Uncle Cosmo slapped him on the back. “Leo, you’ve worked hard. We’re proud.”
Leo placed his arm on Tessa’s shoulder and guided her to a seat at the table, then went to get his dad.
Tessa’s mouth was dry, and her palms were sweating. She could barely manage polite answers to Aunt Loretta’s questions about her dessert. At last Leo guided his father outside onto the patio. Mr. Castorini walked over to the table, acknowledging Tessa with a brief nod as he took everything in. As he scraped his own seat back, he said, “The patio looks nice, Leo. But we’ve got a lot of work to do this afternoon, so let’s get to this lunch, whatever it is.”
“It’s just lunch, Dad.” Leo sent Tessa a confident nod.
All her thoughts were jumbling up inside as she forced a smile. Not just about Leo and how they’d finally cleared the air between them, but about herself and her own work. She might not be a professional baker, but she had no doubt her cake was beautiful. And no matter what happened at this lunch today, she felt…proud.
Mr. Castorini glanced up from his seat at the head of the table, his gaze resting on Tessa. She gave him a little wave and a smile.
“Hello, Tessa. You’re part of the test group now, too?”
She tried to read if he was saying that in a nice-inclusive way or a bad-intrusive way. But she decided to hope for the best.
She tilted her head in Leo’s direction. “Chef invited me.” Then she did her best to smile widely, even though her face felt as stiff as cardboard. But smiling worked for Leo, so she could try it for his sake.
Her response got an unexpected wink from Leo. Which made her smile for real. And blush. Again.
Gia came back with a cutting board full of sliced bread.
Leo stood up at his place across from his father at the opposite end of the table. He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. “Thank you, everyone, for coming today for this special meal brought to you by Tessa and me.” He gestured and smiled in her direction. Tessa felt touched but didn’t want any credit. Leo deserved the spotlight today. But he didn’t seem to feel the same way, because he said, “Tessa, would you like to tell them about the bread?”
“It’s warm, and it smells good,” Gia said.
Leo’s father eyed the bread like it might possibly contain poison. “It’s not French bread,” Tessa rushed to say. “It’s very crusty on the outside and soft on the inside, the way they make it in Italy. French bread typically doesn’t contain oil, but Italian bread does—so for this loaf, I used imported Tuscan olive oil.” She pushed the plate a little toward him. Aunt Loretta helped pass it down. Leo set a plate of dipping oil with herbs in the middle of the table.
Gia didn’t hesitate to dive right in. “This is so good. What’s in here?”
“It’s Italian peasant bread. With oregano and rosemary.” She rushed to add, “But I can make it without the herbs next time if you think it’s too much.” She hoped Leo’s dad had heard the word Italian, which she’d enunciated loud and clear.
“This entire meal is all organic,” Leo said. “Every vegetable came from local farmers. The seafood was flown in from the east coast, and it’s so fresh it was literally swimming in the Atlantic yesterday. And it was all sustainably sourced.”
His dad snorted a little. Aunt Loretta shushed him.
Mr. Castorini frowned at his sister before addressing Leo. “How much did you pay for seafood that was swimming yesterday?”
“More than the frozen stuff that you buy from the general restaurant suppliers,” Leo said, cool and steady. “But Dad, the extra business this generates will make up for it.”
“It’s not going to taste any different,” he said.
Tessa grabbed her stomach, wishing for antacids. This was what they were up against.
And she’d thought her mom was stubborn.
If Leo’s dad wouldn’t buy in to what Leo was trying to do, she could kiss her opportunity to make beautiful desserts goodbye. She knew in her heart that she was meant to create more than bread. She just knew it.
But there was more. She could tell from the care Leo had taken and the hard work he’d done that he was passionate about what he was doing. She could hear it in his voice. See it in his uncharacteristically guarded demeanor. She understood now more than ever that Leo wanted the restaurant to be a success, and not just for his father. He seemed filled with pride in his work.
“All this fuss and money,” Mr. Castorini said, waving his hand over the table.
“Dad,” Leo said with restraint, “will you please just give this a chance?”
Aunt Loretta and Uncle Cosmo glanced worriedly at each other. Gia seemed oblivious, still eating bread. But Mr. Castorini was cranky, and Leo seemed to finally hit his irritation point. If Leo, the usual tension-breaker, couldn’t defuse the situation, who on earth would?
Leo left and returned with beautifully plated summery salads. “These are mesclun greens with pistachios, shallots, blood oranges, and a citrus dressing.”
Mr. Castorini folded his arms. “Were the oranges still on the tree in Florida yesterday? And if they were, how much did it cost to get them here today?”
Tessa’s eyes darted over to Leo, who looked a little strange. His color was high, and his lips were pressed tightly together. If he were a normal person who wasn’t happy all the time, she’d think he was actually getting a little…angry.
“Actually, Mr. Castorini,” Tessa surprised herself by saying. “because the climate is changing, there are orange trees in southern Indiana now.” Did she actually say that? She did a mental head slap. Because that was an awful joke.
Loretta laughed. Cosmo frowned. And Leo…blinked.
Okay, that wasn’t funny—at all. But it had possibly prevented Leo from saying something nasty to his dad.
“Actually, blood oranges come from Sicily,” she continued. “They’re known to have raspberry notes in addition to the usual citrusy ones. I know that because I’ve made granita before. That’s—well, you know what that is. It’s an Italian shaved ice. In fact, I’d love to make you some if you happen to have more of those oranges, Leo.”
Now she was rambling and going overboard. But at least she’d said something. And that felt really good. And it was a little scary, but she was still alive. So…brava for her.
The side of Mr. Castorini’s mouth quirked up a little. “Thank you very much, Tessa.” He speared some salad on his fork and examined it carefully. Tessa wanted to tell him to just eat it already—because all this tension was killing her—when the gate clinked open.