Page 31 of Gelato at the Villa (Suitcase Sisters #2)
“I brought gloves and a few tools, if you would like to use them,” she said. “We need carrots and onions, and the strawberries look like they’ve brightened up in the last three days since I picked some. Which would you like to pick?”
“Strawberries, please.”
Rosie handed me a large ceramic bowl with a chip on the rim. As she did, she looked down, and her hat tumbled off her head.
“I give up,” she said. “My dear mum sent me to Italy with this hat because she was so concerned my fair skin would blister in the sunshine. The hat simply doesn’t fit. Would you like it?”
I tried on the hat, and it fit perfectly. I had no idea how it looked, but I liked having just enough of a brim to shade my eyes. “Thank you. This is a great hat.”
“For you, yes. My head is too big, I think. Not too big as in having an inflated ego. That’s certainly not my problem.
I have other problems, but not that one.
The issue is my hair. It’s always been my hair.
I’ve never known how to tame it. I do love Amelia’s haircut, don’t you?
She just had it done last week in Florence.
I’m thinking of going to the same place and asking them what she asked them. ”
“What did she ask them?”
“She told them to give her a proper ‘Roman Holiday’ moment. Only it was in Florence, not Rome, so they put up quite a protest. I wasn’t there, but I heard about it. In the end, she got exactly what she wanted. Only they called it a ‘Florence Holiday.’ I love it, don’t you? I need to go there.”
I guessed Rosie was referring to the Audrey Hepburn movie Roman Holiday and that Amelia had walked into a salon with her hair trailing over her shoulders and walked out with a pixie cut that showed off her eyes and long neck.
I took another look at Rosie. I couldn’t picture her with a super short haircut.
As I picked strawberries, I considered having my own “Florence Holiday” moment. But my long hair was easy. I could put it up or leave it down. It rarely bothered me and wasn’t thick enough to feel hot.
No, I would keep my style for now. And since Rosie insisted, I would keep the hat too.
Rosie delivered the vegetables while I lingered in the garden, letting a few strawberries dissolve in my mouth.
I loved drawing in the scent of the fresh earth and the unfamiliar birdsongs.
This morning seemed made for prayers and promises.
I offered up both before taking the chipped serving bowl to the villa.
An irresistible fragrance wafted from Amelia’s kitchen when I entered. Claire had fallen into rhythm with Amelia like an experienced sous chef. She noticed me standing by the kitchen door and smiled at the gorgeous mound of strawberries. “You’ve been busy,” she said.
“So have you. It smells good in here.”
“Did you know the center of an onion can cause a bitter taste in Bolognese sauce?” Claire asked me.
“No, I didn’t know that.”
“Amelia always removes the heart of onions before chopping them up.”
“The smaller onions are sweetest,” Amelia added. “When you shop, don’t reach for the big, fat onion, thinking you’ll get more for your money. Buy the smaller ones. Buy for the taste.”
“I’ll remember that.” I took inventory of the number of large pots and pans they were using and had a feeling the dinner in Florence would be a grand affair. I was excited to be part of it and thought it was nice of Amelia to invite us.
“We will let the sauce simmer for exactly three hours and fifteen minutes,” Amelia said.
“My nonna used to leave hers on the stove for six hours, but she wasn’t able to always regulate the heat because her flame would burn out and she would have to relight it.
The low heat on this new stove works beautifully.
She would have been in ragù heaven if she had this stove. ”
“Amelia, what would you like me to do with the strawberries?” I asked.
Rosie entered the kitchen with a crate of what looked like folded tablecloths.
“These are ready to go. What’s next? Oh my, look at how many strawberries you managed to pick!
And by the way, that bothersome hat was made for you.
It suits you perfectly. I hope you keep it.
What do you think, Amelia? Should I zip these strawberries over to Enzo’s and zip back to help with the rest of the food after that?
I can bring back more gelato, if anyone thinks we’re running low.
I confess, I did have a generous helping for breakfast.” Her robust laughter sounded fluttery that morning. It matched everything else about her.
None of us thought we needed more gelato at the moment, and Amelia had plans for the strawberries in her own kitchen.
I slipped upstairs for a quick shower and gathered what I needed for our day of sightseeing.
When I returned, Claire and Amelia were discussing our list of places to visit in Florence.
“Start with Piazzale Michelangelo,” Amelia said, pointing to the map on Claire’s phone. “Then have your driver take you directly to the Uffizi since you have reservations. After that, you can easily walk wherever you want to go. I marked Sophia’s on your map if you decide you want a spuntatina.”
“Got it.” Claire untied her apron and hung it on a hook by the door. “Grace, would you mind setting up our transportation with Amelia? I need to get ready.”
Amelia borrowed my phone. “First, I will put the address for our dinner tonight in your calendar. Do you think you can arrive before six o’clock?”
“Sure, no problem.” I opened my arms to show the summer dress I was wearing. “Is this okay for tonight?”
Amelia seemed surprised that I asked. She nodded and smiled, which I took to mean that what I had on was nice enough for the dinner. I wondered if it would be similar to last night and if we would sit outside. I had my sweater in my day bag in case I needed it.
Next, she made a call to a local taxi service. “They are reliable,” she said. “You Suitcase Sisters don’t need any more flat tires or service trucks!”