One Menu at a Time

by Carolyn Hughey

  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”

  He released me and leaned back against the pillow. “Oh wait a minute—you just told me you were in love with me. You’re not getting off that easily,” he responded begrudgingly.

  I shook my head in agreement. “I know and I’m so sorry…but I just can’t do it.”

  “Why did you come here today if you didn’t want to see me?”

  My hand played with a fold on the comforter covering his bed, unable to look in his direction. “I am very sorry, Chase. Please forgive me. I just needed to—” I stopped midsentence, not really knowing what I wanted to say. I knew what my heart wanted to say, but I just wasn’t as ready as I thought.

  The muscle in his jaw flickered and I knew he was fighting the urge to say something in retaliation, but he surprised me. He blew out a long steady breath. “I just wish we could be together without you worrying I’m going to hurt you. Why can’t you just accept the fact and move forward…and if it doesn’t work…we stop.”

  “Because I don’t want to go through that again.”

  “But how do you know you will?”

  “I suppose I don’t, but I’m just not ready.” Ryan came to mind and he noticed my expression.

  “What?” He frowned. “What’s wrong?” He held my chin between his two fingers and turned my face toward him. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

  I released a breath. “I just saw Ryan for the first time in a year.”

  “What brought that on?”

  “Nothing. I was in the bakery this morning having coffee and he snuck up behind me. I almost died when he slid into the seat across from me.”

  “Swell.” He slanted his mouth. “What did he want? Your forgiveness?” He mumbled a few adjectives aimed at Ryan.

  “It meant nothing to me.”

  “What did he want then? To say hello?”

  “No. He wanted to apologize for hurting me and to tell me”—I swallowed hard—“to tell me he misses me.”

  “Yeah, I’ll just bet he does. And what did you say?”

  “I pretended to call the police.”

  “Good girl!” His expression grew sad. “Was Emily with him?”

  “No one was with him, but I did ask about her.” The tone of his voice told me my suspicion about his being lonely was correct, but I hadn’t banked on him still being in love with her.

  “And?” he gestured. “What did he say?”

  “He didn’t.” I slid off the bed and stood. I’d had enough emotions stabbing at my heart for one day. “I need to get going. The only reason I came here was because I ran into Courtney and she gave me your lunch. I’ll make your plate and be on my way.”

  He caught my hand. “Do you have to rush off?”

  “Yeah, I’d better. I have big plans for tonight with Cassie and Gabi.”

  “Will I see you on Monday?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep a wink until I see you again.”

  I wanted to tell him I knew he was lying to himself and to me. Me, the woman who wanted nothing to do with love, and here I was fighting off the queasy feeling inside my gut like I’d just been rejected.

  Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

  Feeling pretty groovy right about now, aren’t you? Not to worry about this recent development; if she’s in love with you, she just needs a little time. And aren’t you the coy one, turning her from as cold as ice to proving you can beat the odds.

  Celebrate your success by mixing the sugar and cinnamon together—a perfect match, just like ham and cheese. Now slice the bread and the cream cheese block into the appropriate sizes, then set aside and think about your next move.

  Some men have a nice touch with the girls, and you’re no exception. Her surprised expression when she stood in the doorway was perfect. How clever of you to say the right things at the right time thanks to Courtney’s call to let you know she was on her way. You might just win this one over yet.

  Did you know she’d rush over to kiss you? Who wouldn’t? Maybe you should mix those eggs with the milk and salt together and relive that blissful moment when her beautiful lips made contact with yours. But seriously, mentioning the ex-girlfriend’s name? It probably didn’t score you any additional points.

  Okay, now spray the sides and bottom of a deep, rectangular baking dish. Place the bread randomly on the bottom, and do the same with the slices of cream cheese. Sprinkle with cinnamon-sugar and half of the morsels, and repeat until all ingredients are gone. Pour the beaten eggs over top and bake in the oven for one hour, or until a knife inserted into the middle comes out clean. Makes eight to ten servings.

