The Devil Served Desire

by Shirley Jump

  Maria laughed. "If there's anything I run from, it's predictability."

  "That explains a lot."

  "What if"—she cut off another bite and ate it, "you gave your customers something unexpected, yet predictable at the same time?"

  He shook his head. "I’m not quite sure what you mean."

  "The best of both worlds. Right here in this kitchen. Your father and you, in one."

  "You mean ... change how things are done at Vita?"

  "Yes."

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  He sat straighter in his chair. "I haven't changed anything in here since my father died. I'm not going to start now."

  "Well, maybe you should." She leaned forward, the plate forgotten. Around them, the kitchen hummed with its daily activities, but in this corner, only Dante and Maria existed. "I think I'm not the only one who's afraid here."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You say you want a wife and kids. Yet you work so much, it's impossible to have that. You complain the hours at the restaurant are killing you, but you won't change anything to make it easier on yourself." She arched a brow at him. "What are you avoiding, Dante?"

  "Nothing."

  "Liar." She scooted her chair around the table until she sat on the same side as he. It felt good to be close to him again. Comfortable, like she'd known him for years. That feeling made her get a little more honest. "You were right about me. I don't have control over anything, as much as I'd like to think I do. You, however, control things too much. And it's making you miserable."

  "I do not." Dante paused, looked around the kitchen. Thought of all the jobs in the restaurant that he handled himself instead of letting someone else do it. All the stresses he put on his own shoulders. All the choices he'd made that didn't have to be his alone. "Okay, I do. It's easier that way, though."

  "Tradition is comfortable, isn't it? Yeah, I may be afraid of getting too comfortable but you are afraid of getting out of the comfort zone."

  He got to his feet, a tease in his eyes. "You think I'm afraid?"

  She rose, her gaze meeting his head-on. "Terrified."

  "Hey, I can change. Step out of that comfort zone, as you called it. I'll prove it to you." He looked around the kitchen and as he did, an African-American woman entered from the back door. "Rochelle! Just the person I want to see."

  "Me?" She narrowed her eyes, her jacket halfway to the hook. "Why? What'd I do?"

  "You've just become my new dining room manager. With a pay raise to go along with the title."

  "I... I..." She blinked at him. "I what?"

  "No one can get the waitresses' and the busboys' butts in gear like you can. Hell, they don't even listen to me. But you, you ride them like a rodeo cowboy, but they still like you at the end of the day. And I have to admit..." he took a breath, "you'll do a better job than me."

  Her mouth dropped open. She stared at him for a long time, before shutting her jaw again. "I don't know what to say."

  He laughed. "Now that's a first."

  "Okay, I do know what to say. Yes. And... thank you." Rochelle stepped forward and threw her arms around him, hugging Dante for a brief second before moving back and thrusting out her hand. "Guess I should start being professional now."

  "Be yourself. That's all I expect." He took one of her hands in both of his.

  "Hey, Boss. What about me?" Vinny called from across the kitchen.

  "You, Vin? You're the... head sous chef."

  "No way. Really? I was just sous chef yesterday. Now I'm the head. Man, wait till I tell Theresa. She's going to bust a gut."

  "Hopefully not before that baby is due."

  "Oh, yeah, true. I'll wait to tell her." Vinny jerked his chin in Dante's direction. "And Boss, thanks for the, ah, other day. She said yes."

  Dante grinned. "Good. You deserve happiness, Vinny."

  Vinny nodded furiously and swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "You gotta excuse me." He abandoned his pepper chopping and headed toward the rest room. A second later, they heard the sound of happy sobs coming from behind the door.

  "Well," Maria said. "I stand corrected. Maybe you can change." She pushed her empty plate to the side. "I have an idea."

  He grinned. "I always like your ideas."

  "But you have to trust me." She gestured toward the plate. "Make up a lot more of this and make it one of the specials tonight."

  "But—"

  "Don't but me. You did the impossible already. You got me to try the tortellini." She leaned forward and pressed a quick, hot kiss to his mouth. "Now listen to me on this. I'll be back later. I promise."

