The Chocolatier Read online

  “There’s a vacant space next to my fashion boutique in Amalfi in the Piazza del Duomo, the main street near the cathedral. It would be so much fun to have you there.”

  The Duomo. That was the lovely Sant’Andrea cathedral in the heart of the village that rose sixty steps above the piazza. She’d been enthralled by the Byzantine façade and the soaring interior.

  It was a perfect location. “Do you think it’s expensive?”

  Adele shook her head. “I don’t think so. The shop needs work. Oh, Sara would be so happy if you stayed. Imagine what Nino would have thought, too. I’m sure he would have been so pleased to know that you and his son are here.”

  “Really?” Celina quickly glanced up. She doubted that, but Adele’s expression seemed so genuine. Had she known about the disagreement Tony had with his family? “How was Tony—Nino—when you knew him?”

  A far-away look settled over Adele. “He was such a good soul.”

  Celina nodded. “Did he seem different to you?”

  “Different?” Adele intoned.

  “From Lauro and his parents, I mean.”

  “Nino was always...” Adele’s voice trailed off as she seemed to search for the right word. “Distracted, I guess. I’m not surprised he left. He inherited the wanderlust of our ancestors, ancient mariners who sailed the world in search of silk and spices. Amalfi was a crucial trading port, dating back centuries into antiquity.” She laughed softly. “How Nino loved to sail. Oh, the fun we had, sailing to Capri with our families, skiing in the Alps.”

  Celina grew quiet while Adele reminisced about their childhood. She hadn’t known any of this. Tony had never told her about skiing or sailing. But then, one of his legs often bothered him. Shrapnel, he’d told her. That was why he never danced. No wonder he hadn’t mentioned skiing. He’d probably lost the ability. Her heart clenched at the thought. Since she’d been here, discovering Tony’s old life, she realized how much he’d left behind and how much he’d been through since. He’d been forced to become a different person.

  “Do you sail?” Adele was smiling at her.

  Pulling herself back to the present, Celina sipped her lemonade. “No, but Tony loved to watch the sailboats in the San Francisco bay. We’d have picnics on the shore on Sundays.”

  Adele looked surprised. “He didn’t sail anymore?”

  “His leg had been injured. His balance wasn’t as good as it could have been.” Would that have mattered? When Adele looked confused, Celina added, “We didn’t have the money for a sailboat. We’d been saving to buy our house, and after we bought it, we put a lot of money into making it a home.”

  Adele sighed. “I guess we all grew up.” She leaned on the table and cupped her chin in her hand. “He was a good man, but you know that. I feel so sorry for you.”

  Celina blinked back emotion. “We loved each other a great deal.”

  Stretching her hand across the table, Adele smoothed her hand over Celina’s. “We all miss him.”

  “So do we.” Celina took another drink, swallowing hard against the lump that had formed in her throat.

  She peered at Adele, whose dark eyes were filled with compassion and framed with long, inky lashes. What a beautiful woman she was, inside and out. Celina had to understand what had happened here with Tony. If not, whatever it was could shade her son’s relationship with his grandparents and other family members.

  “Adele, do you know anything about an argument my husband had with his family?”

  Parting her lips as if to speak, Adele caught herself and shook her head. “Would it matter now?”

  “It might to my son.”

  Casting her gaze down, Adele seemed to consider this but only shook her head again.

  “Did it have to do with Lauro?”

  Adele drew in a breath. “Celina, really, that was such a long time ago.” She half-rose from her chair.

  Celina gripped Adele’s hand. The woman knew something, and it would haunt Celina until she found out.

  “Sara and Carmine couldn’t have been more welcoming to Marco and me, but Lauro is a mystery. As a mother, my main concern is for my son. You understand, yes?”

  “Of course,” Adele said softly.

  “Whatever concerned Tony—Nino, might also affect his son. If we were to stay here, would my son hear of this from someone else? Would it hurt him? If so, please tell me so that I can be prepared.”

  Adele raked her teeth over her lower lip, hesitating.

