Santa's Secret

Book 3: Santa's Crew

by Fern Michaels

Genres: Women's Fiction; Holiday Romance

Synopsis

Fern Michaels’ sparkling Christmas novels have become a holiday tradition in their own right, and fans will love the chance to spend the holidays in Italy with four high school friends and their loved ones in a tale perfect for those who love Mary Kay Andrews, Debbie Macomber, and RaeAnne Thayne. 

Christmas is filled with beloved and long-kept traditions, but sometimes, there’s nothing better than creating brand-new ones. That’s why Francesca and her high school friends Amy, Rachael, and Nina are traveling to Italy to spend the holidays with Frankie’s boyfriend, Giovanni, and his family. 

Giovanni and his brother, Marco, run a small Italian restaurant in Manhattan, where cherished family recipes delight tourists and locals alike. But there’s one recipe that eludes the brothers. Their mama refuses to divulge the special ingredient in her coveted panettone, claiming it is “Santa’s secret.”  

While Frankie joins Giovanni and Marco in the kitchen, hoping to uncover the mystery of Mrs. Lombardi’s mouthwatering panettone, Amy, Nina, and Rachael are on their own quests. Amy wants to see the statue of David in Florence, Nina needs career inspiration, and Rachael longs to meet some eligible Italian men. 

Can one trip provide the answers everyone seeks? With a stunning Italian backdrop and a sprinkling of holiday magic in the mix, there may be all kinds of sweet surprises in store…
 

Release date: September 24, 2024

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 304

Sample

Frankie’s Pitch

Frankie left work at six and walked down Fifth Avenue, imagining the Christmas decorations that would be in place while she was devouring mozzarella di bufala from real Italian Mediterranean buffalos. Eating the soft, buttery cheese was almost required by law when you were in Campania, with Salerno and Caserta being two of its biggest producers. Speaking of laws, she had read that buffalo mozzarella sold as mozzarella di bufala campana had been granted the status of denominazione di origine controllata, a controlled designation of origin for thirty years, authenticating the product. She was salivating just thinking about it.

By the time she arrived at her apartment, Bandit and Sweet P. were patiently waiting right inside the door. She often wondered how they knew she was in the building. Must be animal instinct. “Hello puddie-tats! Did you miss your mommy?” Bandit would invariably walk ahead of her, directing her to the kitchen—if you could call it a kitchen. In New York, a typical kitchen was so small, it was barely functional. Only large enough for one person at a time, there was a compact refrigerator that could only hold a couple of quarts of milk, a dozen eggs, a head of lettuce, and a stick of butter. Don’t even attempt to roast a turkey in the miniscule oven they provide. In fact, any type of cooking was nearly impossible. Frankie thought it was a conspiracy between landlords and restaurant owners. Every day, there was a new take-out menu under her door or in the lobby. She often teased Marco whenever she got a new menu from his restaurant.

Bandit was rubbing against her ankles, alternating between one leg then the other as Frankie opened the can of cat food. “I am going to squish you if you’re not careful.” This was a ritual with them. Bandit made sure Frankie couldn’t escape from his dinner plans. Sweet P. was simply happy to have a warm place, a cuddle-buddy with Bandit, and regular meals. “Why can’t you be polite, like Sweet P.?” Frankie would often ask. “Look at her, sitting patiently.” Bandit would answer with a meow, and head-bump her ankle. It always made Frankie chuckle. “How is it that two little furry creatures can make me so happy?” She placed their bowls on the floor as Sweet P. sauntered in, all ladylike. Even though Bandit was the first to stick his head in his dish, and the first to finish, he never tried to nudge Sweet P. from hers. “Why can’t people be this considerate?” Frankie said out loud.

She rinsed the empty can of cat food, placed it in the recycling bin, and washed her hands. Frankie often wondered if the city was actually doing any recycling. Did they really, honestly separate the glass from the metal? Sure, there were machines that could do it, but New York was a small area with a lot of people. A lot. Millions, in fact.

Her cell phone rang, pulling her from her trash can musings. It was Giovanni.

“Ciao, bella! Come stai?”

“Molto bene!” Frankie answered. She knew she was way behind in learning Italian. Better start practicing.

“Have you spoken to your friends about Italy?” Giovanni asked.