  I rushed into the apartment and called Cassie. I needed to tell someone about my day and I knew she wouldn’t be surprised that I’d finally allowed my emotions to get in the way. Cassie and Gabi were both too busy to talk so we scheduled a Sunday night girls’ venting session and she promised to have plenty of chocolate on hand.

  To keep my mind off things, I busied myself decorating Bailey’s bedroom. I smiled, knowing she’d be so surprised when she returned home, especially since she hadn’t slept in the new bedroom yet. Being in her own room was a new thing, but I worked double time priming her by saying being a big girl meant having her own room.

  Putting the final touches on the room, I picked up the photograph of Ryan, Missy, and me off the chair where I’d placed it—facedown. Every time I saw Ryan’s face, resentment coursed through my body. I fought off the strong urge to toss the picture into the Dumpster—and I would have if it hadn’t been for Bailey’s daily ritual every morning and every evening of holding the picture and naming each person in the photo, and then kissing each one of us. I released a deep sigh, placed it next to the lamp, and turned my attention to something else, like decorating the room in all of Bailey’s favorite Disney characters—the ones she imitated on a regular basis. The matching drapes and cushions she could sit on made the room look adorable. Having a little girl was fun, especially this little girl.

  I readied for my visit to Cassie’s new house, thankful Renee wanted to keep Bailey until Monday night instead of bringing her home on Sunday because they were visiting friends on Sunday and wouldn’t be back until late. A shroud of anxiety jabbed at my insides. I thought tiring myself out would make me forget, but there was something about nightfall that seemed to bring out all the demons.

  Lucy Pirelli greeted me at the door. She lived a few blocks from Cassie and, I had no doubt, would be spending a lot more time at Josh and Cassie’s house than either wanted.

  “Aww,” she whined, “where’s Bailey?”

  “She’s with her cousins until tomorrow night.”

  “When are you going to give her a father? You know, you’re too young to stay single. There are a lot of handsome men out there with good jobs who can take very good care of the two of you. And why aren’t you and Gabi going out dancing tonight?”

  I leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “I love you too, Lucy. Thank you for your concern and suggestions, but you already know where I stand on that subject.”

  “Yeah, and you need to rethink that subject. You don’t want to wait on something like this. No sirree. What is it with you young people today? You think you’re invincible or that you’ll be this beautiful when you get older?”

  “Gee, Lucy, I was hoping getting old was a long way off.”

  “No, no, no.” Her finger wagged. “It happens every day. See that crease by your mouth? One day that’ll sag, and,” she said, pulling me close to the mirror on the wall, “you see those laugh lines by your nose? That’s where they’re going to sag. Maybe you shouldn’t laugh so much.”

  Now that made me laugh and she quirked her mouth to the side. “Hey, listen, youngsters, you think the world stops the aging process. Well, let me tell you, time waits for no one. Just like I constantly tell Cass to hurry and have a baby, but she keeps fighting me. Don’t you follow he
r lead”—she pointed at me—“she’s a bad example.”

  Cassie gave her the glare. “Gee, thanks, Mother.”

  “Well, it’s true.” She turned back to me. “You know, I think of myself as being your surrogate mother since yours went home, God rest her soul.” She made the sign of the cross and threw a kiss up to God. “So when I say something to you, it’s with deep affection. You understand that, don’t you? You’re just as much part of the family as Cassie is even though you didn’t come from my womb.”

  “Thank you.”

  She tilted her head to the side and stared into space briefly, a frown squeezing her features. She snapped her fingers together. “I’ve got a great idea. Now that Cassie is finally married, I’m going after Saint Raphael for you. He’s the patron saint of love and marriage. And I’m gonna add Gabi to the mix too!”

  Gabi’s eyes opened wide with surprise. “Hey, you go, girl,” she said. “I’ve been doing a lot of that myself these days. If you have a connection with the guy upstairs, tell him to send me a six-packer.”

  “Finally, a young woman who wants to get married, but a six-packer? What’s a six-packer?”

  “A guy with bulging muscles.”