  “My son has suffered enough from being blindsided by tragedy.” Celina moved closer. “As for me, you won’t hurt my feelings. Nothing can possibly hurt any more than I have already suffered.”

  “I think you are stronger than you look, yes?”

  Celina nodded, willing her on.

  Adele shifted with unease in her chair. “It was so many years ago, but I don’t think Lauro and Nino ever forgave each other.”

  What had Sara said? Lauro is still grieving. Clutching Adele’s hand, she asked, “Did the argument have to do with Isabella?”

  Adele’s gaze darted away. “Then you know.”

  “Sara only mentioned her name.”

  As she watched Adele pick at a loose thread on her dress, a question she hated to even think of formed in her mind, yet she had to ask. If she were to stay here, she had to know what was behind Lauro’s treatment of her.

  Celina drew a breath and tried to imagine her husband as a young man, long before they’d met. Tony, Lauro, Isabella…

  A thought crept into Celina’s mind. “Was my husband in love with Isabella?”

  Chapter 11

  With her head tilted back, Celina swiveled, awestruck at the starry kaleidoscope on the soaring ceiling above her in the vacant shop. Moved by the hand-painted stars, she imagined how much her mother would have liked this place. Stella. How she wished she could see it. Dust motes danced around her in tempered rhythm to an enthralling adagio drifting from the café next door.

  “What was this place?”

  “Most recently, a shop for baby clothes,” Adele said, gingerly bypassing an intricate spider’s web laced from a chandelier to a display rack. “The last tenants, a young couple, were successful here. They outgrew the space and moved into a larger shop.” She pushed open curtains, allowing sunshine to wash over abandoned glass cases.

  “Why has it been closed up so long?”

  “The landlord is lazy about renting it, and he’s particular. He can afford to be. But I had a spare key.”

  Celina stooped to rescue a stuffed brown bear wedged under one of the cases. “Hello, you,” she said, dusting it off and setting it on a shelf. Earlier this morning, Adele had picked her up at the villa, excited to show her the vacancy next to her fashion boutique. Sara had begged her to leave Marco with her, saying that she wanted to show him some of his father’s old toys and games.

  “It’s interesting,” Celina said. “But I will need a kitchen.”

  “There’s one downstairs. I haven’t seen it, but I’m afraid it’s not going to be as modern as what you’re used to in San Francisco.”

  “We have a lot of old buildings there, too.” She sniffed the air. Maybe not this old, though.

  “Needs a good cleaning,” Adele said, stifling a sneeze from the dust. “But a lot of people walk by this location.”

  “The café next door...is it busy?” La Petite Maison du Chocolat in San Francisco was near a popular restaurant, and the shop had received a lot of foot traffic from it.

  “Always. Between locals and tourists, people often wait to get a table.”

  That was encouraging, Celina thought. She might even be able to supply chocolates to the café. Walking across the floor, her heel caught on a cracked tile.

  Adele caught her arm. “The place needs some work, too.”

  “How is the landlord about making repairs?”

  “He can’t be bothered.” Adele shrugged. “Werner did all the work for me before I moved in, and he takes care of the property for me.” br />
  “I have to be concerned about the condition,” Celina said, frowning. She liked Adele, but her new friend had no idea what it was like to be a woman on her own.

  Celina set her jaw. “I can handle the cleaning and painting.” She tapped on the broken tile. “And the tile work. Maybe even the electrical.”

  “My husband could recommend some friends of his to help.”

  She cast a wary glance toward Adele. “That would be a big help, but no mashers allowed.”

  “I’ll screen them myself.”

  Celina glanced up at the starry ceiling and imagined display cases filled with heavenly chocolates in the shapes of stars and moons, and seashells and dolphins, circling her truffles dusted with sea salt and filled with the fruits of the region. She’d clean the gilded crystal chandelier, polish the tile floor, and maybe paint a mural on the walls—of San Francisco or a reflection of the mountains that cradled this area. How many times had she and Tony watched the stars twinkle over the bay?

