Recipe for Disaster (44 page)

Jag turns back to his parents. “We are sorry, we wanted to tell you, but we didn’t know how. I dearly wish that you could have met both Anneke and Nageena under different circumstances, my best friend and my true love, but that just cannot be. Whatever you think of me for abandoning the career you wanted for me, I will not let you blame Anneke for your disappointment, or make her feel bad for her unselfish act of friendship.”

Nageena blushes deeply, and I smile at her and mouth,
I’m so happy for you.
Which makes her smile back at me. I wait for them to explode, or to storm out, but then the most unexpected thing happens.

Bahula bursts into tears and comes over to me. She reaches out her hands and I take them, and she pulls me into her embrace. She’s very strong for a wee little thing, and I receive the hug gratefully and return it genuinely. “You are an angel, sent from heaven to help my son, and so you will always be my daughter.” She holds my face in her hands and beams. Then she turns and reaches a hand out for Nageena, who comes to take it. “And you will be my other daughter.” And she pulls both of us into another deep embrace. I look over her shoulder at Anneliese, who is entirely unmoved by the whole scene, and simply looks gassy.

Bahal walks over to Jag and holds both his shoulders. “I’m so sorry, my son. I was wrong to be so full of judgments. Clearly this is what you want to do, and I’m happy that you found the right job and the right woman and the right friends to make it possible. I wish you had spoken with us, taken a less complicated path, but there are far worse crimes than marrying a wonderful woman, whatever the legalities or motivations. Anneke, my deepest apologies, dear girl, I hope you can forgive us for our small-mindedness.” He walks over to hug me, and I hug him back.

“Don’t think twice, most parents are concerned about what is best for their children,” I say.

“Don’t miss an opportunity for a dig,” Anneliese mutters under her breath.

“Shut up, Annie,” Alan says, and every head in the room spins in his direction. My mother’s mouth snaps open, and then closes quickly into a straight line. Methinks Alan heard plenty of my earlier rant, and there is going to be some serious conversation later. I start to walk over to the couch to see if the girls are even going to speak to me, but they all have a look of shock and dismay on their faces as they look past me. I turn to see Emily, soaked to the skin, lips blue, shivering in the cold as she stands in the doorway.

“My flight got canceled, and I called but you didn’t answer, and I just . . .” She looks around the room and finally lands on Anneliese. “Mom?”

Anneliese looks around, as if Emily is addressing someone behind her.

“MOM?” Anneliese looks at her again, recognition slowly coming over her face.

“Emily?” she says.

“What are you doing here?”

“I believe the better question is what are YOU doing here?”

I walk over to Emily, grabbing the lovely throw blanket I’ve rented from Cort off the arm of the couch and throwing it over her shoulders, pulling her into me to help warm her. “She’s my sister. And this is her home.”

“I don’t, I just . . .” Anneliese throws her arms up in the air. “Alan, we should go.” She won’t even look at Emily, and I can feel her start to shrink in my arms.

“It wasn’t real, was it?” Emily says, as much to the air as to me.

“No, honey, it never was. I’m so sorry,” I whisper to her.

“Excuse me, I need to get out of these wet clothes,” Emily says with a tremendous amount of poise, and turns and heads downstairs.

“We’ll go,” Caroline says, grabbing Hedy and Marie to go down and take care of Emily, and while I fear that they are going to be very hurt and disappointed with me for a long time, I’m grateful that they are still being so kind. Carl and John head back to the dining room to be out of the line of fire.

Alan shakes his head, and then stands up very straight. “Anneke, it was lovely to meet you and have this beautiful meal with you in this very special home. I know you will have much success with it. I think this is a time for some family privacy, so we will take our leave.” He walks over to me, deep concern on his face, and gives me a hug. “I hope you will stay in touch, with me, at least.” He whispers into my ear, and I feel a business card slip into my hand. I look at him and nod. And he goes to offer a hand to my mother, who follows him silently out the door without saying good-bye.

Jag walks over to me. “I hope it is okay, dear wife. I just couldn’t let it go on.”

“It’s more than okay, husband. I’m really happy for you. Your family is amazing and Nageena deserves to be the one by your side when you are with them.”