  "You promise?"

  She grinned. "Yeah. I have to come back. We have unfinished business, you and I."

  "I told you I'd pay that invoice."

  "Not that kind of business. We never finished our last chess game. If I remember right, I was winning."

  He cupped her chin in his hand. "I was less naked than you."

  Her fingers skipped along the soft cotton of his shirt, promising more than she could do in a busy kitchen. "Maybe. But I was the one with my hands on both your knights." She grinned, gave him another kiss, then turned on her heel. "I'm coming back for the king."

  After the shop closed for the day, Maria stopped at home to change and freshen up. While she was there, she stepped on her scale. She closed her eyes. After a few seconds, she peeked one eye open. The needle hadn't moved upward at all. In feet, it looked like it was nudging downward almost a half a pound from the weight she'd been three days ago.

  She stepped, off. Got back on. The needle did the same little downward dance.

  Maria ran through her food choices over the last couple of days. Working with Arnold, she'd put together a fairly livable diet. Except for the tortellini, she'd managed to stay on the light side of the menu today, too.

  The scale, apparently, agreed.

  Her plan could work. Maria got dressed, grabbed her coat and dashed out of the apartment, nearly running the few blocks over to the church for the Saturday night Chubby Chums meeting. Arnold saw her the minute she entered the basement meeting room.

  "Maria! How are you?" He pulled her into a hug. This time it felt like an embrace from a friend, not suffocation by human burrito. He stepped back and looked over her form. "You know, I think you're becoming a new animal."

  "I am?"

  He grinned. "Yep. You're not a chinchilla anymore. You're a mink." He gave her a nod. "Looking good."

  "Thanks."

  "I don't think you're looking so much like a teddy bear anymore either."

  He nodded, his race full of happiness. "I'm down five in two weeks."

  "Hey, that's great!"

  He flexed out an arm and thrust his chest forward. "I may end up with the body of a bobcat, but I'll always have the heart of a teddy bear."

  "I know you will, Arnold." She smiled and patted his chest. He'd held the Schwarzenegger pose too long and the breath whooshed out of him.

  Together, they went into the Chubby Chums meeting. The others—Audrey, Bert, Homer, Stephanie, and the rest of the regulars—each greeted her like an old friend. She wasn't an outsider anymore. She was part of the group.

  It didn't matter if she was fat thin, green or purple. The Chubby Chums accepted her regardless.

  Maria took her seat and realized she no longer envied Mary Louise. Why the hell had she been trying so hard to look like a woman she didn't even like, anyway?

  She liked who she was. Maria Pagliano was a hell of a nice woman. And looking like her wasn't bad at all.

  "So, everyone, what have you all learned since the last meeting?" Stephanie asked.

  Audrey's hand shot up. "That I really hate tofu. It was a breakthrough for me."

  "That's good, Audrey. Glad to hear it." Stephanie turned to the next person. "Bert?"

  "That Miller Lite has less calories than regular Miller. That was my freakin' breakthrough." He sat back against his chair, legs spreading in the way only a
man could take up room, and scratched at his chin.

  "Uh, great I think. Maria?"

  "That I don't have to diet."

  The group gasped.

  "You don't have to diet?"

  "Well, I have to watch what I eat, but I don't have to starve myself. I can have my favorite foods, just not binge on them." She grabbed Arnold's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Arnold has been there for me during a really rough time. Together, we worked out an eating plan that works for me. And lets me keep my favorite foods."

  "That's no way to lose weight," Bert said.

  "I can't eat the whole box of Twinkies, Bert. Or five cups of fettuccini Alfredo. But I can have a little and eat healthier. If I'm careful, I still come out ahead."

  Bert eyed her. "You ain't gonna look like no Cindy Crawford doing that."

  "I don't want to be Cindy Crawford. Or Mary Louise Zipparetto. Or anyone else but me." She smiled and realized as the words came out that they were true. "Do you know what I realized when I stepped on my scale this morning?"

  Audrey had her pencil at the ready, pad flipped to a clean sheet. "What?"

  "That I like me. No matter what size I am. And if I never lose another pound, I'll still be happy."

