Lost in Rome Read online

  I jumped in between them. “Wait!”

  Lorenzo tried to calm his grandfather, while Rico subdued Salvatore.

  “I have an idea,” I said.

  “Thank goodness,” Rico sighed.

  “I can’t wait to hear this,” Lorenzo said.

  “By the way,” I said to Lorenzo, “I am so sorry about the itching thing.”

  “That’s okay,” he said. “It’s not like you had anything to do with—”

  I stared at the floor.

  “You? You did that? Why? I was nice to you and Gianna. I liked her. I still like her.”

  “I thought you had done it—the sauce, the notes.”

  I expected him to yell and get angry. Instead he combed his fingers through his hair. “No. It wasn’t me.”

  His calmness made me feel worse, if that was even possible.

  This story needed a much happier ending.

  30

  I banged the broom on the ceiling. Jane came in with a big board covered with fabric.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “It’s a pin board. I’m going to make crisscrosses with ribbon. Then I’ll slide pictures or memorabilia under the ribbons and make like a collage type of thing,” she said. “Do you like it?”

  “I do.” This gave me another idea. They were coming faster than I could handle now.

  “Guys, we need to have a little meeting.”

  I set myself at the head of a table for six. My sister and friends sat around me. Rico and I related the story about Aunt Maria and Grandfather Mossimo.

  “What are we gonna do?” AJ asked.

  “What we’re good at,” Gianna said. “Everyone is going to do what they’re good at.”

  “I resisted my special skill because someone”—I eyed Gianna—“told me it was weird. But I’m matchmaking regardless of what people think.”

  “Obviously Maria is awesome at pizza,” AJ said.

  “Totes,” I agreed. “Grandfather Mossimo—not so much. But he’s got other skills he’s not even using.” To AJ I said, “And so do you.” I looked at Rico. His expression said he wanted to hear what he was good at. “You have friends who owe you favors. We’re gonna need them.” To Jane I said, “I need a special dress made. Oh, and I’m gonna need that pin board thingy too.”

  “What about me?” Gianna asked.

  “We’re gonna need signs and flyers made,” I said.

  “I’m on it.”

  I laid out the details of my plan.

  31

  The next day we mobilized the plan we’d created last night. I was on Aunt Maria duty.

  “You know, Rico told me the story of Beatrice and Dante,” I said as she and I made cannoli filling.

  “Yes. You like?”

  “I think the ending is sad. And I’ve been wondering, what do you think would’ve happened if they’d met again? You know, later, when they were older?”

  “I think maybe a love like theirs would not have died. Some love is like that.”

  I asked, “Do you know a love like that?”

  She pinched the dough together and didn’t answer right away. “Sì. I have, but that was a very long time ago.”

  “What if you had a second chance at it?” I asked.

  Aunt Maria gave me a curious look. Before she could respond, AJ stuck his bandannaed head through the opening between the dining room and kitchen. “Match needed at twelve o’clock.”

  I looked straight ahead—at the twelve o’clock position. No one was there. AJ didn’t know what these positions meant. But it was cute that he tried. “Who?” I asked.

  “The girls at table six.”

  Table six was not at the twelve o’clock position.

  He’d sat the four girls who were in the other day. I remembered the girl with the mouth full of elaborate orthodontics. I thought her name was Riley, and I thought she was the one who was all about bacon. Her hair was pulled back in braids that were as pretty as the ones Gianna could make.

  “Sorry,” I said to Aunt Maria. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Sì. You do the matching.”

  I approached the girls. “Hi there. Welcome back. So, how did the matches work out last time?”

  The leader girl said, “I’ve been out with Evan three times. Your little pizza voodoo worked for me.”

  Another girl said, “I’m going out on a date with Ashton tonight.”

  “That’s great,” I said.

  “But we’re here to find a match for Riley,” the leader said.

  “Double bacon, right?”

  She smiled. She was a very pretty girl.