Then, suddenly, I spot Liam’s back, headed in the direction of the kitchen, and my heart leaps. Now that he knows, we are free to be together. I forget that I currently hate him, that I think he was plotting against me, and all I can think is that I want him. I want his arms around me and his lips on mine. I follow him, letting Jag and his family and Nageena take over the living room.

And as I get to the kitchen, my brain racing to see what words I can find to open myself to him, I see only his shadow as he heads out the back door.

I
don’t try to follow him, knowing that he can’t be my priority right now, and I slowly walk down the back stairs. Everyone is in Emily’s room. She is curled in a fetal position around Schatzi, weeping into the dog’s fur. Caroline is rubbing her back, and Marie is stroking her hair with a small towel. Hedy is sitting on a chair, looking constipated.

When I walk in, Caroline and Marie look at each other and nod, and get up so that I can sit down next to Emily. I reach out to them, but Marie shakes her head and motions to Emily.
Later
, she mouths at me, and the three of them leave. I have no idea what any of them are thinking, but I also can’t worry about them right now, I have to focus on the soggy mess of girl in front of me.

“Em, sweetie, I’m so sorry.”

“She didn’t even . . . she just stood there . . . and then her eyes, she just . . .” Emily hiccups and sniffles, and sobs even harder.

“I know, it’s why I didn’t tell you she was coming. She’s a horrible selfish person, Emily, she never deserved you, and you deserved so much better than her.”

She looks up at me. “I never believed you.”

“Why would you? From everything you said, she was awesome to you.”

“But she was awful to you.”

“Always.”

“I should have believed you.”

“It’s okay; for what it’s worth, I wish I had been wrong about her, at least for you.”

Emily shakes her head, and wipes her tears forcefully. “She gave me you.”

I smile. “You got me all on your own.”

“Are there leftovers?”

“Buckets of them.”

“Is there pie?”

I nod. “So much pie.”

She wipes her nose on her sleeve. “I need pie. And stuffing,” she says.

I stand up and hold out my hand.

A
nneke! Good news.” Jacob sounds very pleased with himself, and lord knows I could use some good news after the past three weeks.

The upside is that the house is finished. And, if I do say so myself, it is spectacular. It’s turned out even better than I ever expected. It took just two weeks of putting our heads down after the Thanksgiving Massacre, as Hedy refers to it, to get all the bits and bobs checked off the punch list. We’ve tested and double tested every appliance and feature, gone over the whole place with a fine-toothed comb to make sure there is nothing left undone. I hate to admit how much Liam made all of this happen. His cash infusion, not to mention his ability to sweet-talk discounts out of every vendor on the planet, means that our finishes are spectacular. We were able to triple the amount of millwork, doing custom wood wainscoting up the staircase, floor-to-ceiling shelves in the library, paneling in the foyer.

Jacob came over the other day to give it a thorough once-over, and for Jag and me to sign the listing agreement. We’re listing it for 1.25 million to weed out the people who aren’t serious, and would come looking to lowball. Jag and I went over the final numbers, and were pleasantly surprised. With all of the salvage products we found, and the discounts Liam managed to finagle for us, even with the flood we ended up coming in a decent chunk under budget. Which means that we can actually afford to take 1.1 million and still clear the right amount, although obviously we’d rather get more.

“I’m very ready for some good news.”

“You have an offer.”

“Is it a great offer?”

“That depends on how you look at it. I know we talked about getting you 1.2. And I do think that is a realistic price. But we also talked about speed being an issue for you, so I want to present this offer to you even though it is a little low.”

“How low?”

“One million even.”

“That’s a little disappointing.”

“Well, let me present this to you. It is an offer with no contingencies. The buyer doesn’t need an inspection, no sales contingencies, no special requests. The buyer is preapproved for a mortgage for that amount, and you and I both know that mortgages these days are often the deal killers. Just the property as is, closing right after the New Year, which is as fast as you could ever hope for. And even with an early January closing, they would be willing to let you and Jag live there rent-free until February first to give you time to find a new place. They have no agent, and I’m not taking a commission on this, this is just something I’m doing for a friend, so no arguments. With all that, you’ll net out pretty close to where you wanted to be, and it rips off the Band-Aid fast for you. This is an awkward time of year to list a high-end property, everyone is thinking about holidays, and no one wants to even imagine moving in Chicago in the dead of winter, so while yes, I do think we could get a higher offer, I also think it might not come till spring, and you need to think about whether that is worth it for you.”