  “Ooh, I don’t think you get to make that choice.” She nodded her head skyward. “They do? Okay. So this is good. I have one who likes the idea, and one who needs a little more convincing…yeah, that’ll work. So I’m going home right now to light the candles and start praying. This is powerful stuff, you know,” she said, pulling her coat off the hook, “so don’t be surprised when it hits you right between the eyes. It’s fate, you know?”

  I laughed. “No, I didn’t know,” I said, “but in that case, tell your patron saint not to rush on my account because I’m really not interested in love. I have enough love with Bailey.”

  Lucy released mocking laughter. “Ha! So you think she’s going to stick around forever just to stay with you, huh?” Her head was wagging back and forth like a puppy’s tail. “Don’t count on it. Someday she’s going to move out and not be the least bit concerned about whether you’re alone or not. Kids can be selfish like that. So get on with your life while the iron is hot and you still have your beauty. You know, when you get older, things happen to you. You can’t remember anymore. You can’t see, your hair grays, you get fat, your breath smells like garlic, you know, bad things like that. Consider this a warning, especially if you want more children—and I know you do.” She wagged her finger again. “Don’t waste time because that hormonal clock of yours is ticking pretty fast. You never think it’s going to happen—you know, the time thing slipping away, but I know. Why, it only seems like yester—”

  “Ma,” Cassie screeched, looking up from the box she was unpacking. “For God’s sake, will you let Jamie get her coat off before you launch into your worn-out when-are-you-getting-married sales pitch?”

  “Hey, she’s family. I can say these things to her. Right, Jamie?” She paused for a minute and stared at me, apparently waiting for reassurance. When I didn’t say anything, she lost patience and decided to end the pitch. “Okay, I’ll let you ladies take over the unpacking so I can go home and make your father’s dinner. You ladies have fun.”

  Cassie was shaking her head, and I was laughing because Lucy was always so full of advice that always fell on deaf ears because she harped on the same subjects ad nauseam, and rarely gave us a chance to get a word in edgewise.

  “Thank you for caring, Lucy.” I embraced her in a tight hug and planted a kiss on her cheek and watched as Cassie tossed her head back and pinched the bridge of her nose when Lucy exited. “She gives me a nosebleed.”

  “Have I taught you nothing?” Gabi said, her hands planted on her hips. “You take her too seriously. Just grin and thank her for the advice—that’s really all she wants.”

  Cassie cleared her throat. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She shrugged. “Okay, so c’mon in and let me show you around the house. As you can see, we’ve got a lot to do yet.” On our way into the back rooms, Cassie grabbed a box of chocolate truffles and handed it to me. “Knock your socks off.”

  After the tour, we flopped down onto the comfy sofa, held our glasses up to toast the new house, and all began talking at once. Cassie passed a plate of antipasto to me.

  “Here, Dad made this especially for you guys. So you get us started.”

  “This looks delicious.”

  “Good. Oh, wait, I forgot the breadsticks.” She jumped up and headed back to the kitchen and returned with a tray. “Gabi and I made these in class today.”

  “Yum,” I said, biting into one.

  “You do know what they say about a new house, don’t you?” Gabi said matter-of-factly. Perplexed, we both shrugged. “New house, new baby.”

  “Oh, swell. No wonder my mother is hanging around. Problem is, she hangs around when Josh is home too and we have no time to spend together.” She laughed. “I guess she hasn’t figured that out yet.” She turned toward me. “Okay, Jamie, first we eat and talk. Then we unpack some more boxes. Okay?” Gabi and I both nodded in agreement. “Talk to us.”

  Preheat the oven to 350 degrees

  Soften the dates in a saucepan with the brewed coffee on medium-high heat for approximately ten minutes. Remove the dates but hold onto the liquid for later. Get ’em while they’re hot and puree those dates to a smooth consistency and reserve them for later. Isn’t that what you’ve been doing—reserving yourself for later? I know the jury’s still out on the old question of get involved or don’t get involved, but, girl, you wait too long and it’s never gonna happen, period. Listen to Mama Lucy and get it while the flame is still hot. I don’t know of any woman who’s had more practice than she has. Just ask her daughter.

