Teresa was stunning as always, but today her beauty radiated even more. She wore a long-sleeved, white lace dress that accentuated her svelte figure and came just past her knees. The dress’s neckline was scalloped, revealing her delicate collarbone. Just before the ceremony started, Rosalia had helped her with her hair. Teresa wanted it to be coiled into a bun of several thin braids.
“My hair looks so pretty, Rosalia! I wish I didn’t have to cover it with this veil,” Teresa had exclaimed after seeing her hairstyle. She held a short mantilla veil with a lace trim, looking at it with disdain.
“It’s just for the ceremony. You know we have to keep our heads covered in church.” Rosalia had bought a simple black veil when she had gone into town with Antonio on their last day off. Since she and the other laywomen who resided at the convent always attended Mass at the convent’s chapel, there wasn’t any need for a veil. But if she ever wanted to attend Mass in church, she would have to wear one. So at least she hadn’t been spending money on something she would only wear once.
Something flashed before Rosalia’s eyes, shaking her out of her reverie. Teresa was waving her small bouquet of white daisies rather impatiently in Rosalia’s direction.
She took the bouquet and silently mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
Francesco turned toward Antonio, who held out two gleaming gold wedding bands. Francesco went first, taking Teresa’s ring and placing it halfway down her finger. He repeated the priest’s words and then fully slipped the ring on. Teresa smiled, glancing down at her ring with admiration. The priest took Francesco’s ring, handing it to Teresa as she repeated her vows after the priest. After she slipped Francesco’s ring all the way down his finger, the priest took their hands and joined them together, saying a prayer of blessing and announcing their union. Teresa and Francesco both looked at the priest, waiting for his nod of approval before they kissed. And in true Teresa fashion, she kissed Francesco for a few seconds, causing the priest to blush before he coughed loudly.
Rosalia looked at Antonio, wanting to share her amusement with him. But Antonio seemed oblivious to Teresa and Francesco’s long kiss. He stared intently at Rosalia. This time, she didn’t pull her gaze away. Instead, she imagined for a moment it was them standing before the priest taking their wedding vows. An image of Rosalia’s mother’s wedding dress came to her mind. Tiers of lace wrapped around a voluminous ball-gown skirt that held a hoop beneath it, causing the dress to billow dramatically out to the front. Mamma’s hair was pulled up into a gorgeous bun. A veil made of Alençon lace, which had been a gift to Mamma from Papà, hung down to her elbows. Since Rosalia was a little girl, she had known she would wear her mother’s dress when she got married some day. Perhaps she still could—if she found her family. She did not have to abandon all hope of that dream’s coming true.
The wedding ceremony was over, and Rosalia and Antonio followed Teresa and Francesco out of the church. No one else was in attendance, and Rosalia couldn’t help noting how sad it was having only herself, Antonio, and the priest witness such a momentous event in the newlyweds’ lives. But that was how they had wanted it, and they didn’t look like they held any regrets. They laughed as they rushed down the aisle and out into the street. As usual, they were so wrapped up in themselves that they hadn’t even waited for Rosalia and Antonio. Teresa and Francesco picked up where they had left off at the altar, and resumed their kissing.
“Let’s give them some privacy for a few minutes. They’ll come look for us.” Antonio pulled Rosalia’s arm, leading her to the side of the church building.
“Are you sure they’ll come looking for us? They probably forgot we even exist.” Rosalia laughed.
“True.” Antonio winked at Rosalia. He then took her hand in his.
“It was a nice ceremony,” Rosalia said, not voicing her thoughts from a moment ago.
“I suppose. It did seem a little sad that we were the only people to witness it.”
“I was thinking that as well, but the ceremony itself was nice, and they look happy.”
“They do.”
“I can’t stop thinking about what Elisabetta’s reaction will be when she finds out her sister has eloped. Actually, everyone at the convent will be surprised.”
“I know. I hope I am around tomorrow when everyone discovers she is gone.”
Rosalia elbowed Antonio. “You’re terrible!”
Antonio laughed. “It will be fun. I’m sure you will enjoy it, too! The best will be seeing Sorella Domenica’s face. I’m sure she will feel vindicated in some way and will have to say something about knowing Teresa was up to no good.”
