nothing on Mamma Maria Maria’s quickness with the spoon. A few times I stopped preparing my dishes just to watch her.
When Ermanno entered the kitchen, he took one look at her, saidwhoa, and ran out, Pisolino on his heels.
A grin lingered on my face, and then it turned into a full-on smile when Juliette said, “She doesn’t intimidate me with her wooden spoon,” in a whisper. “I went to Catholic school almost my entire life.” Mamma Maria Maria must have caught wind of the conversation. She turned her narrowed eyes on Juliette, her wooden spoon ready to whack some ass.
Juliette turned her eyes down, and we all laughed. Juliette shot us the bird behind a ceramic bowl.
Maggie Beautiful sighed, taking an artichoke ball from Juliette’s pan and popping it in her mouth. Neither she nor Scarlett was understating it when they said she couldn’t cook. She said she was going to give it a try, since the song “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant” had been stuck in her head for months, but she started a small fire when she dropped a greasyItalian sausage on the stove. Mamma Maria Maria was there to put it out.
I didn’t think Mamma Maria Maria would’ve been as kind to any of us, and especially her chefs, if the fire had been started by anyone except for Maggie Beautiful. Mamma Maria Maria took Maggie Beautiful by the shoulders, speaking words of encouragement to her in Italian. Scarlett grinned at me when she told me Mamma Maria Maria was basically telling Maggie Beautiful she was too beautiful to cook.
“Mamma Maria Maria doesn’t want Maggie Beautiful burning down the kitchen,” Scarlett whispered. “The kitchen that belongs totheLuca Fausti.”
Maggie Beautiful smiled after Mamma Maria Maria left her station for a moment to throw away the charred and still smoking dishrags she used to put out the fire. “She’s always had a bit of a crush on Luca. After her husband died, she’s worn black ever since and doted on my husband.”
“Would you serve this to the king?!” Carmen attempted to do Mamma Maria Maria’s voice. She tilted her head down and raised her eyes. “That’s what she shouts at all those poor women she bosses around when she doesn’t feel the food is good enough for the king.”
Maggie Beautiful waved a hand. “She’s a perfectionist, and although sometimes I think she can be a little harsh, the food is always so delicious and beautiful.”
“Hmph,” Carmen said, her hands full of raw meat.
“You’ll keep her once you take over this kitchen, won’t you, Ari?”
I looked up from my focaccia dough. “What?”
All the women were looking at me.
Maggie Beautiful smiled at me, her eyes crinkling on the sides. “This is going to be yours one day to run. I don’t care much about all of this, but you seem to like this sort of thing. You’rematernal, and even though you haven’t been married for long, it seems like being a wifey is what you’re going to love to be. Personally, I love being Luca’s wife, it’s my favorite, but…I prefer to eat than cook. Read my magazines instead of decorating.”
“In other words,” Scarlett said with a smile, “she loves to be beautiful and lounge.”
Maggie Beautiful pointed a finger at her. “Exactly! The only time I believe sweat looks sexy on me is in the bedroom.”
Maggie Beautiful’s question, though, had caught me off guard. I hadn’t thought that far into the future. It was one thing to be married to a Fausti, but another thing entirely to be married to the next king. It seemed like Luca and Maggie Beautiful hosted a lot of dinners and such, and they were constantly being invited to events.
Scarlett nudged me. “No matter what, you’re going to need some help. Pick and choose what’s important to you, then follow tradition for the rest—meaning, rely on help that you can trust.”
“Great advice. And if you’re worried about people not doing a great job for you, fear will take care of that. Not many people will do you wrong.” Juliette wiped her hands on a dishrag. “No one wants to disappoint this family on purpose.”
“Well, not everyone.” Carmen flicked a piece of meat back into the bowl from her fingers. “Some will do it on purpose. Those with a vendetta and a death wish.”
“People who fit in those two categories…” Juliette made a whirly motion around her temple.
A loud clang came from one of the sinks, and it was loud enough to capture everyone’s attention. A young woman stood at the sink, her back to us, and she seemed to be trying to control her breathing. The loud clang had come from her flinging a bunch of dishes into the sink that had been on a platter. Seemed like a lot of the glass broke.