  So if you’re not too tired out from listening to her advice, go ahead and mix the flour, salt, cinnamon, baking soda, and powder into a separate bowl while you’re beating the tar out of the butter and brown sugar with an electric mixer. When the volume increases and it’s a nice tan color, you’ve done it correctly but don’t rush just because everyone else thinks you should. And if you’re really serious about avoiding a relationship or marriage at all costs, then stop lining up to catch the bridal bouquets at all your friends’ weddings because you’re sending mixed messages. Seriously, girl, how many preserved wedding bouquets can one woman have? And if that’s the case, turn a deaf ear and nod the way Gabi suggested.

  Add the flour mixture. When it’s blended to your satisfaction, add the eggs one at a time and whip to blend, then the vanilla and, lastly, the date puree. See how easy that was?

  Prepare a two-quart rectangular baking dish with cooking spray and scrape the batter into the dish, spreading with a spatula to evenly distribute. Fill another roasting pan with water and place on the lowest rack in the oven—right under your cake pan. Bake on the middle rack in the oven for about forty-five minutes—cake should pull away from the sides.

  While the cake is baking, prepare the Carmelatta sauce—it might help alleviate the “latta” crap that’s going on in your life right now. So melt the butter in a one-quart saucepan. Add the brown sugar and cream and bring to a rolling boil until it thickens in approximately five minutes. Add the Kahlúa and stir.

  Remove the cake when it pulls away from the sides of the pan, and allow it to rest on its laurels, but then you know all about that. You’ve been the queen of laurels lately. Poke holes over the entire surface of the cake, pour half the sauce over top, and allow it to sink in—something you’re a pro at avoiding. Place the baking dish back in the oven for another ten minutes and remove. Pour the remainder of the sauce over top and cover with foil to maintain the heat and moisture. Small pieces are a must for this delightfully rich cake, and if you’re not trying to hook a man, then don’t make this recipe. Serve it warm with a dollop of whipped cream that you’ve whipped and add the reserved coffee from the dates. Ooh, yum! Makes ten to fifteen servings, depending on the size of the servings.

  Anxiety whipped through
my insides as I walked the last block to Chase’s apartment on Monday. I was dreading my first face-to-face with him since my impulsive need to prove I was capable of having someone care about me. Running into Ryan had thrown me off my game and caused me to act unnaturally for me. Despite that, I still forged ahead and filled my need to be close to someone. Talking to Cassie and Gabi had helped somewhat, but I knew that, given the chance, they’d all rally around Chase just to see me with someone. I sucked in one last deep breath and pushed the door open, praying for normalcy.

  “Good morning,” Chase said in a perky voice from the lounge chair in the living room. I swallowed hard and forced nonchalance.

  “Well, look at you! I see you’ve graduated from the bedroom.” This is good, I told myself. I was pulling off the act. You can do this rushed through my mind but the pain in my gut told another story.

  “I was going stir-crazy in that bedroom. It’s time for me to get back to normal.”

  “Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around these days.”

  He kept a watchful eye on me while I removed my coat, a slight grin on his face. I shivered from a chill, unsure if it had to do with the weather outside or the way he was staring at me. He’d had the rest of the weekend to think about our encounter. Apparently his thoughts were happy ones, while mine were filled with dread. I hung my coat in the hall closet.

  “Where’s Bailey?”

  “She’s still at my sister’s. I apologize for being late, but I enrolled Bailey in a preschool program a few blocks from here and she’ll be starting tomorrow. If she really starts bawling, it won’t take long to get her.”

  “Ooh, why did you do that?”

  “Because she needs to spend time with kids her own age and I want her to learn the things I don’t have time to teach her.” I poured him a cup of coffee and walked it over, ignoring the unexpected warm glow that had suddenly crept up inside me. “How are you doing today?”

  “I was fine until you told me she’s not here.” He etched his brow. “If you had asked me a half hour ago, I would have said fantastic. I was really looking forward to seeing the two of you today. I suppose it’s a good thing in one sense—I get to have you all to myself.”