“She thinks the worst of everyone.”
“Rosalia! Antonio! Where are you? Have you decided to get married next? Ah, there you are!” Teresa made her way toward Rosalia and Antonio.
“Shhh!” Rosalia scolded her as her cheeks quickly burned hot. Once again, Teresa had managed to embarrass her. Rosalia stole a sideways glance at Antonio, who was smiling slyly.
“What do you say, Rosalia? Should we make it a double wedding?”
Rosalia’s eyes widened.
“I’m only teasing you. Come on!” Antonio laughed, but Rosalia couldn’t help noting that his laugh didn’t reach his eyes.
They walked to a trattoria near the church, where they had their midday meal and celebrated.
“To the happy newlyweds. Salute!” Antonio held up his glass of wine as he toasted Teresa and Francesco.
“Grazie! You both have become such dear friends to us. We must continue to see each other even though Teresa and I will be living in Messina,” Francesco said.
“As long as you don’t mind coming here. I don’t know how welcome I’ll be at the convent after today.” Teresa’s eyes looked sad.
“That’s nonsense! I’m sure Madre Carmela would welcome you,” Rosalia offered.
“She would, but I don’t know about a few of the other nuns and . . .”
“Elisabetta will come to understand. You’re sisters, after all, and have only each other left in your family. Just give her some time.”
“Maybe you’re right, Rosalia.”
“Enough! Today is a happy day. Waiter! Another carafe of wine, please! On second thought, make that two!” Francesco called out.
They laughed and celebrated for the rest of the meal. Francesco became a bit drunk and began singing, even getting down on his knees to serenade his new wife. The restaurant’s other patrons applauded him.
Though Teresa laughed, Rosalia heard her whisper to Francesco, “Enough!”
After the dishes had been cleared from the table, Antonio looked at Rosalia and silently mouthed the word “now.”
“Excuse us for a moment. We’ll be right back,” he said.
“Ah! They need some time alone! Go, go, my friend.” Francesco patted Antonio’s back as he walked by.
When they were out of earshot, Antonio whispered, “If he keeps drinking, I’m afraid their wedding night won’t be memorable at all.”
Though Rosalia was surprised by Antonio’s frank comment, she couldn’t help giggling softly.
They entered the trattoria’s kitchen. Antonio spotted the owner, Signora DelAbate, who was coating the sides of a Trionfo di Gola cake with chopped pistachios. Trionfo di Gola, or Triumph of Gluttony, was a very old cake recipe passed down from nuns over the centuries. The batter was divided among three different-sized round cake pans. After the individual cakes were baked, filling was spread on top of each layer, and then they were stacked one on top of the other. Once the cake was assembled, it was then frosted with marzipan paste, and the finishing touch was the coating of the chopped pistachios around the cake. The cake’s tall, pyramid shape gave it a unique, impressive appearance. Rosalia had wanted to make a cake that was more elaborate than a typical wedding cake.
“Signora, it looks beautiful!” Antonio exclaimed.
“I am almost done with it. You know you could have asked me to make the cake. We make some of the finest cakes in
Messina even though we are a simple trattoria.”
“I’m sure you do, but as I explained earlier, this is our gift to our friends.”
“You both made this cake?” Signora DelAbate looked up, surprised. “I thought it was just your wife who made it. A man who bakes. Very nice. Bravo!” She nodded approvingly before returning to her work.
Antonio opened his mouth to correct Signora DelAbate, but Rosalia placed her hand on his. It was all right that the trattoria owner had mistaken them for a married couple. It was a natural assumption. Also, Rosalia had been the one to actually make the cake, but she and Antonio had collaborated on the recipe, especially since it was their first time making Trionfo di Gola.
“All done. Ah! Wait!” Signora DelAbate grabbed her cane, which was propped against the worktable, and hobbled over to a vase of large blood-red tulips. She snipped two of the tulips from their stems with a pair of kitchen shears and hobbled back to the table. She placed the flowers side by side in the center of the cake.
“One for the groom and one for the bride!” She laughed, pleased with herself.
“It’s gorgeous, signora. Grazie!” Rosalia admired the cake.
