Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Welcome to Campania

D uring the hour-long train ride, Randy was transfixed as the high-speed train swiftly passed the fields, farms, and hillside. The train itself was impressive. Clean, modern, fast. A big difference from what they were used to. Rachael struck up a conversation with an American couple sitting across the aisle who were visiting family for the holidays. They traded impressions of the sights they visited in typical Rachael animation. Get Rachael excited about something, and you'll be exhausted soon enough. But in a good way.

The hour went by quickly. Once the train came to a stop, Randy wrestled his luggage onto the platform and then gave Rachael a hand with hers. They wished their fellow train-travelers a Buon Anno and looked for the exit where they were to meet up with Amy and Peter.

As soon as they exited the terminal, they spotted Amy hanging out of the passenger window of a taxi, waving cheerfully and calling their names!

"Woo-hoo! Rachael! Randy!" Amy clapped her hands with glee.

Peter got out of the taxi, shook Randy's hand, kissed Rachael on the cheek, and helped with the luggage. The back of the vehicle was now packed to the brim.

Rachael yanked the door open and popped into the waiting car and gave Amy a big hug around the neck. "Professor! So good to see you!"

"Likewise!" Amy replied. "How was Rome?"

"Fabulous. Really, really fabulous. I wish we had more time, although my dogs were barking after the second day of walking around."

"Dogs? Barking? You don't have a dog, do you?" Amy was confused until Rachael explained it was a euphemism for "my feet are tired, and they hurt."

"Oh," Amy replied.

Rachael was always surprised at Amy's lack of knowledge of colloquialisms. She guessed it was because Amy was busy learning about biochemistry and subatomic particles. But that was one of the things that made Amy so charming: her unawareness of things less important.

"So, Amy, how was the big bang thing?" Rachael asked.

Silence.

"Hello?" Rachael mocked.

"Well, let's just say it didn't go exactly as planned," Amy answered sheepishly.

"What do you mean?" Rachael prodded.

Peter decided it was going to be Amy to tell the story and kept his mouth shut.

Amy let out a heavy exhale. "I kinda got lost."

"Lost? How? Don't they have security? What are you talking about?" Rachael was firing off questions.

"I mistakenly went with the wrong group."

"Okay, and?" Rachael pushed.

"And they were on a general tour. They were from Germany."

"And?" Rachael felt like she was pulling taffy.

"And I just kept following them until the end."

"So?"

"So, I got on a transport bus thinking we were going to another part of the facility."

"But?"

"But they were on their way to another tour."

"So why didn't they just turn around and bring you back?"

"Because they were on a tight schedule. I had to sit on the bus until the driver let them off and could go back to the center."

"Well how long did it take for you to get back?"

"Three hours." Amy hung her head. "Plus, I didn't have my phone. They made me hand it over to security."

Peter could tell Amy was done with her part of the story, so he finished up for her. "She asked the driver to call the center and then asked someone to retrieve her phone. She gave them her code so they could call me and let me know what was going on."

"Oh my gosh! You must have been totally freaked out!" Rachael said with alarm.

"More like totally embarrassed," Amy chimed in. "I felt like such a dodo."

Rachael couldn't help but chuckle. "And this is another reason why we love you, Amy. You're the smartest dodo we know."

With a total straight face, Peter said, "I'm thinking of having a microchip planted in her wrist."

"Don't kid around. I think there is a certain billionaire who wants to do that with his employees. Science fiction isn't so fiction-y anymore," Amy added.

"How was Rome?" Peter asked.

"Ooh. Ooh. Tell them about our spree on the streets of Trastevere!" Randy encouraged Rachael.

"You guys didn't get into any trouble, did you?" Amy asked.

"Why do you think I'm the one always getting into trouble?" Rachael asked. "I believe you just told us a story about a certain person getting lost at a nuclear center."

"I didn't get into trouble. I simply got a little turned around." Amy looked at Rachael. "Okay, I was lost, but I wasn't in trouble."

Peter broke in, "She was lucky because from what I experienced, the Swiss have an accuracy thing going on."

"As in watches?" Rachael asked.

"As in pretty much everything. Precision is in their DNA."

"No wonder they make such good watches." Randy smirked. "Go on, Rachael. Tell them how we started a dance party in the middle of the street."

"You did?" Amy perked up.