“I don’t understand, when did they see it? I thought the listing wasn’t even live yet, and unless you’ve been sneaking around behind my back, you haven’t shown it to anyone.”

“I have a habit of sending a pre-listing email to some key people in the industry to give them first crack at special properties. One of them had a personal friend who was planning on buying, and made the decision based on the pictures and descriptions I sent.”

“Wow. That’s amazing.”

“A rare thing, but sometimes it does happen.”

It isn’t all of what I want, but it also does seem to make a lot of sense. And no commissions on either end of the deal puts an additional fifty grand in our collective pockets. “I have to talk to Jag and Liam. How long do we have to make the decision?”

“They’d like an answer before Christmas, does that seem reasonable?”

“Five days. We can do that.”

“Think it through; whatever you decide is the right decision, and if it’s yes, we’ll get it put to bed fast for you, and if not, we’ll get it sold as soon as we can for more.”

“Thank you, Jacob, it means a lot to me.”

“It’s my pleasure. And for what it’s worth? This offer? I’d be happy to have them as my new neighbors, even though I’m going to miss having you guys up the block.”

“We’re hoping to stay in the neighborhood, maybe not on this street, but fingers crossed we can find something nearby.”

“I hope so.”

“Do they deserve her?” I have to ask. “Will they be good to her?” This means as much to me as the money.

Jacob pauses. “Yes. Of that I am completely certain.”

J
ag and Nageena and I spend the afternoon looking at rentals in Logan Square and Palmer Square. When we find the three-story redbrick building on Sacramento, it seems like maybe our luck is turning after all. There are two large apartments on the second and third floors, three bedrooms and two bathrooms each, and a commercial space on the first floor, big enough to have two good-sized offices, with some reception space and a conference room. Jag and I are in the process of incorporating Palmer Custom Homes, and will be hanging out our shingle right after the New Year for home renovation projects and quick flips while we look for our next big spec home build. Since he and I still have to be married while we wait for Nageena’s naturalization process to finalize, we figured the best way to handle things was to look for a place for all three of us to live together. Finding a place that also had an office space available seems too good to pass up, and the landlord offers us a rent break if we sign a three-year lease and take all three spaces, so we are hopeful that they will approve our application.

Jag thinks we should take the offer. It will make it easier to get ourselves settled in the new space, should we get it, get the business up and running, a bird in the hand and all that, but he also thinks it should be entirely my decision. Or rather, mine and Liam’s. Which means I have to see Liam. He’s managed to effectively spend almost no time here since Thanksgiving. He blames the Mannings, family obligations, the usual holiday season pressures on his time. But I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the only days he has been here to work since then were on the weekend Jag and Emily and I spent scouring the Kane County Flea Market for last-minute salvage items and bits and pieces.

I’ve written seventeen emails that I’ve deleted. I’ve asked Gemma at least twice a day what to do, and she has told me, in no particular order, to go for it, let it go, love him, lose him, bare my soul, batten the hatches, find someone else, become a nun, and make salmon croquettes. Each of these makes a weird sort of sense in the moment.

And the croquettes were shockingly delicious.

Tonight is my first face-to-face with the girls since Thanksgiving, and my bowels are in an uproar. I’ve got serious stress runs. There have been a couple of brief phone calls with each of them, long enough for me to apologize and ask to get together for me to fully explain in person, but luckily this time of year is so busy for everyone, I can convince myself that the almost complete radio silence is just due to holiday season crazies. And for the first time since I left Grant’s apartment, I’m hosting.

Gemma may have been falling down on the life guidance lately, but at least she’s still my best plan for cooking. For tonight I’ve made the Rabin family brisket recipe, braised with root vegetables in a thick, oniony gravy. I’m making buttered egg noodles to serve it over, and some steamed green beans. And I’ve got a classic sticky toffee pudding for dessert. Jag and Nageena and Emily are at a movie at the Logan Theatre followed by a late dinner to give us some space. I’m just putting out cheese and crackers when the doorbell rings.

