Friday
Stella woke up on Friday morning, remembering that Domenica mentioned Jacopo’s funeral would be held on Monday. If she was a suspect, could she even go to the service? It seemed disrespectful, to say the least.
She thought about Bruno and his wife at the funeral, burying their son without knowing who killed him and why. Her heart ached. They needed resolution.
At the thought, her stomach roiled. She knew she needed to eat, but she was too pent up. Her mind turned to the starter. She itched to get out of the house, but she couldn’t bear to come home to another batch of wasted flour.
Stella removed the towel over the bubbling starter, adding more flour and a sprinkle of salt and more yeast, plus a yogurt canister of sugar, and half a stick of butter, as well as two whole eggs and