“I have a Zoom call with them in two hours.”

“Bene. I know someone who has a big house near ours. It’s in Baronissi, a few kilometers from my family home. It has four bedrooms, so your friends can stay there if they wanna. It’s about an hour to Amalfi, Sorrento, and Positano.”

“It sounds very convenient.” Frankie was impressed at how much Giovanni was looking after the travel prospects for everyone.

“Sì. And only thirty minutes from Pompeii,” Giovanni added. “They said we can trade apartments. They come-a here. We go-a there.”

“Gio, your accent has been rather apparent lately,” Frankie teased.

“Scusi?”

“Your accent. Thick. Like a block of Parmigiano-Reggiano,” she chuckled.

“Sorry. I’m excited for the plans.”

“We still have four months to go.” Frankie couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

“Yes, but we have to make-a the plans now. Time will be flying.”

“Very true.” Frankie paused. “I think I’ll be able to convince everyone that Italy would be the best place to spend New Year’s.”

“And you can tell them about all the fireworks. From Naples to Salerno. The sky is like-a diamonds, rubies, and emeralds.” Giovanni sounded like a kid who was about to go on his first field trip.

“So when will you and I leave?” Frankie was tapping her pen, ready to take notes.

“We have to help Mama shop a few days before.”

“And?” Frankie was waiting for Giovanni to give her an exact date and time. She was picky that way. “Details, please.”

“I’m-a think we should plan to arrive by the twenty-second. We leave the night before.”

Frankie checked her desk diary. The office would be closing the following day for the holidays. “Will that be enough time to get everything ready?” She knew not to question Giovanni when it came to planning meals, but she couldn’t help herself. “How many people are going to be there for Christmas Eve?”

Giovanni was counting in his head. “Maybe twenty. Christmas Day it will be people coming in and out, so Mama will have food ready for guests.”

Frankie was imagining a gastronomic exploration. “Seven fishes on Christmas Eve?”

“Sì, of course,” Giovanni replied.

“When do you think my parents should arrive?” Frankie sat with her pen poised.

“Maybe the twenty-third. Give them time to un-lag-a the jet.”

Frankie burst out laughing. “Jet lag.”

“Sì. My brain is working like a loco-motion. I cannot translate fast enough in my head,” he chuckled.

Frankie thought it was charming. “Alright. You and I will fly out on the twenty-first, and my folks will join us on the twenty-third.”

“Sì. Perfetto.”

Frankie checked the time. “I have to get going. I have a call with the girls in a few minutes. What time do you think you’ll be home?”

“Busy night. Maybe ten, ten thirty.”

“Okay. See you later. Wish me luck with my pals.”

“Buona fortuna. I have every confidence you will encourage them to join us in Italy. Ciao, bella.”

“Ciao, Gio,” Frankie ended the call. Everyone agreed to plan a trip, but the where hadn’t been decided. Rachael suggested Paris. Amy wanted to go to Switzerland, and Nina was longing for a palm tree. If Frankie did what she did best, everyone would be satisfied. She was a planner, and an organizer extraordinaire. It was no surprise Grand Marshall Publishing gave her the Cooking for a Cause imprint. With the celebrity-oriented mentality of her corporate supervisors in mind, she proposed a new concept of curating cookbooks that were attached to a celebrity with a charitable organization. She even came up with the logo: C4AC Books would be sold through the associations, which would then use the book as an incentive for donations. The publisher would also donate a portion of the proceeds to the charity. It was a windfall during the holidays, with every talk show clamoring for celebrity chefs to do on-air cooking demonstrations. It was also exhausting for Frankie and the publicity department. Lots of moving parts. The current year’s books would go on sale while the following year’s books were being turned in. But once the deluge was over, Frankie could take a little break, which was one of the reasons the trips had been planned between Christmas and New Year’s Eve.

This year she would be on an accelerated schedule, with arrangements during the cookbook releases, and the publicity spectacle with four publications hitting the stores the first week of October. Normally publishers do not publish big books up against each other, but cookbooks were always a hot item for gift-giving, and there was nothing more compelling than seeing a live demonstration showing how easy it is to create a fabulous meal, and, for a good cause. Of course, there was a slew of people in the wings slicing, dicing, and prepping at these events, but everyone wanted to see the celebrity chef create their special recipe.