"There was a trio playing. There are trios and musicians everywhere, but this one in particular was playing something we could dance to, so I grabbed Randy's hand, and he started spinning me around. Then people began to gather. Then other people joined us. It was such an impromptu thing. So. Much. Fun.

"Next time, make a right turn at Geneva and go straight to Rome. There is so much to see and do."

"And eat!" Randy added. "The people are full of life. Joy. Rachael is right. There are street musicians, street performers, and artists everywhere."

Rachael recounted their sightseeing adventures, concluding with the kind cab driver who made a loop through Vatican City. "We just couldn't do one more thing."

"Especially after dancing in the street," Randy inserted into the conversation. "We put a few hours of walking in during the day, took a siesta, and then went to dinner."

"It's called a pennichella ," Rachael corrected him again.

"Potato, potahto. It's an Italian nap."

"Supposed to be no longer than twenty or thirty minutes. But Mr. Cranky Pants wanted to stretch it out."

"It's true. Anything longer than forty minutes will put you into a deeper sleep, which makes it harder to rally. Under thirty will refresh you," Amy agreed.

Randy folded his arms. "My disco naps were always around an hour."

"Goody for you. We're experiencing a different culture." Rachael made a face. Randy made one back at her.

"So, tell me more about where you went," Amy entreated.

Rachael and Randy took turns talking about the sites they visited. "It was awesome," Randy added.

"And kinda overwhelming," Rachael said. "You read about these places, you see them on TV and in films, but when you are standing in the middle of the Pantheon, I have to tell ya, it's mind-boggling to think about how they built those structures."

"And how they survived all these years," Randy said. "Well, kinda. They are called ‘ruins' for a reason, but so much of it has been preserved. Like I said to Rachael, we can barely build anything to last more than a couple of decades. Oh, and the train? Amazing. Fast. Clean. Prompt."

"Makes you wonder if Italy can do it, why can't we?" Peter reflected. "Although that's more of a rhetorical question, because we could put a list of reasons together rather quickly."

"True," Amy agreed, and wanted to avoid any negative conversation. "And how was the food?"

"A-mazing," Randy answered. "Rome is a gastronomical wonderland."

"Well, we'll see about the pizza here." Peter snickered.

"Peter and Giovanni have a little difference of opinion about pizza, and Giovanni is going to bring us on a pizza tour this afternoon."

Rachael looked at Peter. "You challenged Giovanni to a pizza throwdown?"

"I couldn't bring any Boston pizza with me, but I packed my taste buds," Peter joked and tapped his cheek.

Rachael looked at Randy and then at Amy. "Is he serious? He's going to compare Boston pizza with Neapolitan pizza?"

"What do you expect from an accountant?" Amy teased.

"My profession has nothing to do with my palate."

"We shall see about that." Amy pursed her lips. "I, for one, can't wait to taste the perfection."

"Whose side are you on?" Peter joked.

"Margherita's," Amy answered.

"Who's Margherita?" Rachael asked, then got it—"Oh, duh. Margherita pizza! Good one!"

As the car approached a turn in the road, the driver pointed ahead. "Vesuvius."

Silence fell throughout the vehicle.

"It's massive," Randy finally remarked.

" Sì ," the driver agreed. "You go to Pompeii today, no?"

"We're meeting people there, but the four of us won't be going through the ruins."

"Because?" he asked.

"Because we don't have a lot of time here," Amy answered. "We'll be staying in Baronissi, and our friends have everything planned."

"Maybe next time you go," the driver suggested.

"We threw coins in the Trevi Fountain, so we're supposed to come back," Randy said gleefully.

"How many coins?" the driver asked.

"Three. Each." Randy pointed to himself and Rachael.

"Ah, you find love and marriage."

Randy whispered slyly, "But not to each other."

Both Peter and Amy laughed at his comment. Within a half hour, they were at the entrance of the site. The street was crowded with tourists, cars, vans, and buses.

Amy spotted Frankie and Giovanni standing near a large passenger van. "There they are!" Amy squealed. She rolled down the window and started waving wildly.

Frankie was the first to spot her and mimicked Amy's gestures. The driver pulled as close to them as possible without running over any sightseers. They thanked the driver and wrestled their luggage from the back.

He called out, "Arrivederci!"

There was a lot of commotion going on outside the vehicle. Hugs, yelps, handshakes, and Amy jumping up and down.

