Francesca's Kitchen (23 page)

Francesca beamed at all of them with pride, but particularly at Loretta, as the young woman hurried to finish preparing dinner. In all her years, she had never seen anyone put a meal out on the table with more pure joy and enthusiasm. When at last they all sat down to eat, Francesca raved at how lovely the table looked and how wonderful everything smelled. Filling their bowls with the spaghetti, and passing them out one by one, Loretta suddenly grew quiet, and only smiled and shrugged modestly in reply, for the moment of truth had finally come. She bit her lip and watched as Francesca and the children all dug in.

The verdict was swift and decisive.

“Wow, Mom!” exclaimed Will, wide-eyed with amazement. “This is delicious!”

“Really, Mom,” agreed Penny as she slurped up a strand of spaghetti. “It's excellent!”

Francesca, of course, concurred wholeheartedly, but she could tell by the look of quiet triumph in Loretta's eyes that it was the children's judgment that gratified her most.

“To Chef Loretta!” said Francesca, raising her glass. “Or should I say,
Mamma
Loretta?”

“To Mamma Loretta,” laughed the children, and everyone joined in the toast.

Later, after dessert, Francesca helped clean up the kitchen, while Will and Penny flopped down on the living room couch to digest.

“You know, that really was very good,” said Francesca, bringing the dirty dishes to the sink. “I'm proud of you.”

“Thanks,” smiled Loretta, “I had fun doing it.” Then her expression turned to one of puzzlement as she regarded the big pot of leftover tomato sauce. “I think I made too much,” she said. “What on earth am I going to do with the rest?”

“Are you kidding?” laughed Francesca. “You save that for Sunday. Then I'll tell you what to do next. You buy some nice pork chops or ribs, put them on a pan, and brown them in the oven nice nice. Then you take them out of the oven and toss them in the sauce, and serve it all with some nice ravioli.”

“Ooh,” said Loretta, “that sounds delicious.”

“Then, if there's any sauce left after
that
,” Francesca went on, “you buy yourself a pound of pizza dough for ninety-nine cents, spread some sauce over it with some pepperoni and a little bit of cheese, and throw it in the oven. Trust me, you'll all be in heaven.”

When it finally came time for Francesca to go home, Loretta and the children gathered at the door to say good night.

“Thank you so much. I had a wonderful day,” Francesca told them, and she meant every word. Then she leaned down toward the children and wagged a finger at them. “And the two of you should give your mother a kiss to thank her for cooking you such a nice meal.”

“And then you should also say thank-you to Mrs. Campanile for the nice gifts she bought you at the mall,” replied Loretta, giving Francesca a nod.

The children started toward her, and for a fleeting moment, Francesca thought that they were going to give her a hug. Unsure of themselves, though, they held back and just stood there smiling warmly at her.

“Thanks, Mrs. C,” they both said.

“Oh, you're welcome, children,” she told them. “I had a lot of fun. Now be good for your mother the rest of the weekend, and I'll see you again on Monday.”

With that, Francesca bade them all a good night and soon went on her way.

The wind outside had subsided, but it was still quite cold when Francesca walked out to her car. As she opened the door and climbed inside, however, Francesca could not have felt warmer. The thought of the long, beautiful day that had just passed left her blissfully tired and happy. She was ready now to go home and climb into her bed and dream about it all night long. With that pleasant thought in mind, she turned the key to start the car.

Nothing happened.

She tried again. The engine made a clicking noise and then once again nothing.

Francesca pumped the gas pedal a few times and then turned the key once more. The engine sputtered and coughed to life, and Francesca breathed a sigh of relief. No sooner had she done so when the engine suddenly died again, this time for good. No matter how often she turned the key or pumped the gas, Francesca could not make the engine start. Uncertain as to what she should do next, she sat there for quite a few minutes, mulling over her options. With a sigh, she looked at the clock and up into the dark winter sky. At last, Francesca came to what she could not have known in that moment would be a fateful decision. Letting out a grumble of irritation, she opened the car door and trudged back up to the house.

