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“I keep meaning to ask you,” Diana said. “Did we make a mistake with her? Why does she love McDonald’s more than home-cooked meals?”
“She’s rebelling,” Ryan said. “Everyone does it.”
Diana giggled and sipped her wine. It almost felt as though Ryan sat with her in the shadows of her restaurant. It almost felt as though time had melted away.
After finishing her glass of wine, Diana returned to her apartment in Trastevere. When she opened the front door, she found Valentina sprawled across their brand-new couch, watching Netflix and nibbling on a cornetto filled with chocolate cream. Diana felt overwhelmed with joy, so much so that she fell on the couch beside her daughter and swallowed her in a hug. For the next half hour, Valentina told her stories from her afternoon in Rome, about the statues she’d discovered, about the Italian boys she’d flirted with. Already, Diana felt closer to Valentina than she had in years. This was the little girl she’d wanted to protect. This was the little girl she’d dreamed of.
They would drive to the airport tomorrow to pick up Rachelle and bring her to her summer apartment, just three streets away. Tomorrow, she and Rachelle would discuss the mechanics of their new menu and their new kitchen staff. They would leave Nantucket behind and start anew.
At eleven thirty, Valentina flicked through the television channels to see what else they had. That was when they stumbled into a fifteen-year-old episode of one of Diana and Ryan’s cooking shows. In it, they’d been in Florence, making cannoli.
The sight of herself and Ryan, so young, so beautiful, was like a knife.
“Mom,” Valentina shrieked, taking her hand over the sofa cushion. “Look at your face!”
Diana blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean, you look just like me!” Valentina cried.
Diana bucked with laughter. She drew her daughter’s hair over her ear and smiled lovingly. Outside, the night sizzled with Roman vitality. It was a city that had grown and evolved and changed from antiquity to now. A city with crumbling stones at its base.
And now, it was ready for the story of Diana and Valentina and whatever they cooked up next. Diana couldn’t wait.
