Henry Appleby has an appetite for life. As a recent high school graduate and the son of a wealthy family in one of Chicago’s affluent North Shore suburbs, his life is laid out for him. Unfortunately, though, he’s being forced to follow in the footsteps of his successful attorney father instead of living his dream of being a chef. When an opportunity comes his way to work in a real kitchen the summer after graduation, at a little Italian joint called Fiorello’s, Henry jumps at the chance, putting his future in jeopardy.<br><br>Years ago, life was a plentiful buffet for Vito Carelli. But a tragic turn of events now keeps the young chef at Fiorello’s quiet and secretive, preferring to let his amazing Italian peasant cuisine do his talking.<br><br>When the two cooks meet over an open flame, sparks fly. Both need a taste of something more -- something real, something true -- to separate the good from the bad and find the love -- and the hope -- that just might be their salvation.

Dinner at Fiorello's

“Fiorello, you little ciuccio. I was married to the man who started this restaurant for almost forty years.” She looked down, and when she looked up again, Henry saw that her eyes were brighter, wetter. “He passed last fall. Heart attack.” She put her hand over her own heart.


“Yeah, well that and a couple, three bucks will get you a cup of coffee.” She eyed him, smiling again. “You sure you wanna work here? Tell me why.”


Henry sat back in the chair, allowing himself a few seconds to think. The answer to her question could make or break him. He licked his lips and let it come out, trying not to worry if it was too much information or too little. “Maxine. She’s the woman who’s been our housekeeper and cook ever since I was a little boy.” He met Rosalie’s gaze and could tell she was already judging him even more—a lakefront house on the North Shore and now a full-time housekeeper. And cook! He held up his hand. “Just let me finish here.”


Chapter 12