“What are you making?”
“Venezuelan arepas. They’re a griddle-fried corn cake. Sweeter and a little milder than regular corn tortillas. You’ll love the sandwiches, trust me. Let me do my thing.”
“No mice in the house, right?” Leone said.
She laughed. “You boys are so easy.”
“That’s what I thought. And no wires.”
“Not to my knowledge.” She added a few drops of barbecue sauce to the pork and heated it on low in the oven.
“You took ten years off my life, Brielle,” Raimondo accused.
“I’ll make it up with dinner.” She began shaping the arepas into round disks nearly an inch thick and a good three to three and a half inches wide. Once she had them made up, she heated a light amount of vegetable oil in the skillet and placed the arepas into the oil, turning the heat down to medium-low. She wanted them crispy brown on each side, but not overcooked. It took only three to four minutes to brown on each side. She cooked all of them.
“I hope you really like these. They’ve always been a favorite of mine.” She sliced open the arepas, spread them with mayonnaise and then a generous helping of the pulled pork. She added lime, cilantro and garlic along with a slice of tomato. “Try that. If you don’t like it, I can make you a regular sandwich with just the pork.” She made herself a sandwich from the arepas and sat at the dining table with a bottle of water.
Leone had already wolfed his down. “Where do you learn to make this kind of thing, Brielle?”
“I like cooking. When I like something, I tend to spend a lot of time researching it and trying to find people who will help me learn the things I want to know. I’m fairly good at researching so I can usually get in touch with the right people pretty quickly. I don’t like to waste my time.”
“I watched how you made this. Stay there, I’m going to make a couple more.” He got up and went to the counter to fix himself two more sandwiches.
Brielle smiled, shaking her head. It was a good thing she’d made plenty. They really could eat. Raimondo joined Leone in the kitchen, making more sandwiches for their dinner.
Shadows were lengthening outside. She liked this time of day, although she had a view of the gardens and trees, not so much the lake from the dining room. She could see the front of the house and all the surrounding landscaping. She and Elie spent so much time outside in the back on the patio watching the beauty of the lake that she had all but forgotten they had the other side.
Finishing her sandwich, she studied the trees as they swayed in the breeze. The leaves turned and spun like dancers, glittering as the last rays of the sun fell over them, showing the dazzling colors of fall. She found it mesmerizing to see one side of a leaf appear orange and the other side green or gold. Somewhere in that thick expanse of trees, on the property that Elie had purchased, there was a hidden road that ran between Dario’s home and theirs. You needed a four-wheel drive to use it, but it had been built between the two properties recently.
Valentino and Emmanuelle’s home lay on the other side of Dario’s. If Brielle hadn’t promised Elie she would stay put, she would have been tempted to explore. She’d been here awhile now and hadn’t really gone to see either place. Nor had she seen much of anything in Chicago for that matter. When she was with Elie, the isolation didn’t bother her. She enjoyed just spending time with him, getting to know him. But when he was away, she wanted to begin establishing her own life. Go out, find little places she enjoyed going to on her own. She’d always been independent. She would have to talk to him about that.
“You’re sighing. Loudly,” Leone observed.
Raimondo cleared the dishes from the dining table. He shot her a quick, worried look. “What’s up, babe?”
She shook her head. “I just need to start learning my way around the lake and my neighbors’ properties. I’m looking at maps, of course, but it isn’t the same thing as actually going places and seeing where everything is with my own eyes. Maps aren’t always correct, especially if they’re old.”
“You have plenty of time,” Leone said. “Are you planning on working from home? I thought you’d decided not to take rotations as a rider. At least, that was what Elie indicated.”
Brielle wasn’t certain why she felt ashamed in front of the two men. They were Ferraros. Cousins of the Ferraros, but Ferraros. Riders were guarded fiercely. They were considered the most necessary of all family members because they kept everyone safe. There were very few of them and they dedicated their entire lives to being riders. A rider rarely chose whom they were able to marry; they led a life of duty. They certainly didn’t get to say they didn’t want to take rotations when they were needed. Everyone knew all capable riders were needed.