Recipe for Disaster (35 page)

Emily returns, handing me a latte, and Schatzi jumps up lightly onto the window seat and curls up in the little bit of sun that is coming through the window. I love how it brings out the reddish undertones of the chestnut finish on the cabinetry in here, the patina of over one hundred years is a glow you just cannot fake or replicate. I accept the coffee gratefully, and walk Emily through the process for the leather. She wasn’t here when I did the dining room hutches, so I’m a little nervous to let her help; we have almost no extra leather and can’t afford to make any mistakes. I want her to watch me do a couple before I let her jump in. She sits down and waits patiently for me to walk her through my process. With the first piece of leather, I flip it over and carefully mark off the cuts I need to make on the back side with a fine-tip Sharpie. With a leather knife and a metal straightedge, I make the cuts slowly and carefully. When all of the pieces are cut, I dry fit them into the first cabinet, to make sure they are perfect. Thankfully, they are, and I’m able to use a small foam roller to apply the glue to the back of the hides, and to the inside of the cabinet. We’ll have to wait a half an hour for the glue to dry, so that when I go to apply the leather, the two glue surfaces will create an instant bond.

“I’ve got lunch plans, if that’s okay?” Emily says, checking her watch.

“Of course, I’ll be doing this all day. Have fun.” Emily heads out for her lunch, and I stand in the room just letting its beauty sink in.

“Lunch?” a voice says right behind me, making me yelp.

“LIAM! For the love of all that is holy can you PLEASE stop sneaking up on me like that?”

“Sorry, lass.” He grins, which lets me know he isn’t sorry in the least. “Just came up to check the plans about something.”

I take a deep breath and wait for my pulse to slow. “What do you want for lunch?”

“Jag and I were talking about maybe needing a little Persian fix. What do you think?”

“I think I will do an order to Noon O Kabab, and then take the dog for a walk. Can you keep an ear out for the doorbell?”

“Will do.”

I grab my iPad and log in to the restaurant website and place an order for hummus, baba ghannouj, spicy pomegranate wings, and skewers of chenjeh, koubideh, and lamb. The combination of grilled marinated rib eye, minced spiced beef, and tender lamb should be plenty for three hungry worker bees, with Persian rice and grilled vegetables, chunks of feta, and their delicious large pita breads. I log out and grab Schatzi’s leash, ignoring that keeping her waiting has put the ultimate look of disapproval on her face. I open the front door, and am hit with a blast of hot air. August in Chicago is just miserable. If you can’t be inside with air-conditioning, or lying in a cold pool, there is no point.

“Good lord, dog, let’s make it a quick one, okay?”

We head across the street to the park, where Schatzi finds a sprightly Boston terrier to strike up a conversation with. The two of them are playing happily, as I find a bit of shade under one of the large trees that line the park.

“Is he yours?” I turn to find myself facing directly into a torso. I look up the seemingly endless length of person to finally find a kindly face somewhere a long expanse above my head.

“She. Is. Yes. And her new friend?”

“Mine. Beanie.” He is probably fortysomething; there are a few glints of silver in the dark hair that clings to his well-shaped head. He has got to be six five or six six, and I am proud of myself that I resist the urge to ask if he plays basketball, which my girlfriend Amita once told me was a truly horrible borderline-racist thing to ask a tall African American gentleman.

“Your mother named you Beanie?” flies out of my mouth without warning.

He laughs. “My mother named me Jacob. I named the dog Beanie.”

I can feel my face turning red. “Right. I’m Anneke. She’s Schatzi.”

“
Sehr schön zu zwei schönen Damen zu erfüllen
,” he says.

“Excuse me?”

“Anneke, Schatzi? I went with German.”

“You’d be right, but I don’t know the language. You seem to speak beautifully. Did you just order the sauerbraten?”

“I said it was nice to meet two lovely ladies.”

I think I must be blushing purple by now. “Well, it is nice to meet you too, Jacob. How do you come to speak such beautiful German?”

“My grandmother is German.” I must have a blank face, and I’m sure he has answered questions about his heritage forever. “My granddad was a GI in World War II, Tuskegee Airman, and he became friendly with a German family while he was there. Turns out the nanny for the family was actually a young German Jewish girl that they were hiding in plain sight. They fell in love, he married her, and brought her back to Chicago after the war.”

“Wow. That is amazing. My family were also German Jews, but they got out before the occupation. We could be cousins!”

“Anything’s possible, are you part black?” he says with a wicked grin.

“Couldn’t you tell?” I fluff my hair at him.

We laugh, and Schatzi and Beanie come running over to where we are, clearly overheated from playing in the brutal sun. Jacob takes out a bottle of water and kneels on the ground, pouring water into his large hand and letting both dogs get a drink.

“Thank you, I didn’t think to bring water for her. It is horrific out here.” I can feel sweat trickling down my back.

“My pleasure. So are we neighbors?”

“Depends. Where do you live?”

He gestures down the block, about eight houses from mine, a gorgeous redbrick building that appears to be the same era as my old girl.

“We’re in the little castle right across the way.”

“I love that building.”

“I’m actually a builder, we’re converting it to single family, will hopefully be flipping it sometime later this year.”

“Very interesting. I’m actually a real estate broker; when you’re ready to get it on the market, I’d be delighted to help.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card.

“I don’t have a card to offer you right now, I’m afraid, but I will call you for sure when we are ready to list.”

“Wonderful. I’ll look forward to it.” He leans down and attaches Beanie’s leash, rubs Schatzi’s head. “Maybe Beanie and I will see you in the park again.”

