The Queen of Minor Disasters (18 page)

Maybe I can use the money as
the first month’s rent for an apartment in Manhattan. Once I’m there I’m sure I
can find a great job doing…well. I’m sure I can find something. Plus, this way
I can live close to Drew and we’ll see each other every day. It’s strange but
as I’m thinking of New York, images of Roberto keep popping into my head.

I take a few extra minutes
applying concealer to my eyes and dusting bronzer on my cheeks, just in case
Roberto stops by with a bread delivery.

By 10:00 a.m. I’m in the
restaurant, already whisking egg whites into stiff peaks to mix into my cake
batter. Today I’m making the Money Cake, the end-all-be-all of cakes, which my
mother has made for every single one of my birthdays. I’m sure she’ll be making
it in August, but I can’t wait until then. This is my cake and today, when I’m
finished assembling it, I’ll cut a thick slab and eat it for lunch. I’m that
happy.

The Money Cake looks like your
average Strawberry Short Cake. You know, the tall ones piled high with pound
cake and whipped cream. Only this is different because the cake is Pan di
Spagnia, Italy’s version of Angel Food Cake. It’s light and spongy with a
slight hint of sweetness that makes the entire cake heavenly. Stuffed with
fresh strawberries, the cake screams summer. I’m not sure why we haven’t
thought of putting it on the dessert list before.

I follow the recipe exactly
and it looks right. This time I preheated the oven as soon as I got here, so
there’ll be no mistakes.

As the cake bakes, I make
myself an espresso and look out towards the street. There are crowds of people
walking along the sidewalks, some stopping to read our menu or peek inside the
window. I smile.

The restaurant business is
hard work but it’s worth it. We endure the long hours and seemingly endless
summer so people can enjoy themselves when they walk through our door, and sometimes,
the smiles on their faces are the only thanks we get. But still, I can’t
imagine what my life would be like without a restaurant. Already, it will be so
different with La Cucina closing. My heart pounds as I realize, once again,
that I will not have a job at the end of the summer. Maybe winning that money
was a sign from God, giving me a little savings before I’m dropped on my head.

Miraculously, the cake bakes
evenly, and by noon, I’m finished dressing the cake and am ready to taste it. I
cut myself a slice, ignoring the calories and fat in each bite, and sit down to
enjoy it. I don’t even take my apron off, as it feels more authentic to reap
the fruits of my labor while still being dressed the part. I take a bite of the
moist cake and savor the burst of strawberries in my mouth.

A tap on the window startles
me out of my trance. I look up to see a teenage boy holding a large vase of
flowers. Every so often, a customer will have flowers sent to the restaurant
for their table. This happens about four or five times a season and is usually
for a table of twelve or larger. I don’t remember any big parties reserved for
tonight. I open the door to let him in.

“I have a delivery for Stella
DiLucio,” he says, awkwardly carrying the vase into the restaurant. He places
it down on the hostess stand and hands me a slip to sign.

I take the piece of paper from
his hand, sign it and give it back to him without a word. I’m mesmerized. The
square vase is full of giant orange gerbera daisies, peach and white roses,
plush amaryllis, pink snapdragons, and delicate white orchids. The signature
brown and white polka-dot bow tells me they are from Dot and Bloom, the
Island’s premier florist and my immediate thought is that this grand gesture is
from Drew. He’s finally come to his senses and wants me back. Good thing I
didn’t put the plan into action.

I tear open the card.

For the most
beautiful Star on the island.

The minute I read the card I
know they are from Roberto, and I have to admit, a tiny part of me is elated.
At the very least, I know that if things don’t work out with Drew, I have a
nice back-up plan. Not that I’m giving up hope on Drew just yet.

***

“You look happy tonight,” Mr.
Godil comments as I seat him at his regular table.

“That’s what flowers will do to
a girl,” I say. His wife smiles.

Even though I’m tempted to
daydream all night, I need to focus on work. My brothers and Lucy are all
sluggish, which can mean a disaster for reservations. If we don’t move people
in and out of the restaurant, I’ll be backed up once again. I walk into the
kitchen. “Who wants espresso?” I ask.

Lorenzo raises his hand.

“A double,” Mario says.

I walk by the waiters’ station
and ask Lucy if she wants one. She’s been quiet all day and barely took notice
of my flowers. “No thanks.” She walks past me as I fiddle with the espresso
machine. I know something is up, but I won’t let it get to me. Not in front of
the flowers.

Back in the kitchen, my
brothers are arguing about veal. Lorenzo generally serves two pieces per
portion and it’s one of the many things Mario is trying to change since he’s
been in the kitchen. I place their coffees on the line and walk back to the
dining room.

By 7:45 I’m calm. Michelle and
Brittany have been picking up the slack and have each turned their tables
quickly, making my life a little easier. The tables for 8:00 will be available
without even a five-minute wait.

