Read Online Lost in Rome by Cindy Callaghan - Free Book Online Page A

laughed, hopefully over the confusion of the meeting place.
    When the lunch rush slowed down, Gianna and I sat at the corner near the register with one of Amore’s menus. She had an assortment of glitter pens, stickers, and stampers. Meataball sat on the extra menus.
    I studied menu items. There were so many wonderful traditional Italian dishes. I wondered if maybe Amore could add a few American-inspired pizzas. I wrote descriptions of three combos that I missed in Rome, while Gianna doodled around the edges.
    â€œHow about we name these after American cities?” I suggested. “This one will be the New York, this one the Philadelphia, and this one the Los Angeles.”
    â€œI love that idea. And I’ll draw something from each city next to them—the Empire State Building, the Liberty Bell, and the Hollywood sign.”
    The new menu was going to look great and offer some items that no other pizzeria in the area had.
    â€œSo,” Gianna began. “Rico’s cute.”
    â€œSure,” I said.
    â€œYou know, it doesn’t make sense to me that you’re a matchmaker, yet you’ve never had a match of your own,” Gianna continued. “I mean, shouldn’t the matchmaker have some experience in romance?”
    â€œUmm . . . maybe. I guess.” Hm. I’d never really thought about it that way.
    â€œMaybe this could be the summer that you have your first love?” Gianna teased.
    I rolled my eyes. Saving Aunt Maria’s shop and making matches were stressful enough—I didn’t need any more drama in the kitchen!

16

    Aunt Maria usually unlocked the Amore Pizzeria door at eleven o’clock in the morning. But the next day, when we were sweeping up the dining room from the work done on the walls the night before, we watched customers begin to gather out front at ten thirty.
    â€œWho are all these people?” she asked. “Are they here because of your samples?”
    â€œI guess so,” I said. “They were really good. After all, they have your sauce.” I tucked Aunt Maria’s copy of Il Messaggero with Murielle duPluie’s article under the counter where I kept my matchmaking notes, which were growing to a nice size.
    Aunt Maria called to AJ and Vito, “You have some crust rolled out? I open the doors early.”
    â€œYup,” AJ said.
    â€œOkay.” She asked me, “You can ask Gianna, Jane, and Rico to come down and help?”
    I took the broom to the back corner of the store and knocked on the ceiling four times.
    Knock—knock—knock—knock.
    It was followed by four stomps. A minute later Gianna, Jane, and Rico walked in the back door.
    â€œWhat’s up?” Gianna asked.
    Aunt Maria said, “We need the help today.” She pointed to the customers.
    Rico said, “Food service is not really my gig.” He pushed a button on the copper espresso machine and watched hot brown liquid drip into a tiny ceramic cup. Then he leaned on the counter and sipped it. “I’ll be your support system.”
    â€œWhat is ‘gig’?” Aunt Maria took an apron off a hook and wrapped it around his waist. It was long, crisp, and white. She handed him a pad and pen. “There. You are the waiter. Gianna, you are the hostess. AJ, you are the assistant cook. Lucy, the waitress. Everybody has a job. Now, andiamo. Let’s Go!”
    Rico huffed and took his last sip of espresso.
    â€œJust smile a lot,” Gianna said to him. “You’ll be fine.”
    I said to Gianna, “Let’s check out those new votive candles you put in the dining room.” And I tugged her arm.
    â€œWhat?” she asked. “I can see them from here. They’re fine. But just look at that wall.” She pointed to the one that had been scraped with a wire brush last night. It revealed the original brick but still left speckles of white in the grooves. The result was a beautiful