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

And Vito, once more, felt like kicking himself. “No, no. I’msorry. Sorry I made you feel bad when the things you’ve seen—my son’s toys, his pictures on the bookcase, my husband’s photograph—were all left out for you to see.” Vito shrugged. “I guess I never really thought anyone would come here and see my life on display.” He nodded toward the refrigerator to indicate the watercolor scene held to its surface by a magnet. It was crude but showed some real style. There were two mountains of snow with a little house in between, a dark night sky with flakes falling. “Like that. It reminds me of Sal. He made that for me. How could I ever get rid of it?”


Henry licked his lip and then shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He stared harder into Vito’s eyes.


Chapter 72