Chapter 2 - THE PROMISE BEHIND THE GREEN DISH
THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE ORDERED ME TO HIDE HIS LATE MOTHER'S FAVORITE CASSEROLE DISH BEFORE THE ENGAGEMENT TOAST—THEN SAID, “HIS SISTER ISN'T FAMILY HERE ANYMORE!” BUT WHEN LUCA RECOGNIZED THE CHIPPED GREEN DISH IN MY HANDS, HE PUT DOWN HIS GLASS. “WHY DID YOU TELL ANNA SHE WASN'T INVITED?”
“Put that dish back in the kitchen, Rachel.”
Vanessa Bellini stood beside the dining table in her fitted red silk gown.
Twenty-eight guests were celebrating her engagement to Luca Moretti at his family's historic Italian restaurant in Chicago.
I was holding a green ceramic casserole dish.
One corner was chipped.
The handles had faded from years of use.
And inside was a homemade baked ziti that smelled exactly like the Sunday dinners Luca's mother used to make.
“Mrs. Bellini, his sister brought it herself.”
Vanessa's smile disappeared.
“I know who brought it.”
“She said it was their mother's recipe.”
“Then she can take it home.”
I hesitated.
“Mr. Moretti hasn't seen his sister in almost a year.”
Vanessa stepped closer.
“And whose business is that?”
I lowered my eyes.
“I'm sorry, ma'am.”
“Then stop interfering. His sister made her choice. She's not family here anymore.”
My name is Rachel Morgan.
I'm twenty-six, and I've worked as a housemaid for the Moretti family for eighteen months.
I'd known Teresa Moretti before she passed away.
She was seventy-eight.
A small woman with silver hair, a gentle laugh, and a habit of feeding everyone who walked through her kitchen.
Every Sunday, she made baked ziti in that same green dish.
She never measured anything.
“Good food doesn't need a ruler, sweetheart,” she'd tell me.
Her daughter Anna always helped.
Her son Luca always arrived late.
And Teresa always saved him the crispy corner piece.
But ten months ago, Teresa died.
And something happened between Luca and his older sister that nobody in the household would discuss.
They stopped speaking.
Anna stopped coming to Sunday dinner.
The green casserole dish disappeared from the kitchen.
Until tonight.
At five thirty, a woman in a simple navy dress had appeared at the restaurant's service entrance.
She was carrying that dish with both hands.
“I'm Anna Moretti,” she'd told me.
I recognized her immediately.
She looked exhausted.
“Could you tell my brother I came?”
“Of course, ma'am.”
She glanced toward the private dining room.
“Vanessa said Luca didn't want me at the engagement dinner.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did Mr. Moretti tell you that himself?”
Anna shook her head.
“No.”
Then she looked down at the casserole.
“I thought perhaps he'd at least want Mama's recipe.”
Now Vanessa was ordering me to hide the one thing Anna had brought.
“Rachel!”
She snapped her fingers.
“Are you listening?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Then get rid of it.”
I tightened my hands around the handles.
“Please. Can't I just ask Mr. Moretti?”
Vanessa's face hardened.
“You've been warned about involving yourself in family matters.”
I thought about my paycheck.
The apartment I'd finally been able to afford.
The bills waiting on my kitchen counter.
Then I thought about Anna standing alone outside the restaurant.
Holding her mother's casserole dish like it was the last piece of home she had left.
“I don't think he'd want it thrown away,” I whispered.
Vanessa stared at me.
“Then perhaps you should find another job.”
A chair moved at the head of the table.
“Why is Rachel losing her job?”
Luca Moretti had stopped speaking to his uncle.
Thirty-six years old.
Dark swept-back hair.
Black three-piece suit, tattoos visible along his neck and hands.
Vanessa immediately laughed.
“Darling, Rachel brought some homemade food into our formal dinner. I was simply asking her to remove it.”
Luca looked toward the dish.
Then stopped.
“Where did you get that?”
I swallowed.
“Your sister brought it, sir.”
He slowly set down his champagne glass.
“Anna?”
I nodded.
His expression changed.
“She's here?”
“She was, sir.”
For several seconds, he didn't move.
Then he walked around the table.
He touched the chipped corner of the dish.
A small, sad smile crossed his face.
“Mom dropped this on the kitchen floor when I was twelve.”
I looked at him.
“She did?”
He nodded.
“She cried because she thought she'd ruined it.”
His voice softened.
“Dad glued the handle back together. She used it for another twenty years.”
Then he looked toward the dining room doors.
“Where's my sister?”
Vanessa immediately interrupted.
