“The baby’s milk and an old recipe box in the pantry,” she says. “That’s Elena’s. If you touch it, you may not be forgiven. You’ve been warned.”
Her words instantly make me nervous. What does that mean? Is that a threat of some sort?
I try to say something casual and end up with: “Oh, does she cook?” But it comes out a bit too pitchy.
Vivian gives me a look that has laughter in it. “She tries. She is very proud of her cacio e pepe that is mostly mine.”
A soft voice comes from the doorway. “That is slander.”
We turn. Elena Pennino stands there with a baby at her shoulder and hair in a knot that’s given up. No makeup. Soft T-shirt. Joggers. She looks like a new mother who has slept only two hours at a time for the last three weeks.
It’s hard to imagine the woman as the renowned federal prosecutor, a shark in the courtroom who once stood opposite Luca Conti but is now engaged to him.
“Hi,” she says to me. “Bianca.” She shifts the baby higher. The tiny one makes a sound like a bird. “I’m Elena.”
We shake hands around baby cheeks and burp cloths.
“Thank you for being here,” she says. “I hope the kitchen works for you.”
“It does,” I say. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is,” she says, looking around like it’s still new to her. “I get lost in the drawers often.”
Vivian side-eyes her. “Because you reorganize them every week.”
“I like systems,” Elena says. “It calms me.”
“Me too,” I say.
She brightens. “Then we’ll get along. The menu—we’ll stay out of your way. I know you know what you’re doing. If there’s anything you need from me, tell Vivian and she’ll let me know.”
“Noted,” I say.
She touches the baby’s back. “This is Alessandra. She doesn’t care about menus. She cares about her thumb and screaming at three a.m.”
I smile because I can’t not. The baby smells like milk, and that undefinable smell that is “newborn baby.”
“She’s adorable,” I say because what else do you say about people’s babies? Coming from such a huge family, I’m pretty familiar with babies, but Luca Conti’s fiancee? What the hell do I say to her?
So, I circle back to business.
“I’ll do a full walk and let you know if I need anything else as soon as possible,” I say.
“Vivian will give you the tour. I’ll stand here and look useful,” Elena says, rocking gently. The baby is asleep with her mouth open, a pink fist under her chin.
Vivian moves. I follow. We check the pantry, the fridges, the freezers. I check the ovens to see how they feel, how they work.
Everything runs perfectly. It’s obvious someone loves this kitchen.
“Everything seems to be good for now. I have some prep to do for tonight, so I’ll just get started on that,” I say.
Elena shifts the baby to the other shoulder. The baby grumbles, then settles.
“Seems like you know what you’re doing, and I should stop pretending I can help,” Elena says. “But I’m going to say thisanyway. Thank you for doing this. Luca keeps saying he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of this. We’re trying to keep it small.”
“I have a headcount of ten adults and two kids,” I say.
“That’s right,” Elena says. “Me, Luca, Giovanni…”
