Ugh, just thinking about that eye makes goosebumps pebble all across my arms.
“You think this is about something else. A trick to make sure bad things never happen?” Rose suggests, eyes narrowed.
Nonna nods, knowingly, scooting a third cannolo onto my plate. I sigh and take a bite of it.
“Bad things happen all the time. No one can fix that. But not all storms are weather, yes? Some storms start in here, and only get bigger when they’re ignored.” She taps her chest, then lays a warm, dry hand on my shoulder.
“You have to listen to your own weather, my Ivy. You are full of storms and sunshine, my girl. Don’t pretend otherwise.” She taps the side of her nose. “That’s what the bread was for. Remembering that even when everything seems like it might fall apart, we still have each other.”
I swallow hard, nodding, placing the dessert down.
I’m not hungry anymore, not at all.
Eleven
It takes the three of us a lot longer to walk back to Sugar & Salt than it did for us to walk to Nonna’s Table, likely on account of the fact we’re all having to stop and groan and rub our stomachs every few steps.
“Why do we let her bully us into eating that much?” Rose rubs her stomach, a painful set to her mouth.
“Because it’s so worth it.” Posey pats Rose’s stomach, and she swats her hand away.
“Until it isn’t,” Rose moans. “I did not need six cannoli. I definitely didn’t need seven.”
“I don’t know, I think you did,” Posey says. “I could eat ten more right now.” The slightly pained set of her eyes tells me she’s lying.
A trickle of sweat runs down my temple in spite of the chill blowing off the bay and fully thanks to the amount of cheese congealing in my arteries.
“How the hell are we supposed to bake enough bread for the whole town? We have maybe two cast iron pans total.” I rub the tiny charm on my necklace in frustration.
My sisters stop, Rose clutching at Posey’s arm, her forehead scrunched up tight. “That was your takeaway?”
“Well, yeah?” I put my hands on my hips, trying to somehow elongate my torso to make room for all the food that’s just sitting there.
“This wasn’t about bread.” Rose juts her chin out stubbornly.
“But they turned the storm by baking everyone that weird bread in the cast iron pans.” I start walking again, mildly irritated by my sisters’ refusal to understand. “That was the whole thing.”
“Oh, Ivy,” Rose says, and Posey shakes her head slowly. “That was what they did, yeah, but we all know enough about how this works to know that the bread, the food —that wasn’t the real magic.”
“Then why did Grandma put that recipe napkin in the scrapbook?” I ask, knowing I sound slightly unhinged, but continuing on anyway.
“Because that food was how they delivered the magic. There wasn’t anything special about that bread?—”
“You don’t know that. I make special food all the time.” I’m losing some control, and I blow out a breath, making myself smile at my younger sisters. “That’s my whole business.”
They frown at me.
“The food is just the expression of your magic. It isn’t your magic,” Rose says in a hushed voice. We all glance around surreptitiously, suddenly too aware that we’re arguing about the nature of magic out in the open.
Great.
“Then what was the point of that, other than I want to put on my stretchiest pants and take a four hour food coma?”
Rose’s normally happy expression turns slightly shielded, nervous, and she shares a long look with Posey. “The point was that whatever is going on in this town is because of you bottling up.”
I gasp, clutching at my collarbone. “You’re blaming me?”
“No, not like that, drama queen.” Posey rolls her eyes, then shoves me slightly so we keep walking toward the store. “But you are so obsessed with doing everything right, with taking care of everybody else, that you don’t let anyone in. Ever. And I think that is what Nonna meant when she said storms don’t always start at sea.”
