Francesca's Kitchen (20 page)

Here, Loretta paused to shake her head. She looked at Francesca and rolled her eyes. “Yeah,” she said with a wry grin, “I was a complete sucker.”

“It happens,” said Francesca sympathetically.

“Well, needless to say, my mother was apoplectic,” Loretta continued, “but I didn't care. So we ended up here in Providence because David found a teaching job through one of his friends. We found a nice little apartment on the East Side. I was happy. He seemed happy. Everything was great, and about a year later, we decided to start a family. And that's when Penny came along. A little over a year after that, I became pregnant again, which I'll admit was something of a surprise. I was happy, though, when I found out, but David wasn't. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I knew that he had been growing distant for a long while, ever since Penny had first been born. That very night when I had planned to tell him I was going to have another baby, David came home from school and told me that he needed to get away. He felt like he was suffocating from work and being a father, he said, and he just needed some time on his own to find himself again. Like
I
never felt the same thing sometimes.”

“What happened when you told him about the baby?” asked Francesca.

Loretta did not answer right away. Instead, she bowed her head and stared down into her teacup for a time, before looking back up at Francesca. “He didn't want me to keep it,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper, her eyes starting to well up. She glanced at a picture frame on the wall that contained a collage of photographs of Will and Penny together from the time they were just toddlers. “Can you imagine it?” the young mother said, her voice cracking with emotion.

“No, I can't,” confessed Francesca, her own eyes growing misty. She reached for a napkin and dabbed the corner of her eyes. “So, what happened next?”

“I was furious,” said Loretta, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. “I told him to go away and do whatever it was he had to do, and that I would take care of my children by myself. It probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but it at least shamed him into staying for a while. It wasn't long after, though, that he finally left—to go find himself.”

“And did he?” asked Francesca.

“Oh, yeah,” said Loretta. “He found himself all right. He found himself with another woman. She must have helped David forget all about marriage being an anachronism, because a year later, they got married and moved to Europe somewhere.”

“Some men,” huffed Francesca, shaking her head angrily. “I just don't know what planet they come from that they can do such things. So does he at least stay in touch with the children?”

“What for?” shrugged Loretta. “Penny was a baby when he left, and Will wasn't even born. Now and then, David used to send me money to help me take care of them, but I always threw it away. I guess he got the message to not bother anymore when he saw that the checks weren't clearing—and so I haven't heard a word from him since. It's almost like I never met him at all. If it weren't for Penny and Will, I'd wish that were true.”

Francesca nodded, to show that she understood. She sat and listened quietly as Loretta went on to talk about her struggles over the years, trying to raise the two small children on her own. She did not want to interrupt, for the words were now pouring out of the woman, like water finally released from a dam that had for too long been on the verge of breaking. As she listened, Francesca was struck by the unmistakable tone of defiance and steely determination in the young mother's voice. What impressed her most, though, was her sense of responsibility, her refusal to blame anyone else for the circumstances in which she had found herself, her willingness to go it all alone if she had to. Her pride.

When Loretta finally finished, her eyes red-rimmed, she sank back on the couch, seemingly spent from the effort. Francesca could not help but beam a smile of admiration at her.

“You know, I didn't know it when I first came here,” she told her, “but you're one tough broad.”

Loretta forced a smile. “Oh, I don't know about that,” she sniffled. “Most days I feel like I'm barely keeping things together. I worry about everything, especially about the kids. Penny is growing up so fast and needs a father in her life who will be there for her. And poor Will, he just needs someone to toss a ball to him now and then. They've both missed out on so much because of me.”

“Listen, honey,” said Francesca gently. “Before you go beating yourself up for no good reason, I think you should know that you've done a great job. You have two wonderful kids. They didn't turn out that way by accident.”

“Then why do I feel so guilty about everything?”

“Why do you think?” laughed Francesca. “It's because deep inside, you're an old Catholic too. If you want to feel better, try going to confession. Works all the time for me.”

“Oh, God, I haven't been to church in a thousand years,” groaned Loretta. “The walls would fall down around me the second I stepped inside. I never even had the kids baptized.”

“Well, at least you wouldn't be at a loss for words in the confessional,” noted Francesca.

“No, I suppose not,” sighed Loretta. She gazed pensively out the window for a moment. “But I don't know how I could ever go back,” she said, “even if I wanted to. It's too late for me.”

“Nonsense. It's never too late for anyone,” Francesca told her, “not if it's something you really want.”

“I don't know,” said Loretta with another weary sigh. “Right about now, all I really want is to go to sleep for a couple of years and just let everything work itself out on its own.”