  "Oh, Maria," Arnold cried, "you're my teddy bear!" He wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

  Stephanie smiled. "That's the true definition of a Chubby Chum." She started to clap. "Bravo, Maria!"

  One by one, the others joined in with Stephanie, applauding Maria in the lime-green room.

  All but one.

  Bert crossed his arms, hands cemented in the region of his armpits. "How the hell does that help the rest of us? What kind of support group is this, anyway?"

  Stephanie pursed her lips. "Now, Bert, you know frowns are contagious."

  "I got something contagious for you." He got to his feet. "I'm heading over to that Italian place across the street. They got the all-you-can-eat-pasta special running again tonight." He jerked his chin in Maria's direction. "That's my new diet. All you can eat until you puke." He pointed toward Audrey. "You might want to write that down."

  "Uh ..." Her hand hovered over the pad.

  "The food at Vita is delicious," Maria said. "But the all-you-can-eat pasta special probably isn't the best choice."

  Bert gave her a nonplussed look. "You don't say?"

  "We're trying to have a support group meeting here, Bert," Stephanie said. "You're not being very supportive."

  He shrugged. "I'll support you if you decide to join me. Even hold the bowl while you dish up your spaghetti."

  "Me?" Stephanie put a hand to her chest. "Oh, no. I can't go. One bite and... Well, I just couldn't."

  "Me, too," Audrey said, shaking her head. "I have no self-control when it comes to starches."

  "I know the chef over at Vita," Maria said. "He has a lot of great salads on the menu. And he said he'd be glad to accommodate your diets with a few lower-calorie choices." It was a bit of a lie, but she knew she had to show Dante there was a ready and willing customer base before he'd change the menu.

  "He'd do that? For us?" Audrey asked.

  "Well, yeah. It's good for business. And good for our waistlines."

  "A good cook is not a friend for your looks," Stephanie pointed out.

  "This cook is a friend, believe me."

  "Oh, I don't know," Audrey said. She worried the end of her pencil between her teeth. "I never eat pasta anymore. And never, ever go into real restaurants. They tempt me like that snake with the apple."

  "Maria wouldn't steer us wrong," Arnold said. "She's a Chubby Chum. And remember what we always say, Chubby Chums keep us from feeling glum!"

  Stephanie got to her feet. "Well, group. We are a support group. I think we could handle a field trip, if we stick together. That way, if one of us strays too close to the four-cheese lasagna, we'll remember our Chubby Chum mantra."

  "A friend, we reckon, won't let a Chum take seconds," the group repeated en masse.

  They all got to their feet, charging out of the door and across the street with the frenzied zealousness of bargain-hunting brides at the annual Filene's Basement sale.

  Happy-Ending-For-All Chicken Florentine Lasagna

  1-1/2 tablespoons butter or margarine

  3 tablespoons flour

  2 12-ounce cans evaporated skim milk

  1/2 teaspoon salt

  1/8 teaspoon nutmeg

  16 ounces nonfat cottage cheese

  3/4 cup reduced fat shredded mozzarella cheese

  Cooking spray

  7 ounces whole wheat lasagna noodles, cooked and drained

  1-1/2 cups cooked chicken breast, shredded

  1 10-ounce package frozen chopped spinach, thawed and squeezed dry

  Salt and pepper

  2 tablespoons grated Parmigiano Reggiano (a little of the good stuff can go a long way)

  2 tablespoons fresh parsley

  Preheat oven to 375 degrees and get ready for a culinary masterpiece that's good for you—and good to eat. In a medium saucepan, melt the butter, then add the flour and cook thirty seconds. Gradually whisk in milk, salt and nutmeg. Cook until thickened, about three minutes. Voila! Low-calorie white sauce. Mix the cottage cheese and mozzarella in a separate bowl. Looking good already, isn't it? And best of all, it's only about ten grams of fat per serving.

  Long as you're realistic about portion control, that is.

