Wednesday
Stella hardly remembered storming out of the bakery. She flew home and flung herself on her bed. Though she’d only planned to wait for her heartbeat to slow, the next thing she knew it was morning. An odd smell, like ripening gym socks, greeted her and she groaned, remembering the dough she’d left out to rise and then forgot about. She comforted herself by remembering that a proper colomba likely required a biga, an overnight starter, anyway. She’d try again later.
She inhaled a yogurt, which wound up being poor sustenance for her debate with Domenica.
“Domenica, I’m telling you. It was Antonio’s lame, it had to be.” Beams of light flickered across the floor of the bookshop as a patchwork of clouds filigreed the sunlight.
Domenica shook her head. “No way. I’ve known Antonio f