“A couple of years might be hard to arrange,” laughed Francesca. “But I think a couple more good days of rest might work just as well. You'll see, things will work themselves out. They always do, and never the way you expected, almost like magic.”

With that, Francesca patted Loretta on the hand and began to collect the teacups and saucers. She squeezed them onto the tray along with the plate of pizzelle, and stood.

“Well, that's enough for today,” she said. “Now you should go back upstairs and get some rest, while I get dinner started. The kids should be home any minute. If you're up to it, maybe tomorrow we'll chat again, and we can both drag a few more skeletons out of our family closets.”

“There's plenty left in mine,” chuckled Loretta before adding, “But you know, I'd really like to help you with dinner, if I could. I mean, I am feeling a little better. It wouldn't be too much.”

“Well, there's really not much to do,” replied Francesca. “The sauce is already made. All that's left to do is boil some water for the macaroni.”

“Hmm, boil some water,” said Loretta, thoughtfully scratching her chin as though she were pondering some great mystery. “Now I know it's a stretch, but I think that's something I might be able to handle…that is, if you show me how.”

Francesca caught the mischievous sparkle in the young woman's eyes. “Oh, yes,” she nodded, a playful gleam coming to her own eyes, “boiling water's a perfect place to begin if you want to learn how to cook. Come on, I'll show you how it's done.”

“Great,” smiled Loretta. “And maybe while we're at it, you can tell me again how to make that sauce.”

“Of course. Grab a pencil and paper. It's the easiest recipe in the world.”

Loretta was just pulling herself off the couch to follow Francesca's lead when suddenly the front door burst open, and Penny and Will, laughing the whole way, came tumbling in. The two must have raced home from the bus stop, for they were all out of breath as they picked themselves up from the floor.

“Hey!” shouted Loretta. “How many times have I told you guys not to come roughhousing through the door like that!”

“It worked, Mrs. C! It worked!” cried Will, beaming with excitement. “I didn't think it would when I went to bed last night, but I tried it anyway!”

“What on earth are you talking about?” said Loretta, turning dumbfounded eyes to Francesca, who looked equally baffled.

“Show them, dopie,” said Penny, giving her brother an elbow in the side.

His eyeglasses sliding at an odd angle down his nose, Will pulled open the top of his backpack and reached in. “The bus driver said he found it under a seat,” he gushed as he rummaged through the sack.

“Found what?” asked his mother, still perplexed by all the commotion.

“Look!” the young boy cried triumphantly, holding up his lost math book for all to see.

Francesca looked on, and smiled with deep satisfaction. Apparently, Saint Anthony had come through once again.

H
aving spent the better part of the week in bed sleeping, Loretta awoke on Friday morning as reasonably refreshed as one might expect after enduring a bout with the flu. Unlike most mornings, when the obnoxious buzzing of the alarm clock was enough to plunge her into despair—and back under the blankets—on this day, she casually reached over and turned it off. Contrary to Francesca's prediction, the additional hours of rest from taking an extra day off had not left Loretta feeling ten years younger. Happily, though, she realized that at least she no longer felt ten years older.

Tugging her legs out from beneath the covers, Loretta set her feet on the floor and gazed out the window. Away to the east, the rising winter sun was still only a crescent of embers on the horizon. The rest of the outdoors was bathed in a muted glow, which gave the trees and the houses a soft, velvety quality. As she sat there, considering the scene, Loretta realized that there was a simple beauty to the dawn, one that she had somehow forgotten in her frenetic life. Despite the chill in the house and the temptation to crawl back into the warm confines of the bed, Loretta was glad to be awake to see it. With a yawn and a stretch, she got to her feet and went to wake up the kids for school. They, she reflected with a sigh, would not be so taken with the tranquil virtues of that early hour.

“Come on, guys, up and at 'em!” she called, setting the merry-go-round once more in motion.

When she arrived at work that morning, Loretta stopped by Mr. Pace's office before going to her desk. The door was ajar, but as expected, the senior partner was not yet in. Stealing inside, she left the thank-you note she had written atop his desk, leaning against the telephone, where he was sure to see it. Then she hurried off to get her workday started.

“What are
you
doing here?” asked a surprised Shirley a little while afterwards, when she happened by Loretta's desk. “It's Friday. I thought for sure you were going to call it a week and just stay home till Monday. Believe me, that's what I would have done.”

“The thought did cross my mind,” admitted Loretta.

Shirley shook her head disapprovingly. “You know, chances like that don't come around very often,” she said. “Well, I hope you're at least feeling all better.”

“Pretty much,” said Loretta. “I suppose I could have milked it for one more day, but I thought it would be good to come in and get caught up a little bit today so that I'm not so far behind on Monday.” Then, taking on a pious air, she playfully added, “But what can I say? I guess I'm just a workaholic.”