  Spread 1/3 of the sauce over an 11 x 7-inch baking dish that has been coated with cooking spray to prevent a sticky mess. Arrange noodles across sauce, top with half the chicken and spinach, then sprinkle with salt and pepper. Protein, veggies, dairy—what more can you ask? Oh yes, a little fat. Just a little though—nothing too dangerous.

  Top with half the cheese mixture, then a little more sauce. Add another layer of meat, veggies, pasta, sauces, same as before. End with noodles, then spread remaining sauce over top.

  Cover with foil and bake for forty-five to fifty-five minutes. Long enough to write out a menu that involves plenty of Chum-friendly meals—and a new plan for your life that allows for a true "delicious life."

  Remove foil, sprinkle with grated Parmigiano and bake another five minutes. Serve with parsley garnish and a smile because you know this combines the best of all your worlds.

  A happy ending. Who knew you could find it on a plate?

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  When Maria walked in the door, trailed by a baker's dozen of the Chubby Chums, Franco took a step back, blinked, then blinked again. "Miss Maria! You bring friends! Lots of them."

  "I did, Franco. And we'd like a table for"—she ran a quick head count—"fourteen."

  "Right away!" He hurried into the dining room, grabbing the first busboy he saw and gesturing at him to get a table ready.

  Within seconds, Franco was back and scooping menus into his arms. "Follow me, please."

  The group filed behind him and took seats at the table. Maria at one end, Stephanie at the other. A moment later, Rochelle came up to their table. "I’ll take this one myself, Franco," she told him. "It's my last night waitressing and this table is special." She smiled at Maria, then turned to the group and introduced herself. "I can take your drink orders now and come back for the food orders."

  "Actually, if you all don't mind, I'll order for us." Maria looked at everyone else, most of whom nodded agreement.

  Bert snorted. "Just get me a Miller Lite and I'll be happy."

  "Rochelle, we'd like six orders of the lasagna special and of the antipasto. And bring us a couple big bowls of the house salad. We're going to try a buffet of some of Dante's lighter fare."

  "Lighter fare?" Rochelle's hand paused over the order pad. "Since when?"

  "Did you lie to us?" Bert asked. "Probably trying to get us all fat so she looks thin."

  "Bert, shut up." Audrey gave him a jab in the shoulder.

  Bert blinked in surprise. And stopped talking.

  "You go, Audrey!" Arnold beamed at her.

  She fl
exed her little arm. "Thanks. I'm feeling assertive today."

  "Is this the lasagna we had for lunch today?" Rochelle asked.

  "Yep."

  "Oh, that's amazing stuff. I've been telling Dante he should put it on the menu. Glad you convinced him." She wrote down what Maria had ordered, then took everyone's drink choices and headed into the kitchen.

  Franco bustled in from the opposite direction, leading a group of four more to the table beside them. "Your guests have arrived, Miss Maria," he said.

  "You made it!" Maria rose, crossing to hug and kiss Mamma, Papa, Nonna and Nonno.

  "Of course," her grandfather said. "The Paglianos, we like to eat." He smiled and embraced her back. "And, we like to see you, nipote."

  Rochelle had returned with a tray full of diet sodas and water glasses. She looked at Maria. "Let me guess. More lasagna specials?"

  Maria glanced at her parents and grandparents. "Is that okay with you?"

  Mamma nodded, exchanging a private look with her daughter. "We not so old we can't learn new things." She turned to Rochelle. "Four, per favore."

  "You got it." Rochelle grinned, took their drink orders, then practically ran back into the kitchen. Before the door finished swinging shut behind her, Dante exited from the opposite side.

  Maria's heart sang at the sight of him. Would it always be like this? Would she always feel this little skip of joy every time he came home?

  Every time he came home?

  That kind of thought implied permanence. Commitment.

  Marriage.

  Maria sat back in her chair and tasted the word in her mind. It didn't seem so scary anymore. The empty feeling in her stomach had disappeared.

  Could she have been filling that feeling with food instead of...

  Love?

  That would make Mamma and the Chubby Chums and everyone else right.

  Well, if that were so, Maria would never admit it. Not even if they tempted her with a heaping bowl of tortellini. With Twinkies on the side.