  “You’re a tough one, because bacon is so unusual. I’ll be back. Let me think for a minute.” I strolled from table to table with a pitcher of water, refilling glasses and hoping I’d get a feeling from someone, but nothing stirred my gut.

  That is, until I returned the pitcher back behind the counter to discuss the situation with AJ, who had made himself a big ol’ slice of anchovy pizza.

  Double bacon and anchovies?

  I guess it made sense.

  Maybe I hadn’t seen it initially because I thought I like liked AJ myself.

  What does a matchmaker do in a situation like this?

  Anchovies didn’t go with ham and pineapple.

  I knew this.

  My gut knew this.

  Maybe I just liked him, not like liked him.

  I said to him, “They asked for bread. And the girl with the braids wanted an Aranciata. Can you bring those over to them?”

  He folded the last quarter of his pizza into his mouth and, without swallowing, said, “Roger that.”

  I watched. They talked. Riley laughed at something AJ said. I took a cherry from a bowl in the kitchen and ate it, except for the pit, which I blew through a straw and shot at the leader girl.

  Bing!

  Hit her right in the forehead. She looked at me, and I waved for her to come over.

  “What the heck?” she asked, annoyed.

  “I need help right away with—with—with—the chocolate mousse pie. I can give you a free slice.”

  Her expression brightened. “I love chocolate.”

  Who doesn’t?

  “It’s going to melt if it doesn’t get eaten, like, right this second.” I ran to the kitchen and got a half-eaten pie out of the refrigerator and put it on the counter with three forks. “Look at that,” I said. “I only have three forks. Which of your friends do you think would want to help?”

  Vito pushed a little bell, signaling an order was ready for pickup.

  “That’s probably Riley’s double bacon. I’ll bring it to her. Bacon probably doesn’t mix well with chocolate mousse pie. Am I right, or am I right?”

  “I think you’re right. I’ll get the other girls,” she said.

  “Wait a sec,” I said. I snatched the bacon pizza. “Would you give this to Riley? And this to AJ.” I handed her an orange soda. “I have to get a lasagna out of the oven before it burns, if you know what I mean.”

  “Sure thing.”

  As I’d hoped, the three girls left Riley alone at the table and sat at the counter around the chocolate pie.

  With three empty chairs now at the table, AJ sat. He started showing Riley pictures on his phone. The two of them didn’t stop talking, and Riley laughed at pretty much everything AJ said.

  It looked like another successful match! I was happy for AJ.

  To the three girls devouring the chocolate mousse pie, I said, “I found another fork after all.” I dug into the pie with them.

  One of the girls pointed to the basket of letters for “Beatrice.” “Can we look at those?”

  “I guess so.” I brought the basket over and took the empty cake plate away.

  They unfolded them and read them to each other. “Can I tweet some of these?”

  I said, “I guess that would be okay.”

  She took pictures of the notes and, with a click, sent them out into social cyberspace. A minute
later her phone dinged—dinged—dinged.

  “I’m getting tons of comments about these,” she said. “You should start your own Instagram page with these. People love it.”

  It was a great idea.

  “I’ll tell you what,” I said. “If you can do that for me, I’ll hook you up with endless chocolate mousse pie for the next few days—for as long as I’m in Rome.”

  “Deal!” the girls squealed.

  The three of them snapped pictures of the letters.

  Then Lorenzo and Gianna came in through the front door. I looked back into the kitchen to see if Aunt Maria was watching. She still didn’t like Lorenzo. Her back was turned as she shaped cannoli shells. “What’s up, guys?” I asked.

  Gianna said, “I came in to tell you that I’m taking the night off.”

  “Um—” I started, but she didn’t wait for a response. They left holding hands as they walked down the cobblestone alley.

  32

  A few nights later, all the prep work for my plan had been completed. There was only one piece missing. I had my biggest—and most important—matchmaking challenge ahead of me.

  “Aunt Maria,” I said, “we’re going out.”

  “Okay, Lucy. Have fun.”

  “No. You’re coming too.”

