Vittoria looks up when I come in. "Good morning," she says. "Come here, I need another pair of hands."
"Good morning to you too," I say, and pour myself a cup of coffee and come to stand beside her. "What are we making?"
"Focaccia," she says. "Joe's recipe. He thinks I don't know he adds rosemary to the oil, and I've been pretending not to know because it makes him happy."
I look at the dough on the counter. "What do you need me to do?"
"Knead that while I start the oil."
I start kneading. It's oddly satisfying. I’m able to release all my thoughts and just focus on this. It’s nice, easy, and something I would like to learn more about.
"Lorenzo was up at seven," Vittoria says, not looking up from the stove.
"He left a note," I tell her.
"He had a meeting with Cesare and Ciro." She glances at me. "And Tempest."
My heart stammers. "About what happened last night?"
"I assume so, but I don’t know the details. Cesare never involves me in them." She watches me carefully. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," I say, as I continue to knead the dough, but then shake my head. "I'm not sure. Daire being gone is..." I hesitate, unsure what to say. "It's almost worse, when she was sending messages. I at least knew where she was. Now I don't know where she is or what she's planning and that's?—"
"Harder to defend against," Vittoria says.
"Yes."
She nods like she understands that kind of anxiety, the not-knowing, and the waiting.
We work in comfortable silence for a few minutes. "Tell me something about Lorenzo," I say. "I don't know much about him."
Vittoria laughs. "I haven't been here long, Quinn. I don’t really know what I could tell you that you don’t already know."
"Anything,” I plead, wanting to learn more about my husband. “What you've heard?"
Vittoria laughs softly as she pours oil into a bowl. "Oh, I know one."
I immediately look up. "One that won't get me murdered?"
She grins at me. "No promises." She leans against the counter and thinks for a moment. "When Lorenzo was thirteen, he disappeared for three days."
I blink. "What?" I gasp, horrified.
"Uh-huh."
"Lorenzo? He disappeared?"
"The very same."
I stare at her. My husband schedules meetings weeks in advance and leaves notes if he's going to be gone for four hours. The idea of him disappearing anywhere feels weird and so very much unlike him.
"What happened?"
"No one knew where he'd gone. Cesare was furious. Ciro and Marco spent two days searching for him."
I'm in disbelief. "Where was he?"
Vittoria's smile widens. "He found an injured dog."