  “This space could be stunning,” Celina said.

  “What would you call it?”

  Celina raised her gaze to the starry ceiling. “My mother’s name was Stella, so Stella di Cioccolato.” She mused over the idea, imagining her mother’s happy, loving embrace.

  “You can do a lot with that name. I see chocolate stars in your future.”

  Celina imagined a glittery silver and gold starred theme, maybe blanketed with an inky blue background. Or something more modern, like silver stars and pink polka dots. Her mind was whirring with dizzying possibilities.

  Celina spied a staircase behind a low wall. “Let’s see the kitchen.”

  The stone stairs were sturdy enough and had been built for the ages. Adele flicked on the lights at the bottom.

  A thick layer of dust covered everything, but all the equipment was there. Stovetop, ovens, sink, countertops. The equipment was old but serviceable. There was room to bring in the specialized equipment she’d need, too. High windows would let in light, once she removed the boards covering them. She’d be spending a lot of time here. She’d have to install a bell on the door or hire extra help for the front, not unlike the set up at La Petite Maison du Chocolat. She wondered what the going wages were here.

  “What do you think?” Adele seemed even more excited than she was.

  Celina could hardly believe she was actually considering this. “I think it would do.”

  They climbed the steps, and as they were turning off the lights, a couple passing by stopped and looked into the open door. Recognizing Adele, they broke into a rapid conversation, laughing and gesturing.

  Celina smiled and nodded, but she could hardly follow the conversation beyond a few words. A knot formed in her stomach. She didn’t fully understand the language or the customs.

  Was opening a chocolate boutique in Italy a crazy idea?

  Absolutely.

  Yet, Tony’s parents would love for her and Marco to stay, even if Lauro would be a perennial problem. When her memories of Tony didn’t mesh with those of his brother, Lauro had decided she was a fraud, ignoring the fact that war and time changed people.

  Still, what did she have to lose in San Francisco? Lizzie was angling for a starring role on Broadway or maybe films in Hollywood, and Marge was intent on retiring to the country someday. Celina was only thirty. Didn’t she have the right to recreate her life?

  Maybe it was time for a little crazy.

  She ran her hands over lacy grapevines and sweet cherubs rendered in plaster relief on the walls, remnants of another tenant, no doubt, and covered with layers of paint. She wondered how many shops had occupied this old building, and how many entrepreneurs had expressed their passion through artistry and grown their business here.

  What would it hurt to dream? It was tempting.

  More than anything else, Celina yearned to the depths of her soul to belong somewhere with her son. To have a home. She had noticed that people who had families often took them for granted, as though they would always be there in the bright light of morning. Once, she had, too. Did others realize what might await them on the far side of midnight? Or knowing the alternative, did they consciously choose life? Perhaps some did.

  She must.

  It was the only way she had managed to rise every morning these past six months. And now, a glorious, shiny second chance glittered within her reach.

  Adele held a hand out to her. “I want you to meet my friends.”

  Although they could not share a language, Adele had told them about her potential plans.

  “Cioccolato,” the pair said, exchanging a look of delight.

  Chocolate was a universal language.

  Adele traded cheek kisses with her friends before they left, and Celina followed suit. “Ciao, ciao,” Celina said.

  “They’re happy to know you and hope you stay,” Adele said, translating the conversation.

  For the first time in many months, Celina felt desire supplant despair. She wondered how long it would take for her to become fluent in Italian. Perhaps people would forgive her bumbling efforts. She couldn’t help but smile to herself. If they didn’t, they’d miss her chocolate.

  “Let’s get out of this dust,” Adele said.

  After they locked up, they made their way over to Adele’s boutique. Lining the walls were hand-tailored dresses with full skirts and wasp waists, lightweight sweaters with pencil-slim skirts, and colorful beachwear.

  Surrounded with color, shades of marine blue, sunny yellow, and peony pink lifted Celina’s spirit. Thinking of Lizzie and Marge, she imagined what fun they would have here.

