Chapter 6 - The Last Recipe
Twenty-six days after that first bowl, Enzo turned thirty-five.
Full control of Rosa Castellan’s trust transferred to him.
The final documents contained one sealed envelope.
His mother’s handwriting was on the front.
For Enzo. When he is finally ready.
He sat alone for nearly an hour before opening it.
Then he went downstairs.
Laney was testing recipes.
“You look terrible,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He handed her the letter.
“I can’t read this alone.”
Her teasing vanished.
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
She took the letter.
Rosa had written it shortly before her death.
She told Enzo that power without purpose would eventually turn into a prison.
She had created the trust because she wanted the Castellan name to mean something besides fear.
And she mentioned one child.
A messy-haired girl who stood on a crate and listened to sauce simmer.
Laney stopped reading.
Her hand covered her mouth.
Enzo looked up sharply.
“What?”
“She wrote about me.”
“Continue.”
Laney struggled through the next lines.
Rosa believed the girl would become a wonderful cook.
If life gave her the chance.
Enzo stared at Laney.
For once, neither had anything clever to say.
Finally Laney whispered:
“She remembered me.”
“Yes.”
“I thought maybe I mattered more to her in my memory than I did in hers.”
“You mattered.”
Laney wiped her cheek.
Enzo looked away to give her privacy.
She laughed softly.
“You’re terrible at comforting people.”
“I’m aware.”
“You could say something.”
“I gave you a job.”
“That is not comforting.”
“I gave you an excellent salary.”
“Still not comforting.”
He sighed.
Then crossed the kitchen.
His hand, covered in dark ink, rested gently over hers.
“My mother saw something in you when you were a child.”
Laney looked at him.
“So do I.”
This time she didn’t joke.
The kitchen door opened.
Juny entered with a mobility instructor.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Laney immediately pulled her hand away.
“No.”
Juny smiled.
“Interesting. Your voice went up.”
“Juny.”
Enzo cleared his throat.
Juny turned toward him.
“You must be the scary boss.”
“Apparently.”
“My sister talks about you.”
“Juny!”
Enzo raised an eyebrow.
“Does she?”
“Constantly.”
“I do not.”
Juny grinned.
“Her voice is going up again.”
Enzo smiled.
A real one.
Laney stared at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’ve never seen you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Look human.”
Juny laughed.
“I like him.”
Enzo looked at Laney.
“I like your sister.”
“Both of you are impossible.”
For the first time in fifteen years, Enzo celebrated his birthday in a kitchen.
May you like
And for the first time in years, it felt like home.
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