“Is everything all right?” asked Loretta with concern when she opened the front door.

“Yes,” Francesca told her, “everything's fine. Don't worry. But would you mind if I used your telephone? I need to call my son.”

T
here is something sweetly inexplicable that passes between two people who are destined to meet when one day, after wandering often aimlessly through life, searching without ever knowing for exactly what, the heavens finally fall into alignment and they happen upon one another unexpectedly, as if by magic. It is not quite, though some might call it so, the proverbial fire of love at first sight that strangers sometime experience, for in truth, the two find in one another something extraordinarily familiar and comforting. Before either even speaks, each has the oddest notion that they have already met and indeed known each other since long ago. It is more a feeling of profound recognition, almost surprise, than anything else, one that brings with it a sense of relief, as if their hearts are simply saying to one another, “Oh, there you are. Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you for the longest time.”

Such was the case that night when the doorbell rang and Loretta left Francesca and Penny in the kitchen, and Will in the living room with his video game, to answer it. Laughing along the way at a silly joke Penny had just told, she hurried to the front hall and turned the doorknob. Expecting, as she did, to encounter someone quite a bit older than herself—for some reason, she could not envision her elderly nanny's children any other way—she opened the door, her laughter coming to an abrupt halt when she discovered a young man of her own age waiting on the front porch. With his hands buried deep in the pockets of his frayed, gray sweatshirt, the hood pulled up over his head, he was standing there looking about at his surroundings, as if he were not quite sure that he had come to the right place. When he turned his gaze to Loretta and their eyes met for the first time, she felt strangely overcome by a sensation of paralysis, as if suddenly she could not move or speak. From what she could see, the young man seemed to suffer from the very same affliction, for he stood there equally immobile and mute.

In this way, the two regarded one another in awkward silence for what seemed a very long time, but in truth was for but a moment, after which the young man stepped closer and pulled back his hood.

“Hi, I'm Joey Campanile,” he said in a hesitant voice. He turned and quickly glanced back over his shoulder at his mother's car, parked out front. “I'm…uh…looking for my mother—Francesca? Did I come to the right house?”

“Yes, of course,” breathed Loretta, relieved that she had rediscovered her power of speech just in the nick of time. “Please come in.”

Loretta stepped back and let Joey enter. There, in the light of the hallway, she saw that besides being younger, he was also taller than she had imagined he would be—for Francesca was far from statuesque—and his features darker and more rugged, but there was no mistaking his striking blue eyes, which came no doubt from his mother. Not quite able to turn her gaze from them, she self-consciously pushed a stray strand of hair from her face, suddenly wishing for all the world that she had taken just a moment to look in the mirror and straighten herself up before she had answered the door.

“I'm Loretta,” she said, extending her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Loretta,” replied Joey, gently taking it in his own. Though chafed and cold from being outdoors without gloves, his hand nonetheless felt warm to Loretta, and it was only with great reluctance that she released it from her grasp.

“Come on,” she beckoned, turning away. “Your mother is waiting for you in the kitchen with my daughter.”

“Excuse me for a second,” said Joey, touching her shoulder while she was still in reach. “But can I ask you a question?”

Loretta turned back and saw the look of puzzlement on Joey's face. “What is it?” she said.

“Well, I was just wondering,” he replied. “What is my mother doing here?”

“She's my babysitter—well, more like my nanny,” Loretta laughed. Then, seeing that he wore the same confused look, she stopped and added, “Didn't you know?”

Aside from a raised eyebrow, Joey made no reply, but simply shrugged and shook his head.

“Oh, well, then follow me,” said Loretta, leading him on.

As they passed through the living room, Will, who up till this moment had been thoroughly absorbed in the animated aerial battles of his video game, looked up in surprise at the newcomer. At the sight of Joey, the young boy sat up straight, letting the game controller drop onto his lap. His attention diverted, the simulated combat jet he was piloting on the television spun out of control and crashed into a mountain with a fiery explosion.

