“How was it?” Mom asked, giving us both a short hug. “Did you make some wonderful stuff?”

“Chef Bernini is a master,” I said. “I can’t thank you enough, Enzo, for letting us do this. Besides teaching me so much, he said he’d give me a recommendation if I need it for college!”

Mom looked a bit worried, but she held her tongue. We’d come a long way. “Then you must have impressed him,” she said firmly.

Enzo nodded. “He does not give compliments or recs easy. I’m so glad you enjoyed it. Ian, did you get to see some of Lucca?”

“Allegra took me around. We checked out the museum, the cathedral, and the gardens.” He shot me a look filled with warm affection. “It was the best day.”

Nonni beamed. “Good, that is how it should be. I think you’ve done enough cooking today, Allegra. Why don’t you both freshen up and relax on the terrace? I made more lemonade.”

Enzo motioned upstairs. “You’re bunking with me, Ian.”

“Sounds good. I appreciate you letting me stay, Ms. Ferrari. My parents really loved spending time with you.”

“Thanks, Ian. Just call me Frannie. I felt the same way about them, and I think you saved Allegra from mother overkill.”

Ian laughed, and we went our separate ways to change.

We were all in a lighthearted mood as we gathered around the table and picked at finger foods Nonni had created. Plump figs and ripened olives lay in small bowls with fragrant oils and herbs to dip. Chunks of crusty bread and sharp Parmesan cheese completed the antipasto.

We stayed up late, listening to Enzo’s stories about crazy tourists and the things they’d made him do. Ian spoke of Ireland and sketched out the beauty of green rolling hills, small-town life, and how the pubs were as intimate as living rooms, where everyone gathered. When they asked about Manhattan, Mom and I shared a look and started laughing.

“Do you want to tell them the story?” she asked, leaning back in her chair.

“Sure. Mom and I had gone to see a Broadway play, and—”

“Oh, which one?” Ian asked.

“Phantom of the Opera. It was so romantic,” I said.

“Hmm, I’d have preferred Hamilton or The Lion King—I heard they’re good.”

I pressed my lips together. “I’ll take that under consideration if we ever go to a play,” I teased.

He grinned. “Sorry, I got caught up. Go ahead.”

“So, we’re coming out of the play and it’s pouring buckets—I mean, we were under the awning and we had pools of water up to our ankles. No one could get a cab, there was barely space to stand, and we were blocks away from the train station.”