“Oh, right,” chuckled her friend. “My guess, is you're planning to meet someone for lunch.”

“I only wish,” sighed Loretta.

“Too bad you didn't come in yesterday,” said Shirley. “You're old friend Ned Hadley was here.”

“Really,” replied Loretta coolly. “He didn't by chance trip and fall down a flight of stairs or anything like that?”

“Sorry,” laughed Shirley. “He managed to stay on his feet for the whole day, as far as I could see.” Then, with an impish gaze, she said, “I did hear that he was asking for you.”

“Oh, goodie,” replied Loretta, her already-sour expression turning into one of complete disdain.

“So, I take it by that look on your face that you're not going to give him another chance?”

“Oh, please,” huffed Loretta. “I went out with him once, and then I got sick as a dog for a week. I'm taking that as a sign to stay away.”

“Smart girl.”

“As a matter of fact,” Loretta went on, “I think I'm planning on staying away from men in general for a while.”

“Ha!” scoffed Shirley. “Good luck making
that
last.”

“Well, it's at least worth a try,” said Loretta, herself skeptical of the odds. “At least for this weekend.”

“Don't even worry about this weekend, honey,” said Shirley. “All every guy in America is thinking about this week is the stupid football game on Sunday.”

“That's right,” laughed Loretta. “I forgot all about the Super Bowl. Not that I care anyway. I never even watch it.”

“Ugh,” groaned Shirley. “It's always such a bore. At least it means the football season is finally all over, thank God. Maybe now the guys will want to discuss something different at the watercooler.”

“Yeah,” snickered Loretta. “They'll all want to talk about
next
season.”

The two kibitzed for a while longer, cheerfully casting aspersions on the male of the species and discussing the latest company gossip. It wasn't long, though, before Shirley went on her way, leaving Loretta to her work.

Later that morning, as it was nearing lunchtime, a golf ball came slowly rolling past Loretta's desk. It bumped up against the wall a few feet past her, bounced back an inch or two, and came to rest. Leaning over to the side, Loretta peeked out of her cubicle. As expected, she saw Mr. Pace ambling down the hall in her direction. The old gent seemed less intent on retrieving the ball than he did on inspecting the grip of the putter he was carrying. He turned the club over in his hand, examining it with a look of perturbation.

“Thought I had that putt read perfectly,” he muttered. Then, looking up with a half smile at Loretta, he added, “It must be the putter that's the problem, not the man doing the putting, right?”

“Oh, no question about it, Mister Pace,” Loretta agreed. “I'm sure they don't make those clubs like they used to.”

“Maybe we could file a lawsuit,” he mused, giving her a conspiratorial wink. “You can't imagine the pain and anguish I've suffered on a golf course. I could tell you some stories that would have the jury in tears.”

“Just give me the word, and I'll start writing up the papers,” she offered.

“Well, not just yet,” he said, clearing his throat. “For the time being, I just stopped by to thank you for your nice note.”

“Thank
you
for all the nice food,” replied Loretta. “That was really sweet of you. You shouldn't have gone to the trouble.”

“Oh, it was no trouble at all,” he said. “Gave me a good excuse to get out of the office. Besides, I enjoyed meeting your Mrs. Campanile. She seemed very nice—and she makes an excellent spaghetti sauce, you know.”

“Yes, she does,” said Loretta, eyeing him with curiosity. “But how did you know that?”

“Oh, while I was there, she let me come into the kitchen and have a little taste test with some Italian bread I had brought,” he explained.

“Did she really?” said Loretta, nodding thoughtfully. “Now that's very interesting.”

“Of course, she seemed quite busy,” Pace hastily added, “and I had to get back to the office, so I didn't stay long. I don't want you to get the wrong idea, that she was shirking her duties or anything like that. But I rather enjoyed talking to her…that is…what I mean to say is that she seemed very…” The senior partner's face suddenly flushed, and he gave a little cough. Stooping down, he snatched up the wayward golf ball and tossed the putter atop his shoulder.

“At any rate,” he said, turning quickly to go, “I suppose I should get back to work before I get myself in trouble. Nice to see you healthy again. Have a good weekend, Loretta.”

“You too, Mister Pace,” she called after him.

Drumming her fingers on her chin, something Loretta did when she was deep in thought, she watched him saunter back down the hall. A smile came to her face, for a silly, impossible notion had just crossed her mind, one that hadn't the least chance of ever coming to fruition. Nonetheless, the thought of it brought a warm glow to her heart, which would carry her through the rest of the day.

“Yes,” Loretta chuckled to herself as she turned her attention back to her work, “that was very interesting indeed.”