“This is my son, Will,” said Loretta. “Will, this is Joey. Mrs. Campanile is his mother.”

“Hey,” said Joey in his quiet way.

“Hi,” the boy replied in a small voice, sinking down a bit into the couch, his eyes darting nervously about as if he wasn't sure of what to do or say next.

Joey nodded to the television screen, where the game was waiting to be reset. “Ace Combat?” he asked.

Will's eyes widened in amazement. “Ace Combat Zero,” he said eagerly, suddenly much more at ease.

“He's got all the games, every last noisy one,” lamented Loretta.

“Oh, yeah,” said Joey, jutting his chin out in a way that showed he was impressed. “I heard that's a good one.”

“I kinda like it,” said Will. Picking the controller up off his lap, he pretended to turn his attention back to the game, all the while keeping a sharp, suspicious eye on Joey.

“Ayyy,
finalmente
!” exclaimed a red-faced Francesca, just then bustling out of the kitchen, her coat and pocketbook in hand. “What took you so long to get here? And look at the outfit he wears to pick up his mother. Didn't I tell you to throw away that old sweatshirt?”

Despite Francesca's bluster, Loretta could plainly see that the older woman was ill at ease and anxious to leave. She suspected, quite rightly, that her discomfort most likely sprang, for whatever reason, from the necessity of making Joey come to the house and discover that she had been working as a nanny. Though she would never have admitted it, some dark, mischievous side of Loretta was rather enjoying the awkward situation. Something in Joey's demeanor told her that he felt the same way.

“Sorry I didn't get here sooner,” he told his mother patiently, “and that I didn't wear a tux, but I was at the gym when you called me on my cell, remember, Mom?” Joey rolled his eyes for the benefit of Loretta, who put a hand to her mouth to hide her smile.

“Hmm, I see you two have met,” said Francesca, alternating her gaze between the two.

“Yes, and I was just introducing him to Will,” explained Loretta. “And this, Joey, is my daughter, Penny.”

Penny had just followed Francesca out of the kitchen and was now standing with her arm wrapped about her mother's waist, gaping up at Joey.

“Hey, Penny,” he said.

The young girl did not respond right away, but instead, stood there, still staring at him.

Loretta looked down at her daughter and gave her a shake. “Hey, aren't you going to at least say hello?' she chided her daughter.

“Oh, hi,” Penny said at last, shrinking back behind her mother.

“Well, that's nice. We've all met,” said Francesca brusquely. “Come on now, Joey. Time to take me home so they can all settle down for the rest of the night. Good night, everybody.” With that, she unceremoniously grabbed her son by the arm and oriented him toward the door. Loretta could only watch, even though her first impulse was to reach out and grab his other arm.

“Whoa, just a minute,” said Joey, before his mother could pull him to the door.

“What?” she said testily, shooting him a look of perturbation.

“I just need to let them know what we're planning to do with your car,” he replied. Then, turning to Loretta, he said, “Is it all right if we leave it here overnight? I mean, I'll come back to take a look at it tomorrow morning first thing and see if I can't get it started.”

“Yes, of course it's all right,” Loretta assured him. “Come whenever you want. We'll be here.”

“Great,” said Joey with a smile. He hesitated, as if he wanted to say more but didn't dare. “Well, I guess then I'll see you tomorrow. It was very nice to meet you all.”

“It was nice to meet you,” said Loretta, returning his smile.

“Okay, let's go,” said Francesca, giving her son a tug. Before anyone could say another word, she swept him out the door and down the front walk to his car.

Loretta closed the door behind them and went to the window to watch them go. She was soon joined by Penny and Will, who stood there with her, gazing out with equal interest, as the pair climbed into the car and drove away into the night.

Penny slipped her hand into Loretta's and rested her head against her mother's arm. “He seemed nice,” she said wistfully.

“Very nice,” her mother agreed.

“Do you think he'll really come back tomorrow?” said Will.

“I don't know,” sighed Loretta. “I really don't know.” Then, in barely above a whisper: “But I hope so.”