Frankie even was able to get Giovanni onboard. After the trip to Lake Tahoe the year before, and the last-minute emergency dinner they prepared for sixty people, Giovanni decided there was a need for an instructional booklet to help people be better organized when they cooked. With the encouragement of Frankie, Giovanni and chef Mateo Castillo, one of Frankie’s authors and founder of the charity, Share a Meal, created an e-book to teach people how to prep before they started to cook.

“They’ll begin one part of the meal, but then have to prep the other items while trying to keep track of whatever is in the oven or the pan. It’s a mistake many people make,” Mateo wrote in the introduction. “Also, invest in a box of disposable nitrile kitchen prep gloves. A box of one hundred will cost less than ten cents apiece. It’s safer. But make sure you don’t get the baggy type. They slip off and you have less grip. You need good dexterity when you handle kitchen tools.”

Giovanni contributed, “To help make cleanup a little easier, cover the counter where you are working with wax paper.”

Frankie was the first to note that those little tips would be a favorite among aspiring kitchen wizards. Frankie was a superb ringmaster for her authors, but she was also quite skillful when it came to marketing. Giovanni and Mateo’s Food Prep 101 e-book was used as a free incentive if you bought any C4AC book. It was also available for $1.99 online, with the profits going to the individual charities. It was a great way to continue visibility for the organizations throughout the year, especially during any of the annual holidays when people cooked.

The alarm on Frankie’s phone buzzed, reminding her it was time for the Zoom call. Frankie had a habit of setting a timer when she was engrossed in a project. She could easily get lost in whatever she was working on, and before she knew it, she was late for a meeting, or dinner, or most things. She had an old-fashioned wind-up kitchen timer on her desk in her office. It was useful and quite appropriate.

She settled herself in lotus position in front of the coffee table and powered up her laptop. Then she clicked on the buttons enabling everyone else to log in. First up was Nina.

“Sweetcakes!” You couldn’t help but smile when you heard the words coming from Nina. “What’s happening, babe?”

Her curly hair was pulled back with a bandana, a look she often sported.

“Honey pie!” Frankie responded. “What’s shakin’?”

Nina did a little shake of her shoulders. “Just me, toots.”

“You sound like Rachael,” Frankie laughed, referring to their over-the-top friend who was known for her exaggerated gestures.

“Ah, but I didn’t say ‘hoochie-coochie,’” Nina joked. “Speaking of hoochie-coochie, there she is!”

Rachael’s slim face appeared, with her head wrapped in a fruit-laden turban. She was wide- and wild-eyed as usual, shaking a pair of maracas.

“Hola, chicas! Arriba! Arriba! Arriba!” Latin music was playing in the background as Rachael mamboed her way across the screen.

Frankie and Nina were rolling over with laughter. It’s good that some things never change. Before Rachael finished her footloose entertainment, Amy popped in, and immediately began to bounce in her chair. It was reminiscent of the days when the four of them were working on the high school plays. Pure fun.

Frankie pulled Bandit onto her lap and stood him on his hind legs. Her hands were under the cat version of armpits, swaying his paws back and forth to the music, without any objection from the furry feline. It appeared that he actually was enjoying himself as much as everyone else. Sweet P. looked at them and then at the laptop. Frankie was convinced Sweet P. rolled her eyes. After a few measures, Bandit decided he had enough humiliation and wiggled away from Frankie’s grip.

Amy noticed Bandit was now sitting next to Frankie’s cell phone. Laughing so hard, she could barely spew out the words, “Look out, Frankie! He’s calling the SPCA!”

At that point, all four women were howling; tears were running down their cheeks.

“You guys make my face hurt,” Amy giggled. She was finally pulling it together, but a moment later, they looked at one another and burst out laughing again. Man-o-man, it felt so good. Make that girl-o-girl.

Once they finally settled down, they brought one another up to speed with work, romance, and family matters.

Three of them had settled into a routine with their significant others, with the exception of Rachael, who drummed her fingers on her desk as she listened to their stories of domestic bliss.

Nina and Richard had a part-time situation. He had two offices—one was in Philadelphia and the other in New York—and split his time between them. Nina thought it was the perfect situation. “I only have to look at his socks on the floor a couple of times a week, instead of every day,” she joked.