She couldn’t wait to see Teresa’s and Francesco’s reactions. Rosalia and Antonio had agreed not to decorate the cake themselves out of fear that it would get ruined when Antonio transported it to the trattoria. They had traveled to Messina an hour before they were supposed to meet Teresa and Francesco at the church. It had been difficult to convince them they didn’t need a ride to Messina, and Antonio had told a small lie and said he needed to meet with one of Madre’s suppliers in Messina. Besides, he told them if they left together it might arouse suspicion, although they’d gone out on other occasions. But Teresa and Francesco were so anxious to tie the knot and not be discovered by Elisabetta that they had heartily agreed it was for the better if they didn’t leave the convent together. Antonio had borrowed his friend’s car, and he and Rosalia had snuck the cake out of the convent’s kitchen. Rosalia had made the cake secretly the day before in the kitchen. The other workers in the convent were too busy to notice anything out of the ordinary. Once the cake was baked, Antonio had placed it all the way in the back of the refrigerator that was used for their meals and not for the pastries the convent made. And when it was time to take the cake to the car, Rosalia had found an empty potato sack to cover it with. God had been on their side, since no one had seemed to notice them as they carried this odd-looking platter covered in burlap outside.
“Would you like me to carry it out?” Signora DelAbate asked.
Rosalia shook her head. “No. Grazie. We would like to do it since we are presenting it as a gift to the newlyweds.”
“Va bene.” Signora DelAbate motioned with her hands for them to take the cake platter.
Antonio carefully picked up the cake with both of his hands.
“This is heavy. Did you put rocks in this, Rosalia?”
Rosalia narrowed her eyes at him. “Funny!”
She followed Antonio out of the kitchen. She began to feel nervous.
“I hope the cake came out good. Can you imagine if it tastes horrible, and they’ll always remember their wedding cake as being this terrible cake Rosalia made?”
“When have you made anything that tasted bad, Rosalia?” Antonio said without turning his head.
She couldn’t help noting he seemed nervous, too, as if afraid he would drop their treasure.
When they reached their table, Antonio and Rosalia shouted, “Surprise!”
“Is that for us?” Teresa looked at Rosalia, who nodded.
“It’s beautiful! Isn’t it, Francesco?”
“Si! What a gorgeous cake!”
“We made it. Well, Rosalia made it, but I consulted with her on the recipe. But it’s truly Rosalia’s creation. And it’s not just any cake. It’s a Trionfo di Gola. A special cake for your special occasion.” Antonio was beaming with pride.
“Antonio was very much a part of it. It was his idea to make you a wedding cake as our gift to you. I hope you like it. Oh, and we have Signora DelAbate to thank for decorating it. We were afraid to decorate it back at the convent and have the frosting get ruined while we transported it here. I’m sure if we had, most of the pistachios would’ve fallen off!” Rosalia laughed.
She then gestured toward Signora DelAbate, who waved and shouted, “Buona fortuna!”
Teresa waved back. “Grazie, signora! Grazie, Rosalia and Antonio. Wait! This was the reason why you came to Messina earlier and not with us? You weren’t meeting with one of Madre Carmela’s suppliers, were you, Antonio?”
“Guilty as charged! All those lies I can fully take credit for!” Antonio bowed.
“Enough talk! Let’s cut into the cake!” Francesco shouted.
Signora DelAbate ran over with a large cake knife. “You must cut it together for good luck.”
“Ah! Good luck! Who believes in that nonsense anymore!” Francesco barked, eliciting a glare from Teresa.
“I do! This is my wedding, and we must follow tradition, including doing everything that can ensure only good luck in our marriage.” Teresa took the cake knife from Signora DelAbate and nudged Francesco with her elbow.
Francesco placed his hand over Teresa’s as they cut the first cake slice.
Everyone in the restaurant was standing up and cheering the newlyweds. Rosalia was glad she had decided to make a large cake. She would offer a slice to all the patrons. Originally, she had wanted to make a large cake even though it would just be the four of them celebrating the wedding because she thought it would look nicer than a small cake. And it was, after all, Teresa’s wedding. Now, Rosalia was glad that everyone in the restaurant was taking part in the celebration. Though they were strangers, it made the occasion seem more festive than just having four people at a wedding party.
