He was muttering curses to himself and cutting away excess dough, storing it in lidded containers when Georgina came down the stairs.
“Mmm, coffee,” she said, picking them up off the table.
“One of those is mine,” said Dante, glaring at his sister.
“Nope.” Georgina took a sip from one cup and took the other one and the bag of madeleines upstairs.
“Thanks for refrigerating the pizza dough,” Dante called after her. He kicked himself for not taking care of it before he left.
Dante spent the next half hour checking in deliveries from the truck and doing other menial tasks before Georgina and Pop came back downstairs from the office.
“This is my son, Dante. He’s the assistant manager and the best pizza chef in the world,” said Pop.
Dante’s back was turned to the dining room and he leaned