Francesca and the kids were in the kitchen, sitting around the table, when Loretta returned home that evening. The three had been talking and laughing so loudly that none of them heard her come through the door. She stepped quickly inside and stuck her head into the kitchen.

“Hey, what is this? Nobody comes to the door anymore when I come home?” she said, feigning a pout.

“Hi, Mom!” called Will. “What's for supper?”

“Ayyy, never mind about supper,” Francesca chided him. “The two of you, go give your mother a hug when she gets home from work.”

With exaggerated enthusiasm, the two hurried over to embrace their mother. Penny rested her head on Loretta's shoulder and looked up at her with angelic eyes. “It's so nice to have you home, Mother dear,” she said sweetly. Then, “So, what's for supper?”

“Pizza, you brats,” said Loretta, playfully pinching their ears. “How does that sound?”

“Ouch,” Penny winced. “Pizza works for me.”

“Me too,” added Will, rubbing his ear as he squirmed free. “I'm going to play some PS2 while we wait.”

“And I'll be upstairs,” said Penny, pushing past her brother. And off the two went.

“You know, I would have been happy to cook supper tonight,” said Francesca when the children were out of earshot. “You still look tired.”

“No, you've already done way too much this week,” said Loretta, sitting down at the table. “I'm really grateful, by the way.”

Francesca shrugged and gave her a dismissive wave.

“Well, anyway,” Loretta went on, “it's Friday night, so who wants to cook?” She paused to assess the older woman's reaction. “That doesn't make me a bad mother, does it?”

“No, not at all,” laughed Francesca. “Like you said, it's Friday. Everybody deserves a break. The most important thing, no matter who cooks supper, is that you all sit down together every night to eat it. That's what counts. Believe me, if you do nothing else but that when you're raising kids, you've got half the battle won.”

Loretta nodded respectfully. Francesca, she was discovering, was a font of simple wisdom on a variety of subjects. She admired that a great deal about her. Just the same, despite her growing esteem for the older woman, Loretta could not suppress an impish impulse.

“I happened to see Mister Pace today,” she said, the hint of a mischievous smile coming to her face.

“Oh, that's nice,” said Francesca, betraying no evidence of emotion at the pronouncement.

“Yes,” Loretta continued. “He said he enjoyed meeting you—and getting to taste the sauce you were making that day.”

Francesca narrowed her gaze at the younger woman. “So?” she said with a touch of annoyance in her voice.

“Oh, nothing,” said Loretta innocently. “I just thought it was funny that the first thing you did when you two met was to give him something to eat, that's all.”

Francesca, no doubt, caught the knowing gleam in the young woman's eye, for her face reddened ever so slightly. “It just goes to show that you have to be careful who you feed,” she said, taking the offensive. With that, Francesca got to her feet and pushed her chair back in place. “Well, I think it's time for me to be going home now.”

Ever so pleased with herself for having once gotten the better of her venerable babysitter, Loretta walked Francesca to the door.

“Come say good night to Mrs. Campanile, Will,” she said.

“Good night, Mrs. C,” said Will as they passed, his eyes reverting immediately to the television.

“Good night, Will. Be a good boy,” Francesca told him.

“Penny!” Loretta called up the stairs. “Say good-bye to Mrs. Campanile.”

No answer came.

“Penny!” she called again with the same result. “What is she doing up there?”

“What do you think?” said Will. “She's on the computer.”

Loretta shook her head. “I don't know what to do sometimes,” she said to Francesca. “I worry all the time about what she's doing up there on that computer, what she's looking at on the Internet, who she's talking to.”

“Why don't you just move the computer down here, where you can keep an eye on her?” Francesca said simply.

Loretta scowled with annoyance at the simple, inescapable logic of the suggestion, her smug self-satisfaction of just a few moments earlier gone with the wind.

“Well, good night everybody,” said Francesca, an impish look coming into her own eyes. “See you on Monday.” With that, she turned and headed out the door.

Loretta could only stand there, fuming, as she watched the old woman make her way down the steps. She stayed there, tapping her foot, until she could contain herself no more.

“Oh, you think you're so smart!” she finally cried out.

From out in the darkness, she could hear Francesca break into unrestrained laughter. Then, in spite of herself, Loretta broke out into laughter too. She waved good-bye, closed the door, and went to the window. Will put aside the video game controller and stood beside her.

“You know, Mrs C is okay,” he said, looking out. “But sometimes, she thinks she knows everything, doesn't she.”

“Yes, she does,” Loretta agreed.

She smiled, though, because as she watched Francesca drive away, Loretta suddenly realized that something quite unexpected had happened between her and the old Catholic Italian lady who sometimes made her feel guilty.

They were becoming friends.