"Nina and Richard are on their way. They're retrieving their luggage," Frankie read the text.

Then Amy spotted them about a hundred yards away. "There they are!" More jumping up and down.

Everyone watched as Nina and Richard threaded their way in and out of the crowd, pulling their rolling suitcases behind them.

More shouts, hugs, yelps, kisses, handshakes, plus Amy's normal jumping up and down.

"Benvenuto!" Giovanni was smiling from ear to ear. They actually pulled it off. Here they were in Italy for their annual New Year's Eve celebration. It started as an idea, and it came to fruition. He knew he had to thank Frankie for talking them into it, but he also knew it wouldn't take a lot of convincing, especially if Frankie was in charge.

"How has everyone's trip been so far?" Frankie asked.

Naturally everyone started talking at the same time.

"I think we're going to have to take turns, kids. Who wants to go first?"

Of course it was Rachael who jumped at the question. "I do! I do!"

"Why am I not surprised?" Frankie poked fun. "The floor is yours."

Rachael recounted the places they visited and almost every morsel of food they enjoyed.

"Don't forget about the dancing," Randy reminded her, and Rachael continued.

Next was Nina's turn. She described her brief visit with Jordan, how they were going to work on a project, and of course, the fabulous food.

"Amy? How was Geneva?" Frankie asked, noticing Amy was unusually quiet.

"Let's save that for later while I'm investigating this pizza claim Giovanni has insisted on."

"And what about you guys?" Nina asked, referring to Frankie and Giovanni.

"Busy. Very, very busy. But good busy. More food than I can describe."

"And Mr. Parisi's wine." Giovanni chuckled.

"Oh, yeah. Mr. Parisi's wine. It takes homemade wine to another level, compared to the swill my grandfather used to make."

"He produces about fifty cases every year. New Year's Eve, he opens a few bottles and shares with friends. We are invited to sample this year's vintage, and then we will go back to the house for a party."

"Sounds fab!" Rachael said.

"And my friend Jordan will be joining us," Nina added. She could see Richard bristle. Ha .

"More on that later. How was Pompeii?" Frankie asked.

Richard began, "For Christmas, Nina gave me a private guided tour with an archaeologist. Obviously, she inserted herself." He chuckled. "It was shocking, startling, and mind-blowing."

"Did any of it creep you out?" Frankie winced.

"It was certainly a tragedy, but such insight into how people lived two thousand years ago was fascinating. The ruins of the city are what you could call an ‘open-air' museum. It was a wealthy city with private luxury homes. Luxury for that time. Walls are covered in mosaics, and paintings. They surmise there were approximately eleven thousand residents and a theatre that could accommodate five thousand people at a time." Richard paused. "Even though there has been some question as to what time of year it actually took place, there is evidence it occurred during the Festival of Augustus, which attracted over a thousand more people, and that caused the toll to rise."

"But didn't they feel any kind of rumbling?" Randy asked, thinking about the size of the volcano they had recently passed.

"Apparently the day before was another celebration called Vulcanalia, honoring the god of volcanoes. The partygoers thought rumbling was a sign the gods were pleased."

"If I felt the ground trembling under my feet, I'd hightail it outta there," Randy said with wide eyes.

Amy broke in, "It took less than twenty-four hours for Pompeii and Herculaneum to be covered in ash, but the gases and the heat alone would have killed everyone."

"Okay! Fun times! So, Amy, we haven't heard from you yet," said Frankie, trying to change the subject.

"Later, please."

"What happened?" Frankie looked Amy directly in the eye.

"I kinda, sorta got lost."

"Lost? How? Didn't you get to the collider?" Frankie asked.

"Yes."

"And?" Nina pushed.

"And I got mixed up with a group of tourists from Germany. I got to see a lot of it, but not with the people I was supposed to meet."

"Amy took a tourist van excursion to the Jet d'Eau."

"Why?" Frankie asked.

"Because I got on the bus thinking it was going to take us to another part of the facility, but they were headed to the fountain, which, by the way, I had already seen." Amy sighed. "I had to go along for the ride until the driver could bring me back to CERN, which was where Peter was waiting for me."

"Oh, Amy, that's terrible. You were so looking forward to it."

"I know, but honestly, it's fine. I got to see a lot of it, and now I can say I was there." The disappointment was fading, and Amy was embracing the positive.

