It hadn’t worked. She’d drowned under my devoted attention and navigated more naturally to her father. I wondered if Maria had children. I wondered if they’d made it harder for her to concentrate on creating a successful product or if she just naturally balanced making cheese and raising a bunch of children. I wondered if any woman had really figured out the art of balance, or were we all just as confused about what would make us happy? Even worse, I wondered if what made us truly happy was in direct contradiction to what made our family happy.

I pushed away my spinning thoughts and watched as Maria demonstrated how to create the perfect knot, called nodini. Patricia came around the table and motioned toward us. “Now we are going to create pizzas with our fresh mozzarella. I need six volunteers to help me up here.”

Excited, I raised my hand with a few others. Patricia pointed to me. “Yes, would you come join us? Who is with you?”

“My daughter and granddaughter,” I said with pride.

“Wonderful, bring them up!”

I rose, but Allegra tugged at my arm. “Nonni, I don’t think I want to go up there.”

I remember how unsure I was of myself when I turned eighteen, even though pictures showed a beautiful, confident young woman. Couldn’t she see how she lit up a room when she walked in? She radiated a strong presence like Frannie, a woman who was destined to do big things in the world. The tour members adored her, and I wanted her to feel safe to have some silly fun. I gently urged her up. “Sweetheart, we get to make pizza in Italy together! Come on, do this with me.”

She bit her lip but followed me to the kitchen. Frannie joined us in the line. Patricia picked out Hana, Dan, and Kai. “How old are you?” she asked the boy.

“Ten.”

She nodded and shared a glance with Patricia. “Yes, I think you are old enough to cook. But first, we need to get ourselves in the mood. Cooking is a state of mind. You must be dressed for the part, so everyone will wear special aprons.”

Patricia took a stack from Giovanni and went down the line one by one, placing the apron over each of our heads and tying it in the back. Laughter erupted in the crowd and I looked over to see what was going on.

I gasped.

Hana was wearing an apron of a naked woman’s body with fig leaves placed over the breasts. Dan cracked up, but then he was presented with a muscled man’s chest with a large penis protruding from the front. Fortunately, the penis was also covered by a leaf, but the impression it left urged a shocked humor.

Maria shouted, “You like your aprons, no?”

Dan looked at his wife and raised his brow. “Yes, I most certainly do.”