Taste (Cloverleigh Farms, #7)(43)

“I sure am.” Gianni moved his coffee mug and tapped his bird placemat. “You can put it right here on my nuthatch.”

I shook my head as Mae set down two enormous plates of food. Gianni would always be a ten-year-old boy at heart.

Our meals looked delectable, and we eagerly dug in. The last real meal either of us had eaten was nearly twenty-four hours earlier, and we were both ravenous. I wasn’t sure if that was the reason the food tasted so delicious, but it did. The eggs were fluffy and perfectly done, the bacon was thick but crispy, and the potatoes had the perfect amount of crunch to each bite. Gianni said his omelette was fantastic, and traded me some house-made breakfast sausage for a piece of bacon and a forkful of potatoes, which he stole off my plate.

“So you say do the show?” he asked thoughtfully.

“Yes. If it takes off—and I bet it will—you can probably write your own ticket after that. Maybe the network would give you that travel show you want.”

“Maybe,” he said. “The main reason I don’t want to do the show is that it involves zero cooking.” He ate another bite of his omelette. “What if I’m bored?”

“Think of it as a stepping stone. You said yourself, the money is great. After it’s over, you can invest in a passion project.”

“That’s what my dad said.” Gianni smiled. “You two think alike.”

My face grew hot. “Hey. You said that secret would stay at the Pineview Motel.”

“I did, that’s right.” He pushed some food around on his plate. “How about I trade you a secret in return?”

I raised my eyebrows and swallowed the bite in my mouth. “Okay.”

He kept his eyes on his fork. “My mom had breast cancer last year.”

I gasped and sat up straight, setting my fork down with a loud clank. “What? Gianni! How did I not know that?”

“She didn’t want anyone to know about it.”

“Well—is she okay?”

He nodded. “She’s okay now. It was non-invasive and she had a lumpectomy and six weeks of radiation. She’s considered in remission now, because her last scan showed no sign of cancer.”

“I can’t believe it.” I wiped my hands on my napkin. “Does my mom know?”

“Yes. Your parents were the only people to know outside my immediate family.”

“They never said anything!”

“She didn’t tell them right away. I think she was worried your mom would cancel the plans to go to France. She didn’t want to be the reason they didn’t go.”

“But you can’t go through something like that alone. You need friends around you!”

“She had my dad. He cut his work hours way down to be with her more, and that’s why I took over at Trattoria Lupo last summer. Actually, that’s why I came home in the first place.”

I nodded slowly. Now it made sense. “I didn’t know that.”

“I never told anyone.” Gianni picked up his fork and started eating again. “After she finished radiation, my dad was able to go back to work. He told me I didn’t have to stick around, but I was glad when the offer from your parents came in to open Etoile. Not only because I liked the concept and the setting, but because it gave me a reason to be around home a little longer . . . just in case.”

“But everything is okay now?” I asked with concern. I kept picturing Coco, Gianni’s mom, with her beautiful blue eyes and wide smile and easy laugh. She’d always been so easygoing and spontaneous, to the point where I often wondered how she and my mother were such good friends.

“Everything is okay now,” he said.

I exhaled in relief, putting a hand over my heart. “Poor Aunt Coco. I wish I’d have known.”

“Honestly, I wanted to tell you a bunch of times. But I had to respect my mom’s wishes.”

It struck me how devoted Gianni was as a son, and I admired him for it. “That had to be tough for you—not saying anything. Were you scared?”

“Yeah. My family is everything to me.” His tone was fierce and sweet at the same time, and my heart cracked open a little more.





We got back to our room just after noon, stuffed and sleepy. “I’m too tired for snow angels,” Gianni said, falling face first onto our bed.

“Same.” I sat on my side and pulled out my phone. I had texts from Des and Winnie telling me not to worry about anything and asking me to call them when I could, and I had a voice message from my mom.

“Hi honey, just calling to check on you and see how everything went last night with the tasting. Looks like the weather is awful at home. Call me when you can. Love you.”

I knew I should call her back, but I didn’t feel like rehashing the evening just yet. Instead I texted: Everything went fine, Gianni and I ended up not driving all the way home because of the snow, but we’re safe at a motel and heading back as soon as the roads are plowed. I decided not to say anything about car trouble, so she wouldn’t worry more.

Then I called Des, and he picked up right away, letting me know he’d made it into Abelard on his snowmobile and would handle tastings all day for guests who were stranded. “It’s actually great for the winery,” he joked. “What else is there to do here today but taste wine and then buy what you like so you can drink more of it while you wait out the blizzard?”