"How was what you saw of it?" Randy asked kindly.

"Pretty awesome." Amy smiled.

"It just occurred to me that our little group here has experienced a wide swath of humankind. From ancient Rome to beating up subatomic particles. Past and future. Pretty cool," Richard interjected.

"Let's not forget about the present," Frankie reminded them. "Speaking of presents . . ." She turned her head to reveal the stunning diamond earrings Giovanni gave her.

"Wow!" Rachael exclaimed.

"Holy sparkly rocks, Batman!" Randy added.

"Gorgeous!" Nina tossed in her opinion.

"You're making us look bad, Giovanni," Richard chastened him in jest.

"Richard got me season tickets to the opera and is taking me to dinner at Le Bernardin, Eleven Madison Park, and Per Se," Nina said, making sure Richard knew she appreciated his gift.

"That's not too terrible," Rachael pointed out.

"Peter bought us tickets to go to Albuquerque for the hot-air ballon festival and a weekend in Santa Fe."

"Very nice," Frankie said. "It sounds like everyone had a jolly holiday."

"And it's not over!" Amy squealed. "Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!" she chanted.

"First, we go to the house. You leave your suitcases, wash your face, and then we go," Giovanni instructed.

"Yay!" Amy shouted.

The chatting continued for the next thirty minutes as they drove through the hills of Campania. People on Vespas whizzed by.

"Oh, that looks like fun." Randy craned his neck. "Can we do that?"

"Rent a Vespa?" Giovanni asked.

"Yes? Can we? I mean, is it possible?" Randy asked.

"I think it's okay. Where do you wanna go?" Giovanni asked.

"I dunno." He looked over at Rachael. "You up for a spin?"

"Of course!" she immediately jumped in.

"Tomorrow we go to the Amalfi Coast, and dinner in Sorrento," Giovanni spoke from the front passenger seat.

"How about the day after?" Rachael asked.

"Sure. Day of New Year's Eve? Everyone wanna Vespa?"

"Not me," Amy said, and turned to Peter.

"Me, either. If the few people we've seen so far are an example of it, I'd rather be in an enclosed vehicle."

Nina looked at Richard, who replied, "I'm with Peter on this. Let's sit back and let someone else do the driving."

"Bene!" Giovanni said. "I'll take you to the rental agency in Salerno, and then the rest of us can have lunch."

"What about the party?" Frankie asked. "How much prep work is involved?"

"Not too much. The lentils and sausage are ready. I'll make steak on the grill, slice, serve with arugula."

"Oh, we had something like that last night for dinner! It was de-lish," Rachael commented.

"So you like tagliata?" Giovanni asked with a grin.

"Absolutely!" Randy put his two cents in.

"You sure you wanna again?"

"When in Salerno . . ." Randy chuckled.

" Bene . Plus, we have some cheese, dried sausage, prosciutto."

"Antipasto, yes?" Nina was more pleading than asking.

"Of course! Bruschetta, too. Simple."

"For you!" Randy chuckled. "I don't mind being the taste tester, by the way."

"I make. You test!" Giovanni clapped his hands together.

"You make whatever and I shall enjoy."

"What else?" Frankie asked. "Do you need me to do anything?"

"Help me find the recipe." Giovanni shook his head.

"What recipe?" Amy asked.

"My mother's recipe for panettone. It is different, and it's molto bene ."

"And she won't give it to you?" Peter asked.

"No, and we cannot ask." Giovanni frowned.

"Why is it a secret?" Amy pushed on.

"Because it won many prizes for generations."

"Well, aren't you a generation?" Amy asked innocently.

"Yes, but it is in the estate. So, we will not see it until after she passes. I don't wanna wait that long!" Giovanni gave a slight chuckle. "Besides, I wanna make one for her to see how good I can do it. As good as she can."

"As in competition?" Rachael couldn't help herself. Competitions were part of her life.

"No. No. So she could be proud." Giovanni's eyes saddened. "Now. So she could be proud now. So I can see the look on her face when I can do something that's been in my family for generations."

Frankie could tell Giovanni was getting emotional. Maybe all this confusion, travel, people, was wearing him down. "Gio, your mother is proud of you no matter what you do."

Nina jumped in, "Look at the business you and Marco built. The restaurant is busier than ever."

