Dante leans close to me, his chest brushing my back.

"No one who sees you here could ever doubt that this is what you were born to do," he says in a husky tone. "It shines through you. It's visible in every brick in this place. And, no doubt, through every bit of food that comes out of this kitchen." He leans even closer, looking down over my shoulder. "What is it you said you were making?"

How could such a simple, ordinary question sound so ...