  “Oh, no. I can’t go out with you kids. You’ll do all the games.” She wiggled her fingers like she was holding a video-game controller. “And the computers.” She pantomimed a typing motion.

  “Uh, kids usually don’t work on computers when they go out,” I said. “We’re going to sing, dance, and play bocce!”

  Aunt Maria clapped. “I love the bocce. I used to play a lot.”

  “I’ll do your hair,” Gianna said.

  “Why? Is the place fancy?” Aunt Maria asked.

  “No, we just thought it would be fun to dress up. And celebrate!” I said.

  “What should I wear?” Aunt Maria asked.

  Jane replied, “I have an idea.”

  On cue, Rico held up a flowery red dress.

  “It’s perfect,” Gianna said.

  “It will look great on you,” AJ added.

  “It is very bellissima,” Aunt Maria said. “How can I say no?”

  “You can’t,” I said. “Get ready.”

  We all walked together into the piazza, which looked different now. The colorful sign for Pizzeria de Roma had been replaced with a DANZA ITALIANO sign.

  “What is this?”

  “Surprise! It’s not a pizzeria anymore,” I said.

  AJ explained, “They have dancing and singing and indoor bocce.”

  We went inside and saw Lorenzo standing at the podium. “Your table is waiting for you,” he said.

  We followed Lorenzo to a large round table close to the stage. The lights had been dimmed, the music turned up. AJ didn’t even sit down. He walked to the stage and pressed a few buttons on a big piece of stereo equipment—which I guess was kind of video gamey and computerish—and a second later the beat of a popular dance song came on.

  Then AJ started singing. That’s what he was good at.

  Okay, so I’ll tell you about his karaoke. It wasn’t terrible, but he was far from good. It didn’t seem to matter, because people of all ages jumped to the dance floor. Even Aunt Maria left her Aranciata on the table and danced. That is, before she froze.

  She looked like she’d seen a ghost.

  “Mamma mia!” she said. “Is that you?”

  “Yes,” Mossimo said.

  She walked up to him, and they hugged. A tear rolled down Aunt Maria’s cheek.

  Mossimo wiped it off. “I’ve thought about seeing you again for a very long time,” he said. “You look exactly the same.”

  “Um,” I said to Rico. “How about a game of bocce?” I had never actually played the game, but I wanted to give Aunt Maria some privacy. Rico and I challenged AJ and his new “friend” Riley.

  Mossimo led Aunt Maria to a small table in the back corner. I spied as they looked into each other’s eyes and talked.

  I hadn’t been a matchmaker for very long, but if this was what it felt like, I wanted to do it forever. I was so happy to have helped them find each other again—and write the perfect ending to their story.

  33

  Pizzeria de Roma’s transformation to a singing, dancing bocce club was a huge success. All the pizza lovers in the piazza now came to Amore to eat, then went to Danza Italiano to have fun. AJ’s new friend Riley and her three social-media-maven girlfriends maintained our website and also got jobs at the pizzeria for the rest of the summer. Rico and his friends had set up tables and chairs outside so we could offer dining alfresco.

  The first order I took a few nights later was from Murielle duPluie and Angelo.

  “Bonjour,” she said.

  “Hi!” I was excited to see her.

  “I am going to do the follow-up article we talked about,” she said. “And have dinner with mon amour at the same time.”

  “Great.” To Angelo I said, “Nice to see you again.”

  “The place looks different,” said Angelo in perfect English. “I love the outside seating and new menu.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I just adore the walls,” Murielle duPluie said. “The exposed brick is très jolie.” The paint had been scraped from the rest of the bricks and the walls really did look great.

  I took their order and was about to leave when Carina, the lady selling flowers who I’d met on the Spanish Steps, walked by with her basket. “Flower for the lady?” she asked Angelo.

  “Of course,” Angelo said. “I’ll take two.” He gave one of them to me and the other to Murielle duPluie.

  “Grazie,” I said, and walked away with Carina. I asked her, “I’m just wondering, what did Aunt Maria do for you that you would do anything for her?”

