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Malocchio was usually cast by a jealous person. Perhaps she wasn’t so far off in accusing the pastry chefs—who had visited her and claimed she had a secret ingredient that she was loath to share—of being jealous?
    â€œ Basta! Enough! It is just a cake and nothing more!”
    â€œ Sorella Agata, stai bene? ” Madre Carmela stood before her, looking concerned.
    â€œ Si, si, Madre. Just talking out loud—as usual. I am fine. There is nothing to worry about.” She managed a smile for the elderly nun.
    Madre Carmela had been the mother superior at the convent and the head pastry chef of the shop until 1985, when she relinquished both roles to Sorella Agata. The success of the pastry shop had begun with Madre Carmela and, as such, she would always hold a special place in the convent. It saddened Sorella Agata to see the senior nun’s increasingly failing health due to her dementia and rheumatoid arthritis. But Madre Carmela still insisted on doing whatever she could manage in the pastry shop’s kitchen.
    â€œSignorina Lombardo is waiting for you in the courtyard. She was worried you had forgotten since you were supposed to meet at four.”
    Sorella Agata glanced at the large round clock that hung above their pantry. It was fifteen minutes past the hour. She wasn’t that late, but she supposed the writer was anxious to get her work started.
    â€œI’ll be there shortly.”
    â€œShall I let her know?”
    â€œNo, that’s all right, Madre Carmela.”
    The old nun’s gaze wandered around the kitchen, as she tried to assess what she could do. Sorella Agata tried to give her work that wouldn’t be too taxing. She noticed a batch of Ravioli di Ricotta —Sweet Ricotta Turnovers—that had just been fried and were draining on a plate of paper towels.
    â€œMadre, those ravioli need to be dusted with powdered sugar.”
    â€œ Si. I will do so right away.” Madre Carmela walked slowly over to the pantry, where she located the powdered sugar. She then took a small fine-meshed sieve off one of the many hooks that hung around the kitchen’s walls and held various cooking instruments from pans to colanders. Sorella Agata watched her as she transferred the drained sweet ravioli to a decorative serving platter. With shaky hands, she used the mesh sieve to sprinkle the powdered sugar over the fried pastries. Sorella Agata had no doubt there would be uneven clumps of sugar on the ravioli. But Madre Carmela was the only worker in the pastry shop from whom she did not expect perfection. Sorella Agata wondered how much longer Madre Carmela would be able to continue helping out in the kitchen.
    Turning her thoughts away from Madre Carmela, she checked on the anise cookies in the oven. About five more minutes until they were ready. Spotting Veronique, one of their apprentices in the pastry shop, walking by in the corridor with a pile of just laundered towels, Sorella Agata called out to her.
    â€œVeronique! Can you please come here?”
    Veronique was only nineteen years old, but she was very devoted to her work in the pastry shop. Her stunning good looks often led others to believe she was older, and while she was bright and intelligent, she still had a certain naïveté about her, especially in her habit of asking too many questions or slightly inappropriate ones. Sorella Agata credited this to her immense curiosity, which got the better of her at times, and she prayed in time Veronique would improve. But she could never be irate with her. For the young woman held a very special place in her heart, and even the other nuns had a soft spot for her. They all thought of her as their little sister, even though she had no intention of taking vows to become a nun.
    â€œSorella Agata, who is that beautiful woman sitting in the courtyard?”
    One would think that with Veronique’s inquisitive nature, she would have known by now that Claudia was