“Oh, I can’t believe Richard would leave his socks on the floor,” Amy defended him.

“That’s just a euphemism for annoying habits,” Frankie chuckled.

“Oh. Right.” For a scientist, Amy was often in a fog when it came to pop culture and jargon. She was somewhat of an absent-minded professor. Her reading material usually consisted of technical journals and science magazines. She could tell you the names of the closest asteroids but could barely name any of the Kardashians, much to the relief of Frankie, Nina, and Peter. Better a brainiac than a social media/ celebrity junkie. Peter was also more cerebral than his friends, which made them well-matched. When Amy and Peter moved into their first apartment together, they transformed the den into a game room with a large square table in the middle to accommodate several jigsaw puzzles at the same time. Since then, they bought a townhouse with three bedrooms, and much more space for many more puzzles. They had gotten quite good at it and joined an international jigsaw club and were gearing up to enter a competition.

“A jigsaw competition?” Rachael asked sincerely.

“Yes, dear. Dancing isn’t the only thing where one can compete,” Nina teased.

“Yeah, yeah. Blah, blah, blah,” Rachael feigned annoyance. Rachael was still looking for “Mr. Right,” but at least she wasn’t desperate this time. She and Randy, the concierge from Lake Tahoe, forged a strong friendship, and Rachael persuaded her ex-boyfriend, a famous dancer, to help Randy find work on Broadway. Rachael enjoyed spending time with him and his friends dancing at clubs in New York when he wasn’t appearing in a show. Most of the time, she was the only heterosexual in the group, which seriously decreased her odds for dating prospects. In all honesty, she enjoyed all their fussing over her. When Nina asked about the absence of potential dating material, Rachael recounted with: “At least someone is paying attention to me!”

Frankie took the reins, as usual. “Okay, ladies. It’s time to plan our holiday escapades.”

Nina eyed Frankie. “So, babycakes, what do you have in mind?”

She knew Frankie too well to think she’d start a conversation without an agenda, but in a good way.

“Amy, you said you wanted to go to Switzerland.”

Amy began clapping. “Yes! I want to go to Geneva to see the Hadron Collider.”

“The what?” Rachael knitted her eyebrows.

“Hadron Collider. It’s the world’s most powerful particle accelerator. It established the existence of the Higgs boson—a subatomic particle thought to be a fundamental building block of the formation of the universe.”

Rachael placed her head on her table and pretended to snore.

“Very funny,” Amy said, smirking. “You’ve heard of the Big Bang Theory?”

Rachael lifted her head and was back on camera. “Yes. It was a TV show.”

Amy groaned. “Never mind. But it’s in Geneva.”

Frankie cleared her throat. “I am certain that I am not up for another snow-covered mountain adventure.”

Nina huffed, “And I want some kind of palm tree.”

“Anyone for Paris?” Rachael suggested.

Then all eyes were on Frankie. They knew she had to have something up her sleeve.

“Italy.” It was a statement instead of a question. Before anyone could interrupt, she went down her list of all the reasons why it was a good idea, including Amy’s trip to Geneva in her pitch. “We can all meet up on the Amalfi Coast.”

“Ooh . . . that sounds lovely,” Nina answered.

“And they have palm trees. And olive trees, and lemon trees,” Frankie added. “They say the gardens of the Amalfi Coast are some of the most beautiful in the world.” She paused for a response.

Nina knew Frankie had more to share. “Spill, girlfriend.”

“Giovanni wants to visit his mother for the holidays. He and Marco plan to close the restaurant for ten days so the staff can have a relaxing time with their families.”

“Oh, that’s so nice,” Amy cooed.

Frankie smiled. “Giovanni also found a couple who own a large house a few kilometers from his mother’s. They’re interested in trading ten days in New York for ten days at their home in Baronissi. They’re both professors at the University of Salerno, Baronissi campus. It’s well-situated as a home base for day trips; an hour drive to Sorrento and thirty minutes to Pompeii.” She waited again.

“So, we don’t have to worry about paying for a hotel?” Rachael asked. This time, her eyes were on full alert.

“That is correct. Unless you want to start in Florence or Rome and make your way down the coast.”