“Hey,” I say to the three faces on the doorstep.

“Hey,” they all say in near unison. I let them in, and hang coats in the newly finished front hall closet. Caroline admires the way the magnetic doors pop open to reveal the closet, which is invisible in the paneling. We head upstairs to the kitchen, where I’ve got the nibbles laid out on the island, and the three of them perch on the bar stools while I open a bottle of champagne.

“To the most forgiving friends a girl could ask for.” I raise my glass hopefully.

“To the biggest pain-in-the-ass friend anyone could be saddled with,” Hedy says, clinking my glass and scowling at me.

“To the most annoying friend on the planet,” Marie pipes in, eyes narrowing.

“To a friend who tries one’s patience,” Caroline says with an opinionated head tilt.

I knew I wouldn’t get off lightly. “Okay, can I get the groveling portion of the evening under way?”

“Absolutely,” Hedy says.

I take a deep breath. “I’m a shit.”

“Hear, hear,” Marie says.

“I’m a horrible, terrible, no good friend, and I’ve been spectacularly assholey and dishonest and disagreeable, and I don’t begin to deserve any of you. I wouldn’t have survived the past year without all of you, and I’ve repaid your overwhelming kindnesses with lies and deceptions and pouting and whining, and sneaking about and being a general twat and I truly, truly could not be sorrier. I love each and every one of you with my whole heart, and I know you may not be able to forgive me for a very long time, that you may hate me for a while yet, but I hope you’ll let me work to win back your trust and love.” I let the tears run freely down my face; if nothing else, my insane life path has put me well in touch with the soggier emotions and I’ve decided to just embrace it as a new reality.

“Oh, good lord, woman, quit your weeping,” Hedy says, handing me a napkin.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t forgive you? Would stop loving you? Silly goose.” Caroline hops off her perch to come hug me.

“Jesus, Anneke, you can be angry with someone you care about for something they’ve done; it doesn’t mean you hate them, you’re just disappointed in their behavior. You hate the thing they’ve done, not the person.”

“After everything you’ve been through, don’t you get the whole family thing YET, you idiot?” Hedy asks, exasperated.

“I’m working on it.” I sniffle.

“You better be,” Marie says.

“Yes, you hurt our feelings, and yes, we forgive you,” Caroline says.

“But you have some serious ’splaining to do, Lucy,” Hedy says, cutting off a small chunk of cheddar and popping it in her mouth.

“I know. Everything will be revealed.”

I wipe my face, and drop the beans in the steamer and the noodles in and begin my saga. By the time I’ve drained the pasta and dressed it with melted butter and chives, and tossed the green beans with a little bit of garlic oil and lemon, I’ve told them how hard it was to feel like such a charity case, and how much of a loser I felt like here by myself. By the time I’ve pulled the brisket out of the oven and everyone has made their plates and sat around the small table, I’ve told them about my decision to marry Jag, and how much it was related to my belief at the time that I just wasn’t cut out to be in a real long-term relationship. They mostly listen and nod, and Marie and Caroline add the occasional “oh sweetie!” or “poor thing” and Hedy periodically snorts. I fess up about Grant and the money, which prompts Caroline to smack me in the back of the head most uncharacteristically. “What on earth is the fucking point of being stupidly rich if you can’t help your friends???”

“Um, Caroline, chill,” Hedy says. “You know that we’d all call you for bail money, and we’re delighted to receive your generosity, but none of us would ever borrow money for our day-to-day life. It’s not how we roll. That part, at least, makes sense to me.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“The rest is fucking twaddle,” she says with a smirk, and I know that everything is really going to be okay. We finish our meal, which is really delicious, while I confess to the hardest of all, my kisses with Liam and my conflicted feelings and the whole Murph-trying-to-steal-my-house business.

“Okay,” Marie says as I dish out the sticky toffee pudding, generously dousing each bowl with caramel sauce, while Caroline adds scoops of vanilla ice cream. “Knowing you, I do get almost every part of how it all went down. I could still fucking kill you for not telling us the Jag thing was a fake, but by the same token, I know how seriously you take keeping a promise and holding a secret, and he certainly made clear that he had made you swear not to tell.”