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Nora looks at it, but for a second, she doesn't move.

Neither do I.

Because I know.

I've never seen Nora cook. Not once.

I know she used to cook every day. She was always trying new recipes, changing things and making D taste whatever she'd come up with that night. She worked in publishing, but she'd always dreamed of writing her own cookbooks.

And then Damiano died and she stopped.

She told me once that she couldn't do it anymore.

So I watch her stare at that wooden spoon like it's something more than a piece of wood.

Her grandmother doesn't say anything. She just keeps holding it out until Nora finally takes it.

She stirs once, then again. She leans over the pot and breathes in before tasting a little from the spoon, her eyebrows pulling together as she reaches for something on the counter.

Her grandmother slaps her hand away.

Nora gasps. “Nonna!”

Italian explodes through the kitchen and Chiara starts laughing.

“What happened?” Lexy asks.

“She tried to add salt.”

“It needs salt!”

Her grandmother says something else.

Nora puts a hand on her hip. “I know how to make sugo!”

More Italian follows and Chiara is practically crying now.

“What did she say?” Dex asks.

“She said apparently not her sugo.”

Even Nora starts laughing, still holding the spoon as she argues with her grandmother.

Her grandmother reaches up and touches the back of her granddaughter's hair.

Just once.

Nora goes still, then looks down at the sauce and keeps stirring.

Nobody says anything.

Good.

Don't make it bigger than she can handle.

A few minutes later, Nora dips the spoon into the pot again and tastes it, closing her eyes.

“Okay. That's really fucking good.”