Leo’s father eyed the bread like it might possibly contain poison. “It’s not French bread,” Tessa rushed to say. “It’s very crusty on the outside and soft on the inside, the way they make it in Italy. French bread typically doesn’t contain oil, but Italian bread does—so for this loaf, I used imported Tuscan olive oil.” She pushed the plate a little toward him. Aunt Loretta helped pass it down. Leo set a plate of dipping oil with herbs in the middle of the table.

Gia didn’t hesitate to dive right in. “This is so good. What’s in here?”

“It’s Italian peasant bread. With oregano and rosemary.” She rushed to add, “But I can make it without the herbs next time if you think it’s too much.” She hoped Leo’s dad had heard the word Italian, which she’d enunciated loud and clear.

“This entire meal is all organic,” Leo said. “Every vegetable came from local farmers. The seafood was flown in from the east coast, and it’s so fresh it was literally swimming in the Atlantic yesterday. And it was all sustainably sourced.”

His dad snorted a little. Aunt Loretta shushed him.

Mr. Castorini frowned at his sister before addressing Leo. “How much did you pay for seafood that was swimming yesterday?”

“More than the frozen stuff that you buy from the general restaurant suppliers,” Leo said, cool and steady. “But Dad, the extra business this generates will make up for it.”

“It’s not going to taste any different,” he said.

Tessa grabbed her stomach, wishing for antacids. This was what they were up against.

And she’d thought her mom was stubborn.

If Leo’s dad wouldn’t buy in to what Leo was trying to do, she could kiss her opportunity to make beautiful desserts goodbye. She knew in her heart that she was meant to create more than bread. She just knew it.

But there was more. She could tell from the care Leo had taken and the hard work he’d done that he was passionate about what he was doing. She could hear it in his voice. See it in his uncharacteristically guarded demeanor. She understood now more than ever that Leo wanted the restaurant to be a success, and not just for his father. He seemed filled with pride in his work.

“All this fuss and money,” Mr. Castorini said, waving his hand over the table.

“Dad,” Leo said with restraint, “will you please just give this a chance?”

Aunt Loretta and Uncle Cosmo glanced worriedly at each other. Gia seemed oblivious, still eating bread. But Mr. Castorini was cranky, and Leo seemed to finally hit his irritation point. If Leo, the usual tension-breaker, couldn’t defuse the situation, who on earth would?

Leo left and returned with beautifully plated summery salads. “These are mesclun greens with pistachios, shallots, blood oranges, and a citrus dressing.”