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

“I saw you. That night. I saw you watching me.”


Henry sat up again and regarded his mother. There was something plaintive in her expression, something wounded and vulnerable. He was hoping he was mistaken and she was talking about something else, but he knew she wasn’t.


She swallowed, and he watched the movement of her throat, as if the act was difficult.


“That’s nice.” Henry turned away, staring at the darkness pressing in against the glass of the windows. “We really don’t have to talk about this.” Henry felt what little food he had eaten that night begin to roil and churn in his stomach. Acid splashed against the back of his throat, bitter and caustic.


He winced and pulled away when his mom laid a hand upon his arm.


Chapter 55