Then it was Richard's turn: "Listen, Giovanni, you made it through the pandemic, and the slow return to whatever normal is now."

"Yes. Yes. Sorry. I not meant to bring family matters to you. We are here together to enjoy each other!" Giovanni was slightly embarrassed by his emotional flare-up. Then he went on to say, "Marco and I have been trying to find the recipe. We don't know where she hides it."

Frankie added, "Yeah. One night I went into the kitchen to fix a cup of tea, and I saw the light under the pantry door. It was Marco and Giovanni sampling the panettone, trying to scribble down what they thought was in it."

"Oh, and yes, Frankie was going to hit us over the head with a frying pan!" Giovanni's mood lightened.

"For eating cake?" Amy asked.

"No, because, well, I didn't know what I was going to find and wanted to arm myself." Frankie snickered.

"Have you ever watched those stupid babysitter movies where she goes down into the basement with a hammer?"

"Well, duh," Frankie answered. "You never know what you're going to do when you're faced with a situation."

"Write this down. When you hear a strange noise coming from a closet, the basement, or otherwise, get as far away as you can and call the police." Nina shook her head. "Understood?"

"Capisce." Frankie was equally embarrassed that she pulled such a stupid stunt.

"What if there really was a burglar in the pantry? Then what?" Rachael huffed.

"Then I'd be toast," Frankie admitted.

"French toast!" Giovanni joked. "Why they call it French toast in Italy, I do not know."

The ride to the house in Baronissi went quickly with all the chatter and laughter going on. It was a small town between the foothills north of the city of Salerno. It was chock full of stucco and cement homes with terracotta tiled roofs. Many of the villages or communes looked similar, many surrounded with lemon and olive trees. It was an interesting mix of vegetation with evergreens, boxwoods, and an occasional palm tree. Most of the architecture was older by hundreds of years, but as you got closer to the university, smatterings of new houses were tucked into the scenery.

The vehicle pulled into a large U-shaped driveway and stopped in front of a large two-story house. Another one for the ages. It was similar to Giovanni's family house in many ways. The tiled floors. A second kitchen on the lower level; slab, stone walkways. Patio in the back. The only thing that was significantly different was the view. Giovanni's family house sat on a hill overlooking the city and the sea. The Baronissi home had a view of the forests and hills.

Everyone ooh ed and aah ed as they surveyed the property where they would be staying.

"You said they're professors?" Amy asked.

"Yes. They are," Giovanni answered.

"And they can afford a place like this? Or do they only live in part of it?"

"Like many houses, it has been passed on from one generation to the next. Upkeep is very expensive, and sometimes the family can no longer afford to do it and they move," Giovanni explained. "Some families will rent a room to a student for extra income. Baronissi gets many exchange students that want to live among a family, immerse themselves."

"That's very cool," Amy responded. "We do that sort of thing at home, too. When I was in high school, a young girl from Switzerland came for a year. They graduate earlier than we do, and she wanted to spend a year with an American family. Her plan was to go into the hospitality business when she went back to Switzerland. Oh, and did you know that women there didn't get the right to vote until 1971?"

"Wait. What?" Nina was surprised. "I thought they were a very modern country."

"That depends on what you consider modern," Amy responded. "They are very regimented; I found that out for sure. It might have taken ten extra minutes to drive me back instead of making me sit on the bus for three hours."

Nina put her hand on Amy's shoulder. "Amy, try to let it go." Then she quickly turned to Rachael. "Please do not sing."

"What?" Rachael didn't get it right away. "Ah. The song from Frozen ! Let it . . ." she began to sing.

"Let's forget about Switzerland for now," Frankie jumped in, cutting off Rachael. "We are in beautiful southern Italy. Let's get you guys settled," Frankie said.

"And then we go for the pizza!" Giovanni gave Peter the thumbs-up. "Come. Bring the suitcases upstairs."

As they climbed the stairs, Rachael realized she hadn't given much thought to the sleeping arrangements. She knew there were four bedrooms, and then wondered how things would work out with her and Randy. But then she remembered Frankie and Giovanni were staying at his family's house.

It was as if Randy were reading her mind. He cleared his throat and looked at Rachael. "Good thing there's another bedroom. No offense, dearie, but sleeping with you for two nights is all I can stand." He pursed his lips, waiting for a response. He enjoyed trying to get Rachael's goat.