The rest of the night
progresses smoothly and I’m amazed at how my brothers do it all. Since the
article, our numbers have jumped to almost 200 dinners a night. We’re not open
longer hours, so those extra people are being brought in all at the same time.

And since the money seems to
be pouring in, I’m thinking of asking my parents for a raise. It’s the least
they can do considering they’ve decided to sell La Cucina.

By 11:30 I’m running on an
espresso-induced autopilot. Good thing I’ve got this money counting thing down
to a science. In the office, I swiftly divide all the bills into piles and tap
the numbers into my calculator with ease.

“Do you have our tips yet?”
Brittany asks coming into the office.

I hand her envelopes for her
and Michelle. “What about Lucy’s?” she asks.

“I’ll give it to her later,” I
say.

“She asked if I could just get
it.”

“Oh.” I hand over Lucy’s
envelope.

I follow Brittany out into the
dining room and walk towards Lucy. “Want a glass of wine by the bay?” I ask.

“I’m actually going to my
aunt’s again. I’m really tired.”

I don’t understand why she has
to go to her aunt’s if she’s tired, but I let it go. Obviously she’s hanging
out with someone else, and my gut is telling me it’s some big-time loser.

Yields 12 servings

This is the end-all-be-all of
cakes, ladies. It should be a staple in your dessert repertoire. Trust me on
this one.

Pan Di Spagnia

(This cake can also be used
when making Italian Rum Cake, or simply, as angel food cake.)

5 eggs, separated

1 cup sugar

3/4 cup all-purpose flour

1
       
teaspoon Baking powder

1)
     
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Line the bottom of a
9-inch spring form pan with wax paper. Set aside.

2)
     
In a large bowl, beat egg yolks with sugar until
soft yellow (about two minutes).

3)
     
In a different bowl, beat egg whites until they
form stiff peaks.

4)
     
Sift together flour and baking soda.

5)
     
Alternate folding the egg whites into the yolks,
adding a small bit of flour after each incorporation. Repeat until all the egg
whites and flour have been added.

6)
     
Pour into prepared pan and tap the pan against the
counter a few times to settle any air bubbles.

7)
     
Bake for 25-30 minutes or until a toothpick
inserted in the center comes out clean.

8)
     
Cool completely before removing from the pan.

To assemble the Money Cake:

1 quart of heavy whipping
cream

8 tablespoons powdered sugar

1 cup simple syrup

2
       
pints strawberries, sliced

1)
     
Whip the heavy cream and powdered sugar together
until it forms stiff peaks. Set aside in fridge.

2)
     
Cut the Pan Di Spagnia in thirds lengthwise. Pour
simple syrup onto each layer to moisten.

3)
     
Starting with the bottom layer, spread whipped
cream over the inside of the cake, add sliced strawberries.

4)
     
Top with the next layer and repeat. Don’t worry if
the layers are crooked, it gets sliced anyway.

5)
     
Place the top layer over the cake. Spread whipped
cream over the entire surface of the cake, smoothing with a spatula. Place
remaining strawberries on top.

6)
     
Refrigerate until ready to serve.

The bridesmaids’ dresses are
in. When Gina called and left me a message about it last week, I scheduled an
appointment at Bella Sposa’s to get my first fitting. But when my dad calls to
remind me this morning, I completely blank.

“Your dress appointment is
today,” he says when I answer.

“Oh God,” I say fumbling for
my clock. It’s 6:30. “I’ll be on the road in twenty minutes.” I get out of bed.

 “Drive safely.”

My dad is so cute sometimes.
Despite being busy at the restaurant, he’s offered to drive me to Maryland,
where my dress is waiting. Even though there are many dress shops in Long
Island, Gina chose to get her dress at Bella Sposa’s in Townsend, Maryland,
because the shop is owned by two of our good customers. She was skeptical at
first, but when we drove there with our mothers in March and she saw their
selection, she knew it was the best shop around. And Maria and Charlene, the
owners, fawned over her just enough to convince her of the right gown for her.
Even the sample dress was stunning. When she walked out in a satin Am Sale ball
gown, my mother teared up. It didn’t matter that it was three sizes too big and
pinned tight in the back; we could all envision her as she’ll be in just a few
months.

Luckily, Gina allowed me to
have a say in the bridesmaids’ dresses and we decided on a delicious chocolate
brown silk gown, with a slight mermaid shape. I love the low V in the back, and
envision wearing my hair in a low bun to highlight the cut of the dress. I may
be short, but I’ve got a great back. 

I make a fast stop at Quick
Mart for a twenty-ounce coffee before heading home to meet my dad. It doesn’t
make sense to drive north only to go south, but there’s no way to get to
Maryland from the shore, and this way my dad can do the bulk of the driving.

On the road, I think of the
flowers. After analyzing the situation through multiple text messages to Gina
and Julie, I realized that Roberto sending me flowers was the best thing to
happen to me all summer.