“This sounds great!” Nina was smiling from ear to ear.

“Plus, we’ll be with people who know where to go and what to do, and when to do it,” Frankie added. Her gift of persuasion seemed to be well at hand.

“I’m in!” Nina hooted.

“Me too. After Geneva.” Amy raised both fists in agreement.

“What about the men?” Rachael realized she would be the seventh wheel.

All eyes bounced from one face to the other.

“What if we have them meet us later in the week?” Frankie suggested. “That will give us girl time.”

“And a few days for Rachael to find a boyfriend!” Nina teased.

“Oh, shut it.” Rachael folded her arms. “It doesn’t matter as long as we can have some gal-pal adventures.”

“That’s the whole idea. Giovanni is going to be with his mother, his Aunt Lucia, his cousins, and his cousins’ kids, and who knows who else will want his and Marco’s attention. Plus Anita and the kids.”

“Where will you be staying?” Rachael leaned into her camera.

“Rosevita knows Giovanni and I are basically living together. Remember she spent years living in New York. Nothing can shock her.”

“And Aunt Lucia? Will she have something to say about it?” Nina asked out of curiosity. “Italian families can be tight and have a lot of influence on each other.”

“True. Lucia is her sister-in-law, so I don’t know the pecking order in this situation, although I know she’s a few years older. She was married to Giovanni’s father’s brother.” She took a deep breath. “I guess we’ll have to see how judgey they are.” Frankie rolled her eyes. “My folks will be staying at an Airbnb from the twenty-third to the twenty-sixth, and we know that they know, and that’s who matters to me. Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t want to cause any strife in Giovanni’s family, but as long as both our parents are okay with the arrangements, then questo è tutto. That’s that!” Frankie stated.

“This is so exciting!” Amy’s cheeks were getting rosier by the minute.

“So do you think your significant others would be onboard with this?” Frankie asked.

“I’m sure Richard would enjoy a few days of Italian gastronomy, and a peek at Pompeii and Herculaneum,” Nina said.

Professor Amy chimed in, “Did you know it took only twenty-four hours for Mt. Vesuvius’s eruption to bury Pompeii in pyroclastic material?” She nodded as if everyone knew that little tidbit of historic trivia.

“Pyro what?” Rachael asked.

“It’s a combination of fluidized hot rock fragments and gases. The temperature can reach over six hundred degrees Celsius, or eleven hundred degrees Fahrenheit.”

“Let’s change the subject, please,” Frankie urged and shuddered.

“But just so you know, the Italian government monitors the volcano’s seismic activity twenty-four hours a day through the Vesuvius Observatory. We’ll be alerted at least two weeks ahead should anything be of concern.”

“Thank you, professor. That’s a relief,” Nina interrupted, knowing Amy could go on about anything scientific.

“Sorry,” Amy said, blushing. If there was anyone who was enthusiastic about her work, it was Amy. It was all of them, actually, but she was the only one who could throw facts, figures, and mathematical formulas like Cy Young could throw a baseball. Fast and furious.

“Now, where were we?” Frankie looked down at her notes. “Okay, so the house will be available from December twenty-first to January third.”

“There’s a producer who I worked with a zillion years ago who lives in Milan now,” Nina said. “He’s been bugging me to visit. If he’s available, I’ll fly into Milan on the twenty-sixth, stay for two days, and take a train to Naples on the twenty-ninth. Italia Rail has a high-speed train. Takes about five hours, but I’ll be able to see the countryside.”

“Five hours doesn’t seem like high-speed.” Rachael pursed her lips.

“There’ve been times when it’s taken me almost five hours to drive from Ridgewood to Midtown Manhattan, which is only twenty-four miles. And I can tell you, the view from the turnpike overpass ain’t pretty,” Nina replied.

“You’ve got a point,” Rachael answered.

Frankie turned to Amy’s face on the screen. “What say you?”

“I say I shall contact the head of my department and ask him if he would please reach out to someone in Geneva to get me a visitor’s pass to the Hadron Collider.”

“Perfect.” Frankie was grinning. Two down, one more to go. “Rachael?”

“If you gals don’t mind, I’d like to invite Randy. He’s always fun, and he doesn’t start rehearsals for the next play until first week of February.”. . .