"As if I would ever consider it again," she mocked in response. Then she addressed the rest of the group. "Do you know he sings in the shower?"

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Oh yes. And terribly, too," Rachael mugged. "I thought someone was trying to kill him. The screeching. It was horrifying."

Randy let out a huff. "Okay, you win this one, dearie."

"Glad to see the two of you are getting along as well as ever," Nina said drolly.

"Oh yes. We were discussing marriage on the train."

Amy looked puzzled. "Marriage? To whom?"

"Certainly not each other," Randy shot back.

"So why did the subject come up?" Amy asked.

"Because we threw three coins in the Trevi Fountain. One, so you will return to Rome, the second for love, and the third for marriage," Rachael explained.

"Marriage? You? I thought you swore off the stuff," Nina quipped.

"Well, as someone pointed out, if the right person comes along, that could change things." Rachael winked at Randy.

"See? We really are friends." He smiled from ear to ear.

They stood in the hallway, deciding who was going to take which room. The modest rooms were similar in size and style. There was enough room for a decent-sized bed, an armoire, and dresser, with a small chair in a corner. There was just enough room to move around. The windows were slightly open, allowing the crisp, clean air to fill the rooms.

"Is it me, or does the air smell different here?" Frankie asked. "As soon as we got out of the airport, I noticed it."

"Ancient air, perhaps?" Amy said, and she began the science lesson for the day. "Think about this. We breathe air that's made of oxygen and nitrogen gas, with traces of other gases. All those molecules are perpetually rearranged and recycled through bio and geochemical processes."

"Thank you, professor," Nina nodded.

"I'm just sayin' that it's highly likely that there is an infinitesimal amount of molecules that were here thousands of years before, mingling inside your body right now."

Once everyone claimed their space, Giovanni and Frankie went to the first floor and checked the kitchen. There were breakfast pastries in the pantry; fruit in the refrigerator; cream, cheese, and salumi; and several types of freshly ground coffee. Giovanni remembered Peter liked beer, so he made sure to stock the fridge with a six-pack of Peroni and one of Moretti. There was a bottle of white wine chilling, and a bottle of red on the counter.

They looked at each other and nodded. "We could open a B and B," Frankie postulated.

"Ah, no, cara ." Giovanni thought she might be serious for a minute.

"Ah, sì , no. But we would be good at it." She winked.

The group finally reconnoitered on the patio off the living room. Randy was leaning on the railing. "I think I could live here," he sighed.

"But you said that about Rome," Rachael corrected him.

"Yes, I mean I think I could live here in Italy," Randy waxed dreamily.

"As I said, you'd have to figure out what to do for a living."

"If you recall, I was a concierge at a fancy-schmancy resort. I could always find a job doing that."

"But you said you hated it."

"Maybe hate was a bit strong, and maybe I was a bit bored. But it could be very different doing that job here."

"Tourists are tourists," Rachael tossed at him.

"Oh, just let me dream for a few, dearie," he yearned.

Rachael noticed the change in his demeanor. He was much more mellow. Maybe this is why so many Europeans call it a "holiday," and not just for the holidays. A holiday from your regular, boring life.

Giovanni broke into her speculation, saying that they would be going to three different pizzerias. "This way you can have a choice, and Peter will not win."

Peter knew he was never going to win a "Boston has Better Pizza than Naples Contest." Italians invented it, although some disagreed with the origin. But considering where the best mozzarella is made, and where the San Marzano tomatoes are grown, it's no contest at all. They were in the heart of pizza country.

They piled into the transport vehicle, and Giovanni gave the driver the three locations.

The first was a hole-in-the-wall in a town on the way to Salerno. Inside was a long counter in front of a stone pizza oven. Two men and a woman were working with dough. Another woman greeted them. Giovanni ordered two pizzas, one regular, the other with pepperoni.

"We start simple," he explained to the crew.

They took their seats at a long wooden picnic table. Within a few minutes, the steaming hot, delicious-smelling pizza was on the top of the counter. The woman brought a stack of paper plates and napkins.

"Birra?" she asked, pointing to a glass-front refrigerator that contained bottles of beer.

Everyone raised one hand as they tried to handle the hot slice with the other.

Giovanni took over. "You fold the slice down the middle, like so." He creased the triangle in half. "And then you eat." He took a bite. "But sometimes you eat with a knife and fork. Neapolitan pie is very messy."

