Catarina stood at the kitchen counter, chopping raw tomatoes for the salsa di pomodori a crudo that Signor Carlucci favored, as the signora told Catarina what to do for the day.
“After you’ve finished preparing dinner, move on to the laundry and the ironing. I’m leaving the market list for you here, and of course, change the sheets.”
Catarina stopped chopping and held the knife still over the tomato she had begun cutting. Without looking up she hesitated and then asked, “But, Signora, wasn’t I to change them on Tuesday?”
“Cosa stai dicendo?” asked Signora Carlucci. “Why would you change them on Tuesday? Friday is the day to change sheets. I’ve been over this with you already,” she said with a furrowed brow and a look of exasperation on her face. “Pay attention, Catarina.”
Catarina glanced fleetingly at Signor Carlucci, who raised his chin and gazed at her with a level stare over his ledger.
Her heart pounded. She knew she should speak up and tell the signora that her husband had instructed her to change them on Tuesday, but she hesitated. Her voice caught in her throat. She felt afraid to speak up and her courage failed her.
“I’m sorry. I must have been mistaken,” she turned back to his wife. “Of course, sheets are changed on Friday. I forgot for a moment.” She was filled with regret and an odd sense of humiliation.
Catarina clenched her jaw and went back to cutting the tomatoes, paying careful attention so that she didn’t cut her finger in her sudden surge of emotions. She knew right then that there was going to be trouble with Signor Carlucci. She almost put down the knife to tell Signora Carlucci what had happened, but she knew the signora was unlikely to stand up for her maid and stop her husband. And Catarina realized that her employer would be horribly embarrassed if she knew what had transpired. That in itself was enough to stop Catarina from speaking about it. But even if that hadn’t prevented her, the look of warning from her husband certainly did. She took one small glance at Signor Carlucci and his eyes locked on hers. Before she could look away he changed his expression from one of warning to a conspiratorial smile.
After that, the situation gradually worsened. She couldn’t walk down the hall without him subtly brushing against her. Serving him at mealtime seemed to be an open invitation for him to touch her thigh. The first time it happened she was so surprised by the unexpected touch that the platter of chicken cacciatore she held clattered to the floor.
“Catarina!” Signora Carlucci exclaimed. “Are you ok? What happened?”
“I’m so sorry, Signora,” Catarina stammered. “I’m fine. I just lost my hold on the platter.”
“Nina, Nina,” consoled Signor Carlucci to his wife. “Don’t worry yourself about this. Accidents happen and obviously the girl didn’t mean it.”
“It’s true, Signora. I didn’t mean to drop it. It was an accident. I’ll be more careful from now on.”
“Well, clean it up then.” She looked at her husband. “I’m sorry, mio amore. She’s usually so efficient.”
“Not to worry, my dear,” he smiled lovingly at his wife. “I’m sure it won’t happen again.”
In the kitchen Catarina leaned her back against the wall with a hand to her chest, breathing hard.
“This is assurdo,” she muttered, absurd. This can’t continue, but how will anyone believe my word against his? He’ll tell everyone in the village I’m lying if I speak out against him. He’ll make up some terrible tale. And if I quit, how will I ever find another position with no letter of recommendation? There are so few families who can afford to have help now.
If I stay though, she thought, it will get worse, until what? He gets me alone and dishonors me? She shivered, afraid it was simply a matter of time before the old troll tried something more.
She wiped her face on the one part of her apron that was free from the chicken cacciatore mess.
This is no time for weeping, she reprimanded herself, and wet a rag to go wipe up the ruined dinner.
JULIETTE, AMILIA AND THE DAY THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
“Juliette!” Amilia waved to her daughter.
Juliette Brice took off her sunglasses, squinted against the sun pouring into the cozy bistro, and waved back as she made her way to their table.
“What happened to your finger?” Amilia asked when she sat down.
“Work casualty,” Juliette answered, looking at her now stitched and bandaged index finger. “I got distracted,” Juliette said, visualizing the kitchen door swinging open unexpectedly, as she—startled—sliced her finger with the razor-sharp chef’s knife, cutting down to the bone.
She’d gasped, the shock of realization coming a fraction of a second before the pain itself. Juliette’s right hand had shaken as she tried to open the package of bandages to hold the cut together.
“Can you help with this?” she’d asked her boss.
“Hand it here,” Elizabeth grabbed the packet of narrow, sterile strips from Juliette and then passed them to her one at a time to close the wound. Once it was closed, the two women paused and looked at the bandaged finger.
“Put on a finger cover, and get back to work.”
Juliette had inhaled deeply to steady herself, grabbed a rubber finger cover out of the first aid kit and rolled it on.
Amilia listened to Juliette’s account of how she spent the previous evening and smiled in spite of her attempted stoicism.
The two leaned their heads towards each other, temporarily oblivious to the hustle and bustle around them. Amilia, with her dark brown curls, was more petite and classically Italian looking than her taller daughter, whose light brown hair was long and silky smooth. But their eyes told the story of their connection. Both viewed the world through beautiful ice-blue eyes, the exact color of Juliette’s grandmother Catarina’s, and her mother’s before her.
“Why are you smiling at me with that mischievous look on your face while I’m telling you about my work woes?” Juliette playfully reprimanded her mom who was obviously up to something.
“Sorry. It’s just that I’ve been thinking a lot about your work situation lately and I have an idea.”
“Funny you should say that, because while I was sitting in the ER at two o’clock in the morning waiting to get stitches, I also had a thought or two about my job situation.”
“Then you go first,” her mom said. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that even though working with the renowned Lucian Kidd turned out to be a disaster, it was a learning experience and it’s time to stop licking my wounds and realize that there are different avenues to achieve what I want to achieve. Nonna used to say, grace and grit is what it took to get what you want in life and I think it’s time for me to call on a bit more grit. I’m almost thirty after all.”
“That’s exciting, Juliette. I’m proud of you.”
“I was just so hurt at the time. I didn’t know it would take this long to get over it, but I think I needed time to heal and regroup.”
“And now you have?”
“I think so. I could hardly even talk about it when it first happened. I had been so excited to work with him and everyone was happy for me, and then when instead of getting accolades for my inspired cooking and classical chef training I got fired, it was horribly embarrassing. I didn’t know how to process it, let alone tell people what happened.”
Amilia squeezed Juliette’s hand. “You know hiding out and doing catering work for Elizabeth