  Adele eyed Celina’s subdued gray skirt and white blouse. “As long as you’re trying on a new life, you might as well look the part, too.” She reached for a coral linen sundress and matching woven sandals. “These are about your size. Try them on.” She led her to the rear of the shop and parted curtains in one corner to reveal a dressing area.

  A bell on the door tinkled, announcing a visitor. “Just a moment. But I want to see that on you.” Adele swept the curtain back and hurried away.

  Celina shrugged out of her clothes. The linen felt cool against her skin, and the skirt skimmed her hips and swirled around her calves. She peered into the small mirror on the wall and brushed her hair from her face. The coral hue illuminated her face, and it was certainly an improvement over what she’d been wearing. Lizzie would definitely approve. When she had written to offer an extension to her sublet tenants in her apartment, they had agreed with enthusiasm. Could she really give up that life so easily?

  Maybe I can. Celina stepped back, thoughtfully regarding herself in this new garb, and what it represented.

  A different life sparkled before her—if she chose to accept it, embrace it, and claim it. She was old enough to know that no matter what accouterments of life shifted around her, she remained the same inside—though wiser, perhaps. Yet she couldn’t deny the beauty of her surroundings, and the warmth and acceptance of most of Tony’s family. She was also too old to expect perfection. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and pushed aside the curtain to step in front of a larger mirror to see the full effect.

  “Stunning,” Adele said, clapping her hands.

  Celina looked up to catch Adele’s gaze in the mirror behind her, but behind her stood Lauro, silently taking her in. She whirled around. She’d managed to avoid him after the horse riding incident, and Adele and Werner had kindly led her back to the Savoia villa later. Celina lifted her chin and readied herself for a confrontation.

  Adele turned to him. “What do you think, Lauro?”

  “She looks...beautiful,” he said, clearly flustered.

  A customer motioned to Adele. “Scusi,” she said, hurrying to help the other woman.

  The last thing Celina wanted was a recurrence of the incident from their horseback riding.

  Lauro locked on her eyes in the mirror. “I need to apologize.”

  Words she thought she’d never hear. Celina glanced
over her shoulder. “I don’t care what you need. But yes, you should.”

  Lauro’s neck flushed, and he shifted from one foot to another. She’d made him uncomfortable. Good. Just as he’d made her feel violated. He was nothing like his brother. Placing her hands on her hips, she spun to face him.

  Taking a few steps toward her, Lauro gazed at her, and she felt her skin blaze under the heat of his stare. He stopped in front of her.

  “I did not mean you harm,” he said, searching her eyes as if he could see into her very soul.

  “Your actions…it wasn’t right of you. Tony was your brother.”

  Lauro acknowledged this with a slight nod. “I’m truly sorry,” he said, his voice deepening. “But your presence mesmerized me, your soul glows from within, illuminating all around you. You cannot blame me for falling into your beauty.”

  Her lips parted to rebuke him, but no sound came out. Who spoke like that? No one she knew, and few she’d ever met. Where was the surly man she’d come to know? She knew how to handle him. But this one? A poet? Not at all. She felt as if the North Star had shifted and the earth had tilted beneath her feet. A strange light was seeping through a fissure crack in her carefully protected world.

  “You hate me,” she said, clinging to the familiar status quo.

  His brow crinkled with concern, and surprise registered on his face. “I might have had my reservations—”

  “That’s more like it.” Dismissing him, she began to turn around.

  “Wait,” he said, swiftly sliding his hand over her forearm. “I’ve been…mistaken.”

  She bristled against his touch but found she couldn’t bear to force his hand away. As if magnetized, she stood motionless, sensing energy flowing into her and filling her with a strange intensity that attracted as much as repelled her.

  Why was he having this effect on her? She’d come to revile his attitude toward her. Steeling herself, she raised her eyes to his—questioning pools of agony and adoration shimmering with light. His breath labored, and his full lips twitched with barely contained passion.

  Celina moistened her suddenly dry lips. “I must have your assurance that—”