Salvatore

9. I be up in the gym just working on my fitness

The next morning, I'm talking with my mom on the phone when I walk into the kitchen and stop dead in my tracks.

"Mom, I'm gonna call you back, there's a person in my kitchen."

"What?" She screams.

"Relax, if I don't call you back in ten minutes, then you can freak out. Okay?" I don't wait for her response. "Love you, bye." I hang up and put my phone in my pocket.

"Um, hi." I say to the woman in my kitchen.

She's an old italian woman, kinda short and wearing a clean white short sleeve dress. She smiles warmly at me. Her hair is in a tight bun.

"Hello," she says warmly. "I'm Ana, you must be Martina." with that she pulls me into a tight hug.

I awkwardly hug her back. "Umm it's Marty, you're the chef, right?"

"Mmm hmm," She releases me but still holds me in her arms. "Look at you, have you been eating properly? Sit down, I'm making you breakfast." she ushers me to the bar stool.

"You don't need to do all that," I protest. "I can make breakfast, I lack the skills for anything else though."

She places her hands on her hips. "Poor child, what have you been eating all this time? Dante probably wasn't feeding you, poor thing," she shakes her head. "No worries, Ana is here now, and you will be well fed."

She moves around the kitchen like a seasoned veteran, pulling out pots and pans and ingredients. She pauses to look at me. "Call your mother, she's going to worry."

I do as she says, and FaceTime my mom to reassure her that I'm okay. Ana comes over and introduces herself to my mom too and somehow, the two of them bond over some soap opera they both watch and talk for thirty minutes.

When they hang up, I look at Ana while I shovel into my eggs. "So, what's your story? Like, how'd you end up working here?"

She smiles at me, as she cleans up around her. "I was hired by Dante's grandfather and have been with the family ever since."

"Cool," I say. "So you're aware that-"

"Mafia stuff?" she asks. "Yes, I am."

"I was gonna say that your employer is insane, but that works too," I say. "Out of curiosity, how does a person even end up working for the mafia? Do they, like, post an ad saying 'chefs wanted' or something?"

She laughs. "You're not very far off. I had just moved to this country with my six childre-"

"Six?" I ask in disbelief. "Get it girl."

She grins at me. "I did, how you say get it, back in the day."

"Ana," I shout in delight. I can tell that we're going to get along.

She looks at me, a twinkle in her eye.

"Anyways as I was saying, my husband had passed away, rest his soul, he was involved in the mafia too, but was a low ranking member. Dante's grandmother took pity on me and pleaded with her husband to give me a job. He agreed to let me be the chef and nanny to his children. And here I am years later."

"Wow," I say. "Are your six kids in the mafia?" I'm still wrapping my head around the six kids part.

She nods. "My boys are, my girls are in the FBI. Family dinners are rather awkward."

"I can imagine," I pick up my plate to take it to the sink. She swats my arm and takes the plate from me.

I help her clean up the rest of the stuff, much to her protestations before heading up to my room.