“Luca, Anna left. She only came to make everyone uncomfortable.”
He turned toward her.
“Did you speak to her?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“That she didn't want to stay.”
Luca looked back at me.
“Rachel, is that true?”
My hands started trembling.
I could feel Vanessa watching.
“No, sir.”
The room became quiet.
“She asked whether you wanted to see her.”
Luca frowned.
“Why wouldn't I?”
I swallowed.
“Because Mrs. Bellini told her you didn't want her here.”
Vanessa put down her glass.
“That's not what happened.”
Luca slowly turned.
“You told me Anna refused the invitation.”
“She did.”
“Did you ask her yourself?”
Vanessa didn't answer.
Luca waited.
“Vanessa?”
Finally, she whispered, “I spoke to her.”
He looked toward the empty chair beside his uncle.
The chair his mother had always used.
Then he turned toward the restaurant manager.
“Marco, find my sister. Please.”
Twenty minutes later, Anna Moretti walked into the dining room.
She stopped when she saw Luca.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Luca crossed the room.
“Anna?”
Her eyes filled.
“Hi, little brother.”
His face crumpled.
He wrapped his arms around her.
And she began crying against his shoulder.
“I didn't think you wanted to see me.”
Luca held her tighter.
“Why would you think that?”
Anna pulled away.
“Because Vanessa said you blamed me for what happened to Mom.”
His expression changed.
“Blamed you?”
She nodded.
“For not getting you to the hospital in time.”
Luca went completely still.
Then he looked toward his fiancée.
“Vanessa?”
She swallowed.
“Luca, your mother was very sick. Everyone was emotional.”
But Anna shook her head.
“No. That's not what happened.”
She looked at her brother.
“Luca, I called you three times that night.”
He frowned.
“I never got those calls.”
Anna's face changed.
“What?”
“I was told Mom was sleeping. Vanessa said there was no reason to drive back until morning.”
Anna stared at him.
Then tears began running down her cheeks.
“Luca, Mom wasn't sleeping.”
Nobody moved.
Anna reached for his hand.
“She was asking for you.”
Luca's eyes filled.
“What?”
“She kept asking when her boy was coming.”
His breathing changed.
He looked toward Vanessa.
Then back at his sister.
“Anna, I was two hours away. I would've come.”
“I know.”
Her voice broke.
“That's why I called.”
For several seconds, Luca couldn't speak.
Then he sat down beside his mother's old chair.
He looked at Vanessa.
“You told me my mother was comfortable. You told me she wasn't asking for anyone.”
Vanessa's hands began trembling.
“I thought I was protecting you.”
“From what?”
“From seeing her like that.”
Luca stared at her.
“You let me miss the chance to say goodbye to my mother?”
Vanessa started crying.
“Luca, please.”
But Anna caught his arm.
“There's something else.”
He looked up.
“What?”
Anna glanced toward the green casserole dish.
“Mom knew you were coming home that weekend.”
Luca swallowed.
“She did?”
Anna nodded.
“She made me promise we'd have Sunday dinner together, even if she couldn't cook anymore.”
Luca lowered his head.
Then Anna whispered something that made him look up again.
“But before she died, Mom asked me why Vanessa kept telling her you didn't want to see her.”
The dining room went silent.
Vanessa stopped crying.
Luca slowly stood.
“What did you just say?”
Anna's hands were shaking.
“She thought you were angry with her.”
His expression changed completely.
“Angry? Why?”
Anna looked directly at Vanessa.
“Because someone told her you'd decided she was becoming too much trouble.”
Luca stared at his fiancée.
And for the first time that evening, his anger gave way to something much worse.
He looked devastated.
“My mother died thinking I didn't want to see her?”
Anna began crying harder.
Then she reached for his hand.
“Luca, there's one thing I haven't told you.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
She glanced toward Vanessa.
“Mom didn't ask me to bring you this casserole dish.”
Luca frowned.
“Then why did you bring it?”
Anna's voice trembled.
“Because it's the last thing we made together. And when we finished, she told me why she was afraid of your wedding.”
Vanessa suddenly stepped forward.
“Anna, please. Your mother was confused.”
But Anna shook her head.
“No. She knew exactly what she was saying.”
Luca slowly turned toward his sister.
“What was Mom afraid of?”
Anna looked at the woman in the red dress.
And whispered:
“She said Vanessa had made her promise something about you. Something she regretted agreeing to.”
Luca stopped moving.
“What promise?”
May you like
Anna's eyes filled.
“That's what I came here to tell you, Luca. But before I do, I need to know why Vanessa told our mother she'd lose you forever if she broke it.”
