Page 39 of My Big Fat Italian Break-Up

‘Erica, no! It could be dangerous for their guests.’

‘It’s only food coloring. What do you think I am, a monster?’

‘And a vindictive one at that,’ he groaned.

‘And don’t you forget it. Unscrew that one, too.’

‘Is this really necessary?’ he hissed.

‘How would you like it if a rival company just round the corner called itself Menus and Venues and suddenly started stealing your business and contacts? Starting with Chef Alberto…’

Paul’s face transformed back to his usual bitchy stance. ‘Gimme that jar.’

I grinned. ‘Attaboy.’

And with that, he unscrewed the lid and poured the contents into the water with an almighty woosh. Immediately, it turned a dark red, swirling, and I remembered the scene in The Ten Commandments movie when the waters of the Nile turned to blood. Oh, yeah! That would teach them.

They’d really need Moses to fix things up around here by the time I finished with them. Served them right for trying to mess with my business and my family’s happiness. The wrath of Erica Cantelli had just been unleashed. And I hadn’t even started yet.

That night, I slept as soundly as an innocent babe in a basket cradled by the Nile river.

*

The next morning, the owners of our rival B & B, Mr. and Mrs. Copycat Casciani, came to a skid by the pool to join the wannabe swimmers with towels flung around their necks staring down in disgust. Blending with the other guests, Paul and I, hands on hips and tsk-tsking like the rest, stole a glance at our enemies, who were scratching their heads in dismay.

Within the next five minutes, the hotel would empty completely. Better get a move on and beat the crowd out of here.

‘And our work here is done,’ I whispered in triumph.

But to be totally, completely honest, I did feel a twinge of guilt. I never meant to hurt their business. I was only trying to protect mine. After all, they were the ones who had attacked us. Personally. Viciously. Come on, even you… Would you just stand by and do absolutely nothing, with a lousy lawyer and the Health and Safety Department on your back through absolutely no fault of your own? No, I didn’t think so, either.

We turned to go, but a shriek stopped us in our tracks.

‘Il sangue di Cristo! E’ un miracolo!’ Christ’s blood! A miracle! a female voice cried and I whirled round, looking for the idiot who could say something so, so stupid.

No, no, no, you got it all wrong! I wanted to scream as people moved closer to the pool, some dropping to their knees and crossing themselves, murmurs and gasps now filling the area. It’s supposed to be blood, yes, but not Christ’s!

My plan had backfired catastrophically. It served me right, in a sense, but now it was too late for repentance, so I grabbed Paul’s sleeve and we split the scene, and in five minutes we were in my Fiat 500L on the way home.

‘And stop laughing already!’ I growled as Paul wiped his eyes.

‘Man oh man! Only you could think of something so crazy.’

‘It’s not crazy. My plan was good. Great, in fact. It simply backfired and blew up in my face. Now, everybody thinks that the place is blessed or holy.’

Paul made an effort to put on a serious face, but the mirth was still there, under his facial muscles, threatening to take over again. He always had a great sense of humor, my Paulie.

‘So, what are you gonna do?’

‘I don’t know yet, but I’m nowhere near done, I promise you.’

Thanks to my idiocy, a recalcitrant ally, a bit of food coloring and a thirst for vengeance, Tasting Tuscany had now actually become holy ground. And I’d been the one to consecrate it in two seconds flat.

‘Who’s going to tell Julian now?’ I muttered.

‘I sure as hell ain’t,’ he said. ‘How did you think that you could sabotage a business with a little food coloring?’

I glared at him. ‘How was I supposed to know I’d be consecrating the damn joint?’

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