“We’d like that.”

He reaches out his hand, which completely engulfs mine. I can’t help but be aware of how clammy my hand must be; I’m sweating from every pore.

We walk across the street together, and Schatzi and I go into our yard as Jacob and Beanie keep heading up the block. Schatzi has a little spring in her step, and I feel bad.

“Don’t get too attached, little girl. Our days here are numbered.”

W
hen I get back in the house, I’m shocked to hear raised voices coming up from the basement. Schatzi and I stand at the top of the stairs, listening to the latest British/Irish hostilities.

“I saw you! I was at the movies the other night, and saw you with that girl,” Liam says.

“It’s not what you think,” Jag says. “She’s a friend. Anneke knew I was out with her, she was invited to join us.”

“Well, if it’s not her, it’s something. I was upstairs this morning; I saw that pullout bed open in the den. You can tell me it’s because you snore all you want, but there is something shady happening here, man, and I will not be in the middle of it.”

Crap. Emily slept out last night; Jag must have forgotten to pack up his bed.

“Then perhaps you should stay out of it altogether.”

“I can’t stay out of it. Anneke has been my friend for almost ten years. She had the rug pulled out from under her with that idiot Grant, she’s dealing with this house and her future, and you came along in her most vulnerable moment and swooped her up. You married her in like ten minutes for chrissakes! And she really loves you, man, I can tell. So all I’m saying is you had better be up for that. Because as much as I like you, I will fucking kill you if you hurt that girl.” I can’t help but smile at this, listening to Liam stick up for me, even though my heart breaks for poor Jag having to be on the receiving end.

“It isn’t my intention to hurt her. I promise that nothing bad is going on between us, and I’m not doing anything that would be hurtful for her.”

“Okay.”

“Liam? Thank you for looking out for her; it makes me happy to know she has you on her side.”

“Fine.”

Then I hear what sounds very much like muffled slapping, and I assume some sort of bonding ritual is going on down there. My two protectors.

The doorbell rings, and I yell down that the food has arrived. But when I open the door, Jacob is standing there holding the bag. “Delivery,” he says.

“Now that is a surprise.”

“I was heading back this way, and hijacked your lunch. I thought maybe you’d give me a tour.”

“You real estate moguls, you’re relentless.”

“Yep.”

On the one hand, I sort of don’t want Jacob to leave. But I realize that I’m not quite ready for this step. “It’s lovely of you to want a tour, but I’m not totally feeling ready for it. And now is a bad time anyway, I’ve got some time-sensitive stuff on the docket today. Will you take a rain check?”

“Absolutely. I didn’t mean to be pushy, I just love old places like this, and the minute you said you were fixing it up, I just couldn’t wait to get a peek.”

“I promise, if you can be patient just for a few weeks, you can come look.”

“Deal.”

“How much was the lunch?”

“My treat. For the intrusion.”

“I couldn’t possibly.”

“You can, and I hope you will. Beanie and I are in the park pretty much every morning around eleven. Maybe we’ll see you.”

“Sounds good. Thanks for lunch.”

“My pleasure.”

Jacob leaves just as Liam and Jag come up the stairs.

“My favorite wife!” Jag makes a point of coming over to me and giving me a big wet kiss right on the mouth. I play along, but can’t help but notice when we pull away that Liam is looking at Jag with barely concealed distrust.

“My goodness, are you boys sure you’ve been installing a wine cellar and not just hiding in the basement drinking wine?”

“Sober as a judge, boss,” Liam says. “And starving.” He takes the bag from me, and Jag and I follow him upstairs to the kitchen. And within minutes, the three of us are elbow deep in spicy meats and perfumed rice, and things are peaceful.

I
’m just mashing the potatoes when Jag comes downstairs after his shower. Thankfully, I got to the place in Gemma’s journal where she explained the need to handle potato mashing delicately so that they don’t go gummy, and ever since, while they aren’t the magical pillowy, fluffy, buttery spuds that Caroline produces, at least they are no longer a substitute for Spackle. I’ve got the salmon steaks in the steamer, and broccolini on the stovetop cooking in chicken stock with shallots and lemon.

“Smells delicious, Anneke, you’re really becoming a good cook,” Jag says, sticking a finger in the potatoes. “Mmm.”

I swat at him with the spatula I’m about to use for the fish. “I heard you and Liam get into it earlier.” Even though I know Emily is downstairs in the shower and we’ll hear her heavy clomping tread way before she could overhear anything we say, we still speak in hushed tones.

“Oh. Sorry about that. He showed up early while I was still in the shower and hadn’t made up my bed yet; never occurred to me he’d go up there. And apparently he spotted me and Nageena at the movies last week.”

“Well, I think you handled it fine. I’m just sorry he got in your face about it.”

“He was right to. He doesn’t know about our arrangement; all he sees is someone who might be using his friend or potentially being deceitful to her. I’m glad he poked at me. The more people on your side, the happier I am.”

I grab the plates and serve us each up a salmon fillet, a scoop of potatoes, some spears of broccolini. We each grab a paper napkin from the pile on the counter, forks and knives from the pint glasses where we keep them, and sit down at the breakfast bar.

“Maybe we should spend more time together, especially when Liam is around. He’s here a lot of evenings; I guess he is just noticing how separate our social lives are, how many nights I stay to work and you go out. And you and he are usually working together, instead of you and me. I think for the time being we should pair up more, at least when he is here.”