This wasn’t a date, Ariana noted. Just two people sharing an evening as friends. And why not? She enjoyed sharing ideas with Alessandro. She could ask him how he managed as a single parent, too—not that she was ready to confide in him.
“I’d like that,” she said. And maybe if she spent more time around him, the strange, fluttery feeling in her chest would go away. That was it. She just needed to get used to him.
* * *
“I can’t believe I made it.” Ariana pulled into a cypress-lined drive that led to a home built of stone. As she turned off the ignition, she exhaled with relief.
Although she’d been studying street signs and was fairly confident that she could navigate the roads, she hadn’t been prepared for the narrow, twisty lanes that hugged the hillsides above the lake. The journey had proved harrowing, especially since residents whipped around curves with ease.
That evening, Ariana had dared to drive the car that Ruby had bought, even though Alessandro had offered to pick her up and have a ride-share service take her home. He couldn’t leave the children, who had been staying with Paolina earlier. His sister and her husband had plans for the evening that they couldn’t change. Ariana had assured him that she would be fine. She needed to learn her way around anyway.
Ariana looped a bag over her arm. She’d tucked a bottle of wine and a tin of chocolate chip cookies that she’d quickly baked into the bag. When Ariana told Ruby where she was going, she noted the quiet approval on Ruby’s face, even though Ariana assured her they were only friends.
As she stepped from the car, Sandro and Carmela bolted from the house to greet her. They threw their arms around her.
Alessandro chuckled. “The children were so excited when I told them you were joining us for supper tonight.”
As Alessandro leaned in and greeted Ariana with a pleasant kiss on each cheek, she detected a warm, slightly spicy scent he wore. His masculine aroma caught her off guard and drew her in. Quickly, she stepped back, feeling a little shaken.
“I brought a treat for the kids,” Ariana said, holding up the bag with chocolate chip cookies. She opened it to let the children see inside, and then she lifted the lid of the cookie tin.
The children’s eyes grew wide. “Cioccolato,” they cried.
“Not before we eat,” Alessandro said, laughing. “But this looks delicious,” he added with surprise. “You bake?”
“A little, but I enjoy it.”
When Ariana had stayed at Ruby’s home in Palm Springs on school breaks, Stefano taught her how to make cookies and quick breads. That had been a long time ago, and the oven in the kitchen at Villa Fiori was different. The measuring cups were in metric measurements, too. Fortunately, she found a cups-to-milliliter conversion chart on a baking site, and Livia helped her watch the oven so the cookies weren’t overdone.
“I’m thinking about taking a cooking class,” Ariana said. “I’d like to learn some Italian specialties.”
Alessandro’s face lit with a smile. “If you don’t mind, I could join you. I can share some recipes, too.” Gesturing toward his children, he said, “I have to perform for this audience every evening.”
Looking at the children’s eager faces, she said, “I think that would be fun.”
“Then you can be my sous chef tonight,” he said. “I’m running late with supper because this one had a little accident.” Alessandro scooped up Sandro with one arm and tucked the boy to his side. “He tumbled off his bicycle and scraped his knees.”
Sandro giggled and kicked his legs. Little bandages covered both knees.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Ariana said to Sandro, before realizing he probably couldn’t understand her. She repeated herself in her basic Italian, and Sandro beamed at her.
Carmela tugged on Ariana’s cotton turquoise sundress. Ariana knelt to the little five-year-old’s height. “Ciao, come stai?”
The little girl beamed shyly at Ariana, hiding behind a wave of unruly curls that partly obscured her face. “Bene.”
Gently, Ariana lifted Carmela’s tangled hair from her eyes. “Bene. Me, too.”
“I’m afraid I’m not very good with girl’s hair,” Alessandro said. “I had it pulled back, but I don’t know what happened to the clips. They are so tiny, and in my hands, they’re hard to handle.”
“I can help,” Ariana said, smoothing her hand over Carmela’s soft hair. She stood and took the little girl’s small hand in hers.
Calmly, Carmela gazed up at her.
Alessandro stared at them for a moment. “I think she’s in awe of you. I haven’t seen her this quiet in a long time.” Flipping Sandro onto the ground, he took the boy’s hand, and they started toward the house.
Ariana stepped inside and looked around. It was a cozy family home, even though the rooms were quite large. The tiled floors and rugs and artwork in warm colors brought life to every room. In various patterns and vivid colors, sumptuous silk pillows brightened an over-stuffed sofa, and dolls and trucks had been pushed haphazardly into a corner.
“This way, Sandro.” Alessandro took it all in stride, herding the rambunctious seven-year-old into the large kitchen, where a rustic table anchored the space that opened onto an airy, plant-filled terrace.
Immediately, Ariana felt at home. Surrounding a stove and a deep sink were tiles with hand-painted herbs sprinkled among the other ivory-colored tiles. Copper pots hung from a rack above, and children’s artwork covered a large corkboard at one end of the kitchen.
Ariana dug into her purse and pulled out an elastic band. “Where’s a brush for Carmela?”
“In her room. She’ll show you.” Alessandro said a few words to Carmela, and the little girl took Ariana’s hand.
Ariana followed Carmela into a bedroom decorated in a rainbow of colors. A flurry of stuffed animals and baby dolls lined the bed. Ariana picked up a brush from a dresser and began to work it through Carmela’s curls. The little girl stood very still, watching wide-eyed in the mirror. Ariana chatted while she smoothed Carmela’s hair. Then she gathered it into a high, fluffy ponytail. Admiring her handiwork, Ariana couldn’t help but wonder if she might soon have a little girl or boy.
“Grazie,” Carmela said, grinning. She threw her arms around Ariana’s neck and kissed her before racing back into the kitchen to show her father.
“Very pretty,” Alessandro said, his gaze lingering on Ariana before he turned back to the refrigerator.
Giggling, the two children scrambled onto stools at a counter.
“They’re not used to seeing anyone but my sister in the kitchen with me.” Alessandro put out a bowl of marinated olives and a wedge of Parmigiana-Reggiano cheese with bread. “First, the antipasti. A little something to nibble on. Can you pour some of that olive oil into a little plate?”
Sandro pointed to a dishrack next to the sink. Ariana picked up a plate and poured the fragrant olive oil.
“That smells delicious,” Ariana said.
Alessandro swirled in fresh rosemary, and then he tore off a small hunk of warm bread and dipped it into the oil. He lifted it to her mouth. “Taste it,” he said, his eyes sparkling.