Chapter 18: Under the Tuscan Sun

Sophie plated the main course and served Roberto at the small kitchen table. She brought a bowl out for Carrie and then set down her own plate. “Sophie, this all smells and looks absolutely wonderful! What are we having?”

“This is a recipe with origins in Tuscany, the region of Italy around the city of Florence. It’s Creamy Tuscan Chicken with Spinach and Sun-Dried Tomatoes. It’s a popular and common dish, but I like to put my own spin on it.”

She watched, confidently, as he took a few bites. A wide smile spread across Roberto’s face, and he carefully put down his fork. “Madame, if the Mayor of Florence was here, he should give you the key to the city. I think that’s the most delicious chicken I have ever tasted.”

“You’ve knocked my socks and my shoes off, as promised. But don’t tell Carrie, we shouldn’t be messy inside the house.”

Both girls giggled. Sophie beamed; her eyes actually seemed to be twinkling.

“I’m not saying any more. It interferes with important eating.”

Roberto powered through his course and the side dish, and gratefully took a second helping. Dessert was cookies. They returned to the house’s front room sofa.

“Sophie, is Carrie being a good girl? Should she open the blue box?”

“Mama!”

“It’s not more laundry detergent, is it?”

“That would be so mean! I promise, she will like it.”

Carrie’s agitation was turned up to 11. “MAMA!”

“OK, kid.”

Carrie pounced on the box and tore at the wrappings, until the colorful plastic toy set was revealed. “Legos! There’s a horse!” She hugged the box to her chest tightly. “Mama! Help me! I want to play!”

Sophie used her calm mothering voice. “Carrie. Carrie. Stop. Listen. What do you say when Mr. Garcia gives you a present?”

“Thank you, Mr. Garcia. Can I hug you?”

“You’re very welcome, Miss Carrie. You can hug me, and please thank your mom. Because you should only take presents from strangers when she says it’s OK, right?”

Carrie knee-walked over to Roberto for an awkward hug; then she picked up the box and rushed over to Sophie. “Thank you, Mama. Can we open it now so I can play?” She examined the box. “Age 4+”–great. “142 pieces”–oops. She pointed at the “142” and gave Roberto the stink eye.

“There’s a problem, baby, this has lots and lots of hard little pieces. If I step on one, I might be really hurt. Hurt bad! So we need a special rule. These pieces have to stay in your room. In your room, always! If I find a piece out here, I’ll have to take away the whole set.”

“Carrie, is this a fair rule? What do you think?”

“Mama, it’s fair. I will be careful. I promise.” Carrie’s expression was solemn as she made a crossing motion over her chest. And then, she brightened.

“Let’s take it to my room now so I can play!”

“OK, baby.” They disappeared down the hall.

Roberto sat back in the sofa cushions in disbelief. In just a couple of minutes, Sophie had shown an incredible understanding of her child and her needs. In a worn little California laundromat, he had blundered into a date with a gorgeous, worldly, and empathetic woman who outclassed him in every way.

He kicked himself for not realizing how a box of 142 little plastic pieces might be a problematic gift.