Peter elbowed Amy. "See, I told you they eat pizza with a fork and knife here."

"But you eat Boston pizza," Giovanni reminded him. "You'll see. You taste."

The table fell silent as everyone folded and savored the food. Giovanni got up and asked for a few more napkins. He told the woman his friend never ate pizza before. She cackled at the absurd remark. "Who no eat-a-the pizza?"

Everyone at the table roared. Peter simply shook his head and picked up a third slice.

"You have room for more?" Giovanni asked.

"You bet!"

"So? What do you think about our pizza?" Giovanni eyed him.

"I don't believe I can make an accurate assessment without properly reviewing other assets," Peter cracked an accountant joke.

The second pizzeria was a few blocks away. It was a little fancier and was located on one of the side streets. It was a little more comfortable than the previous one, but Giovanni explained that their first pizzeria is where people pick them up or just grab a quick slice. It was Southern Italy's version of fast food.

The second pizzeria had a dozen tile tables and murals painted on the walls. Giovanni had phoned ahead and asked if they could accommodate eight people. They said they could if they didn't mind putting several small tables together. This time, he ordered a pizza with prosciutto, bur-rata, arugula, and shaved parmesan. When the waiter brought it to the table, it garnered compliments reserved for a work of art.

"Bellissimo!"

"Gorgeous!"

And then Nina actually said the words: "It's a work of art."

"Mangia!" Gio helped serve the slices while others passed them around the table.

Again, more napkins were needed, and this time they required a fork and knife.

Each of them polished off two pieces each, and one slice remained. Giovanni leaned over and looked at Peter. "We share?" he said.

"How many more pizzas are we going to have?"

"Two, three maybe."

"Okay. We'll share." Peter cut the slice and served it to Giovanni.

For the next hour, most of the sounds they emitted were groans of delight, or "I'm stuffed. What's next?"

That phrase became the slogan of their trip.

The final pizzeria was for dessert. Giovanni ordered a dozen zeppoli, half with crystalized sugar, half with powdered sugar. Then he ordered a light-crust pizza with cream fraiche and fresh fruit, and another thin crust with figs and goat cheese.

They gorged themselves and then sat back, fully sated. "I feel so gluttonous," Nina confessed.

"I think it's unanimous," Richard added.

Giovanni turned to Peter. "So, signore , what is the verdict?"

Richard chimed in, "I shall make closing arguments for you, Mr. Lombardi." Richard recapped the variety of flavors they experienced that took their taste buds to nirvana.

Then all eyes were on Peter.

"I concede. Giovanni Lombardi, you have dismantled all I had ever thought of Boston pizza."

Everyone applauded. Then someone at a nearby table asked, "What is Boston pizza? Does it have beans?"

That elicited more laughter and a few snorts. Then the group gathered their belongings and shuffled to the waiting transport. It was about twenty minutes back to the house. The van looked like it was filled with bobbleheads, everyone resisting dozing off. When they got to the house, they said their goodnights and thanked Giovanni profusely for the delectable evening, and for claiming his win over Peter. He reminded them to get a good night's sleep, explained about the food in the kitchen, and that they would be back to pick them up at ten o'clock the next morning.

He and Frankie got in his own car and released the driver for the night.

"That was great, Gio! Everyone had so much fun!" She patted his shoulder and blew him a kiss.

"I hope they enjoy tomorrow the same. And remind me to reserve a Vespa for Randy and Rachael for the day after."

"Really? You're gonna let them do that?" Frankie was dubious about the idea of the two zipping along very curvy roads with steep cliffs, with neither of them knowing where they were going.

"They want to do it. I cannot stop them."

"I know. It just makes me nervous."

Giovanni picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. " Cara , they are grown-ups. They are responsible for themselves."

"That's just it. Rachael? Responsible?"

"I think you do not give her enough credit. She's smart. Savvy."

"She's also wild and likes to take chances."

"What kind of chances they take? She's not going to jump into the volcano, no?"

"You're right."

"Relax, cara . Your friends are here. I am here. We are here."

The house was quiet when they entered. It was almost eleven o'clock. Marco, Anita, and the children left earlier that morning to go back to New York. Rosevita and Lucia were probably long gone into dreamland. Giovanni took Frankie's hand. He put his finger in front of his lips. "Shush. Follow me."

