Page 6 of Enzo

I open my mouth, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, but can’t find the words to describe how grateful I am for this. Me, out of everyone else. Kiki would probably fit in perfectly at a masked ball in a palace. She'd look glamorous and fit right in.

Me?

I'll look as out of place as a lobster, but I'll be fine. I don't care too much about things like that. I'm looking forward to the adventure.

“It’s such a shame you're missing it.”

She coughs again. “I'm thrilled that you're going in my place, and Molly … I'm not sending you because you're replacing me. I'm sending you because if anyone should experience something magical ... it's you.”

Tears well up in my eyes, and I don't know if it's because I'm ridiculously happy, or if I'm deeply touched by Miss T's kindness.

I don't get chances like this.

Not ever.

I've never won anything, not a lottery, or even a bag of candy floss from the fair. I can't believe that this lovely woman has given me this once-in-a-lifetime chance. The bell announcing that recess is over rings.

I stand up. “T-thank you, Miss T, I mean, Miss Turlington. I'll make you proud.”

“I don't doubt that you will.”

Chapter 2

ENZO

Mama has cooked for all of Manhattan.

Her apartment fills with the familiar aroma of garlic and rosemary wafting through the air, and tomatoes that have simmered slowly for hours. Mixed in with all this is the scent of freshly baked bread, and something sweet and buttery baking in the oven.

I checked the oven earlier and saw her traditional jam tart baking in there. She’s also made tiramisu.

She sets out trays of sizzling, steaming lasagne and aubergine layered with mozzarella and a rich tomato sauce. Then, she takes out from the oven a steaming hot tray of roast potatoes drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with slivers of garlic and rosemary.

“Mama, there are thirteen of us, not thirty.”

She wipes her hands on her apron. “What if someone wants seconds?”

I smile at her, watching her stir something on the stove, and then check something in the oven.

She's declined all offers of help, from everyone. When the women hovered around, trying to do something, she shooed them all away. Jett offered to get takeout for everyone, but Mama firmly refused.

Then Dex suggested, “Why don't we have our private chef come over and cook?”

Mama swatted them both playfully.

“Boys, boys,” she said. “I am not someone who likes other people in my kitchen. I love feeding my family. Now, leave me be.”

My family.

Despite only being here for a relatively short time, she’s given this rented apartment her elegant yet homely touch. But I wish this was Mama's apartment. I wish she lived here, instead of all the way in Italy. She's been here a month now. She came after Matteo had his operation.

I have never looked forward to Knight family dinners so much. Though Mama isn't a Knight, and has never taken that name.

But she leaves for Soave in a few days' time and a sense of melancholy falls over me. We've shared so many precious moments together. The American Knights don't come here daily, like Rio, Matteo and I do. But they've come once a week.

I hover around her and try again, as I do each time I see her. “Must you return to Soave?”

“Not that again.” She wipes her cheek with the back of her hand. “I will come back, tesoro.”