  “She introduced me to my husband.” She smiled and offered roses to two more customers.

  Ha. Even when Aunt Maria had stopped officially matchmaking and was “no messing with the love,” she’d still managed to create some very happy couples on the sly.

  AJ called to me from the kitchen, “You have a phone call at twelve o’clock.”

  I looked straight ahead.

  The only thing there was the men’s room.

  “No. Sorry. I meant right here.” He held up the phone.

  Who would be calling me at Amore Pizzeria?

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Hi, honey.”

  “Hi, Dad. I’m kinda busy right now.”

  “I know. I just wanted to tell you that Mom and I are reading all these letters on the website and looking at the pictures of Amore Pizzeria. It’s just incredible.”

  “Thanks. There’s actually a lot more I can tell you. Like Aunt Maria reconnecting with her Dante, whose name is Mossimo, and the menu and the dance club, but I’ve got a lot of hungry people here who need me to match them.”

  There was a long pause. Finally Dad said, “Okay, honey. I didn’t understand all that, but I wanted to tell you how proud we are of you.”

  “Thanks, Dad. Bye—”

  “Lucy! Wait.”

  “What?”

  “I was wondering if you ever met Enrique. He used to hang around the shop.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “A boy you were friends with last time we went to Italy. You were in, like, first grade then.”

  “I don’t remember any boy.”

  “Sure you do,” my dad said. “He’s in your stories. You call him something different every time, but I recognize him.”

  I knew the character Dad was talking about, but I didn’t know anyone named Enrique.

  “No, Dad, I haven’t seen him.”

  “Too bad. You were pals back then,” he said. “I’ll see you at the airport tomorrow night, honey.”

  I hung up.

  I finished the dinner crowd, wondering if I had a Dante of my own and didn’t even realize it.

  How would I find him in a huge foreign
city like Rome?

  Vito tapped my shoulder and pointed to several take-out tins of food filled with pizzas and spaghetti Parmesan sandwiches. He chattered something in Italian. I understood that he wanted me to deliver that stuff to Rico, who was in charge of the Amore Pizzeria mobile cart, which sold food in the piazza. It had a huge Amore Pizzeria sign and an arrow pointing down the alley.

  I took the warm tins toward Rico. On my way I passed the Fontana del Cuore. I set the tins on the ground, reached into my pocket, found a coin, and tossed it in. I closed my eyes and thought—Enrique.

  When I opened my eyes, Enrique hadn’t miraculously appeared, so I took the tins to the cart, which was manned by Rico and one of his buddies.

  “Who’s hungry?” I asked.

  “Actually,” he said, “I’m starving. Do you want to take a break and chow with me?”

  I untied my apron. “Yup. I absolutely would.”

  He asked, “What can I get for you?”

  “Spaghetti Parmesan sandwich,” I said. “I hear they’re fabulous.”

  “If there was a zombie apocalypse and all we had were spaghetti Parm sandwiches, we would never have to worry about zombies wanting to eat brains. They would be totally satisfied with these.” He handed me a warm sandwich wrapped in foil.

  Had he seriously just referenced a zombie apocalypse?

  “What are you going to have?” I asked him.

  “Duh. My favorite. I haven’t been able to get it anywhere. Until now, that is. You added it to the new menu.” He held out a plate of ham-and-pineapple pizza. “The Los Angeles.”

  Did you get the part where I said Rico’s favorite pizza was ham and pineapple?

  That’s my favorite too, and best matched with another ham and pineapple, generally speaking. Of course, it isn’t an exact science. I use my gut, too. And right now my gut was tangled like linguine al dente being dumped into a colander.

  “When my parents decided to move back here from the US, I was homesick for my American friends. Then I met an American girl here on vacation. She introduced me to it, and ever since then it’s been my numero uno favorite.”

  “As a kid? An American?”

  “Yeah. She was on vacation here in Rome and I met her. We hung out for a week and then she was gone. I never saw her again.” He bit into the pie. “But she left me with ham and pineapple.”