Elena kissed Mr Conti lightly on each cheek. ‘We’re so excited to be here,’ she said with a knowing smile and a nod towards Stefano. ‘As you can see.’
‘You wear the kilt well, young man,’ said Mr Conti, shaking Stefano’s hand. ‘All you need now is a sporran.’
Stefano frowned. ‘Spor-ran?’
‘Aye, a sporran. It’s a wee bag to keep your phone, money and keys in.’
Stefano eyed Mr Conti with suspicion.
Elena sighed. ‘I bought him a smart suit, but he insists on wearing the kilt to the book launch this evening.’
‘Perfect!’ Mr Conti said, high-fiving him. ‘Stefano will represent the bond we are promoting tonight between Italy and Scotland. Our very own Clan Italia.’
Tapping his watch he continued, ‘Now I will take you to your hotel. A car will pick you up at six-thirty and bring you to Sarastro & Salieri.’
Lucy stood proudly behind the display of cakes and raised her glass. ‘Salute! Here’s to a job well done, team!’
‘Salute!’
‘Un momento!’ yelled Matteo, reaching for his phone. ‘Group photo! Smile please.’
‘Salute!’
‘I will send to Elena.D’accordo? Agreed?’
‘Good idea, Matteo. It’ll reassure her we haven’t burned the place down,’ said Lucy, a ghost of a smile drifting across her floury face. ‘Now, go home and get some rest, everyone. We have another busy day tomorrow. The first factory tour is at—’ she checked the iPad – ‘ten, then eleven-thirty, one o’clock, and every table at the teashop is reserved from two until five thirty. So drink up and get out of here.’
‘What about…?’ said Valentina, pointing to the oven.
Lucy eyed the clock. ‘The Dundee cake will be done in just under ten minutes. No point in you all waiting. I’ll lock up. Nowvai! Go!Buona notte!’
‘I give you a lift back to the apartment,sì?’ said Matteo, untying his apron.
Lucy shook her head. ‘Thank you, but go and get some rest. I’ll take a cab.’
‘But—’
‘Good night, Matteo.Sogni d’oro.’
He shrugged and blew her a kiss. ‘Sogni d’oro.’
Lucy rubbed a hand over the back of her neck. Today had been a good day. Her granny had always said that there was a certain magic in the alchemy of mixing sugar, flour, eggs and butter which brings people together. Today had been proof of that. Music and laughter had accompanied the clank and clatter of the cake mixer, bringing with it a sense of well-being and relief. Okay, so it was only Day One of flying solo, but so far so good. Her thoughts then turned to Elena.
The cookbook launch would be in full swing by now.
She smiled inwardly, grateful that ‘Operation Teashop’ had worked and that Elena, Stefano and Alfonso were now in Glasgow, picking up where Giancarlo had left off, ensuring his dream was kept alive.
How to recruit extra staff during Elena and Alfonso’s absence had been percolating away in Lucy’s subconscious for several weeks.
Funny isn’t it, how sometimes a solution to a problem can present itself when you stop trying so hard…
Post-ceilidh, the students’ passion for all things Scottish had skyrocketed; they couldn’t get enough of misty hills, glens, tartan, castles, Gaelic, traditional songs, the Highlands – and of course,Outlander.
‘What mean “the high road and the low road”?’ one of the students had asked one day, studying her ‘Loch Lomond’ sheet music.
‘It’s a rather sad song, Martina,’ Lucy replied, giving secret thanks that she’d done her homework the night before. ‘It’s about The Battle of Culloden…’
‘Cull-oden?’