Teresa broke off a piece of cake with her fork and fed it to Francesco, who paused for a moment. Rosalia held her breath. Oh no! she thought. Had she forgotten to add the rum? Or maybe she hadn’t measured the sugar properly?
But then Francesco exclaimed, “Dio mio! This is the best cake I’ve ever had!”
Relief washed over Rosalia as Francesco then fed Teresa her first bite of cake. Teresa had the same reaction as Francesco. She paused and seemed to be slowly chewing the cake as if she was savoring it for as long as she could.
“Rosalia, this has to be the best dessert you’ve created at the pastry shop.”
“Grazie, Teresa. I’m just happy you both like it.”
Rosalia and Antonio took over cutting the rest of the cake and serving it to the restaurant’s patrons, many of whom came up to Rosalia afterward and told her the cake was amazing. She couldn’t help feeling like she was taking some of the attention away from the bride, but Teresa didn’t seem to mind. She was too busy stealing kisses from her husband.
An hour later, Rosalia and Antonio took their leave. Teresa and Francesco were going to spend the night at a room they had rented in a small hotel. Then in the morning, they would make their way to Milazzo, where they would take a ferry to the Aeolian island of Lipari for a short honeymoon.
Rosalia and Antonio were quiet, basking in their success at surprising Teresa and Francesco with the wedding cake and how good it had turned out. Rosalia suddenly noticed they were by the marina in Messina. Antonio pulled to the side of the road and parked the car.
“What are you doing?”
“Let’s sit here for a little while. It’s such a beautiful night, and it would be nice to relax by the marina. There’s no need for us to rush back home. No one will be waiting for us.”
“All right.” Rosalia stepped out of the car, taking her shawl with her. The temperature had cooled a bit, and there was a light breeze coming off the water.
They walked hand in hand until they were close to the wall that overlooked the water. Rosalia stared at the sky as twilight unfolded. She felt comforted whenever day gave way to dark. Something about the night soothed her.
“You’re cold.” Antonio wrapped his arms around her.
They stood silently wrapped in each other’s embrace.
“Ti amo molto, Rosalia.”
Tears sprang to Rosalia’s eyes. Though it was not the first time Antonio had professed his love to her, for some reason, hearing the words tonight moved her more. Without thinking, she whispered back, “Ti amo, anch’io. I love you, too.”
Antonio pulled slightly away from Rosalia. Surprise and joy were etched across his features. He was about to say something, but instead he kissed her. Softly, at first, then ravenously. Every so often, he would pull his lips away just long enough to whisper again and again, “Ti amo.”
When they stopped kissing, Antonio led Rosalia to a bench. A few other couples were walking by the marina, while others sat on benches, locked in kisses. Antonio and Rosalia sat down on the bench, and Rosalia rested her head on Antonio’s shoulder.
“I feel safe with you, Antonio.”
“And you should. You’ve made me so happy, Rosalia. Just hearing you feel the same way has made me the happiest person in the world—even happier than Francesco or Teresa.”
Rosalia laughed. “I’m glad you’re happy, Antonio. You deserve it. You are such a kind, good man. And you have been wonderful to me.”
“It’s because I love you.”
“I know. I have no doubt of that.” Rosalia squeezed Antonio’s hand. He wrapped his fingers around hers.
“Rosalia, today has been special. Watching our friends commit to each other and seeing their happiness. I don’t want to waste any more time. So I’m going to take a chance.”
Antonio dropped down to his right knee. Rosalia’s eyes widened. It couldn’t be what she was thinking.
“Will you marry me, Rosalia? I will be devoted to you every day of our lives together. I will do whatever it takes to ensure your happiness.”
Once again, tears filled Rosalia’s eyes. Hearing Antonio say how devoted he would be to her brought an overwhelming wave of emotions. The tears quickly slid down her face. Antonio’s expression of hope quickly changed to concern. But she placed her hand on the side of his face and whispered through her tears, “I would be honored to marry you, Antonio. I’m crying because you love me. I can see how much you love me. And I do trust you completely with my heart now.”
Rosalia's Bittersweet Pastry Shop Page 25