"Where are we going?" she whispered.

"The pantry."

"Not again," she whined.

"Shush."

They tiptoed into the kitchen and then into the pantry. Giovanni shut the door and turned on the light. He pulled out a step stool and climbed until he was eye level with the top shelf. He carefully reached up for the small, five-by-five, square wooden box where his grandmother had kept her recipes. The box had to be over a hundred years old. Just as he handed it down to Frankie, the door was pulled open. It was Rosevita.

"Giovanni? What are you doing?"

Frankie thought fast, turned, and held the box behind her back. "Changing the light bulb."

"But why? It's working."

"So you won't have to worry about it when I go back to New York." Giovanni caught on quickly.

Rosevita waved him off. "Pazzo!" Rosevita thought her son was getting a little goofy. She shook her head and turned around.

Frankie and Giovanni stood frozen in the pantry and listened for Rosevita's retreating footsteps. Instead, she was puttering around in the kitchen.

Frankie mouthed, "Now what?"

Giovanni pulled up the back of his shirt. "Put it here." He gestured to the lower curve below his waist. Frankie held it in place while Giovanni tucked his shirt back in.

"Giovanni! How long does it take to change a light bulb?" Rosevita called out.

Giovanni and Frankie exited the pantry together.

"Mama. Canna I have a little time with my beautiful Frankie?"

Rosevita rolled her eyes. " Capretti! Kids!" Then she smiled. It was good to be young and in love. Well, young-ish. Both were staring ahead at forty. She wondered if Giovanni was going to ask Frankie to marry him. She hoped so. This one was a keeper.

Frankie got behind Giovanni and put her arms around his waist. "Sorry, Rosevita. I hope we didn't embarrass you. Or us!" She chuckled.

Again, Rosevita waved them off and went back upstairs.

They didn't move an inch until they heard Rosevita's door close.

Like thieves in the night, Frankie and Giovanni padded their way down the hall to the room Frankie was staying in. Giovanni locked the door and then pulled the box out from his waistband and put it on the bed.

Frankie could barely contain herself. She bit her lip to keep from laughing too loud. "We're such criminals."

Giovanni gently removed the dozens of folded pieces of paper and cardboard from the box and laid them in order, for when he would return them. If he knew his mother like he did, she knew exactly where each recipe was in the pile of scraps of paper.

The two got on their knees and began to survey the decades of family treasures.

"Wow. There's everything from risotto, to bread, to a half-dozen kinds of meatballs. Ew, here's one for tripe." Frankie gagged at the idea of eating stomach lining. Liver was bad enough. She was definitely a "no internal organs" kind of gal. That was one thing she and Rachael agreed on.

"Anything that resembles a panettone recipe?" she asked.

"Nothing." Giovanni sat back on his heels.

"Do you think she uses one? I mean, doesn't she know it by heart at this point?"

"There is a recipe on paper. I remember seeing it when I was a kid. She would use a clothespin to hang it on the shelf."

"Maybe it's still in the kitchen?" Frankie suggested.

"Maybe." But Giovanni was crestfallen. He really thought he might have unearthed the cherished recipe.

"Come." He grabbed Frankie's hand, and they stealthily worked their way back to the kitchen. "You wait here."

He opened the pantry door, pulled out the stool, and returned the treasure chest to its perch. Except there was no treasure.

Once the box was safely back in its space, he went back into the kitchen. Frankie had been noodling around the stove, carefully and quietly opening and closing the cupboard doors. She shook her head.

Giovanni began investigating the drawers. They must have spent the good part of an hour combing every nook and cranny of the kitchen. Giovanni sighed heavily. "It's no use."

"Why don't you just ask her?" Frankie said, once they got back into her room.

"I can't. It's not something we do. If someone wants to give you something, they give it to you."

"Does she know you want it?"

"Of course. She keeps saying it's not her secret, it's Santa's secret."

"So, she's waiting for permission from the North Pole?"

"Could be." Giovanni pulled Frankie into an affectionate hug. " Mille grazie. You are a good sport."

"And you are a good son." She touched her earrings. "And a pretty, pretty, pretty good boyfriend." She gave him a big, smacking kiss on the lips, and patted him on the fanny. Giovanni returned the kiss before he made his way to the lower level, where he was assigned his sleeping quarters.