Recipe for Disaster

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Recipe for Disaster Page 33

by Stacey Ballis


  “I don’t know if I can.”

  “Stay here one second.” Liam leaves me and heads halfway down the bar to a small group of people, talks to them for a moment, and then comes back to me. “C’mon. Where’s your table?”

  He places a hand on the small of my back and guides me through the restaurant to where the girls are sitting. “Hello, ladies, so good to see you, any chance a bloke could crash your party for a while?”

  “Of course, you’re very welcome,” Caroline says. She raises a hand and within moments another chair has been added to our table, right next to me, and a place setting appears like magic.

  “So you must be Caroline.” He winks at Caroline, who actually blushes prettily. “Hedy, Marie, nice to see you both again.”

  “Indeed,” Hedy says, implying just the opposite, and raising an eyebrow at me.

  “So, I’m sure Marie has filled you in on what just happened,” Liam says.

  Hedy tilts her head across the room, where we see Grant and Crystal being taken to their table. He still looks like he swallowed a hot coal.

  “Ah, yes, now, ladies, everyone laugh. Now.”

  We all start to fake giggle, awkwardly at first, but when it sinks in, we actually laugh for real. “Showtime,” Hedy says, knowingly.

  “Let’s make this fun,” Marie says, with a wicked glint in her eye.

  “Fuck that assomelette,” Caroline says.

  “Did you just say ASSomelette?” Hedy says. And the five of us burst into genuine laughter.

  “What did you order?” Liam whispers in my ear.

  “Bone-in rib eye,” I say.

  “Perfect. We’ll share,” he says and winks at me.

  For the next hour Liam is charming, funny, self-deprecating. The girls are all buzzing like bees in a hive. He compliments Caroline, trades barbs with Hedy, is sweet and sincere with Marie. And the whole time he stays right by my side, telling them stories from MacMurphy that make me sound like a rock star surrounded by idiots. And while I know he is pumping up my ego a bit and trying to keep everything light, there is something in the stories he chooses and the way he is talking that actually makes me believe him. Within ten minutes, I stop looking over at Grant’s table and just focus on having fun. Liam splits my steak with me, and then finishes Hedy’s lamb chops, Caroline’s veal, and Marie’s tuna, not to mention the mac ’n’ cheese, onion rings, brussels sprouts, and creamed spinach we’ve ordered for sides. I have no idea where he puts it. Then he orders their signature lemon cake for all of us to share.

  By the time the meal is over, I feel a million times better. I’m full of good food, and good wine; we’ve laughed heartily.

  “Ladies, I thank you all for letting me crash your girls’ night, and letting me steal all your food. It was a pleasure to finally get a chance to know you all, and I hope to see you again very soon. But I don’t want to overstay my welcome, and I know that you all want some time together, so I will take my leave. Besides, I’ve had the lemon cake and don’t think you’re going to want to share it with me.” He kisses all of our hands, and crosses the restaurant to Grant’s table, where he leans over and whispers something in Grant’s ear, making Grant blanch white, before clapping him on the back and walking away. I would give my left arm to know what he said.

  “Well, Anneke, that was an unexpected pleasure,” Caroline says.

  “We thought he was a douche?” Hedy says, shaking her head.

  “Did you see his shoulders?” Marie says almost absentmindedly.

  “MARIE!” Caroline says.

  “HA!” Hedy says, as Marie turns beet red.

  We are all laughing, when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and see a text from Liam. Thanks for letting me crash. Don’t forget to kiss him good-bye. See you tmrw. L.

  “Well, despite his history, I have to admit, that is a pretty good guy in my book,” Hedy says.

  “Yeah, he has his moments,” I say.

  After we devour the lemon cake, our waiter comes over to inform us that Liam has taken care of our bill, and to thank us for our patronage, and we get up to leave. I’m absolutely overwhelmed with his generosity, both emotional and financial. It felt actually sort of wonderful to sit with him at my side, sharing a meal.

  “Just a sec, guys, I’ll meet you at the elevator.” I walk purposefully over to Grant’s table.

  “Grant, great to see you, hope you are having as much fun as we did. Crystal, nice to meet you.” I lean over and kiss his cheek, and then walk away without a backward glance. And for whatever flaws he has, Liam was right about one thing. It would have been a pity to run away. I head over to the elevator where my posse is waiting for me, grinning at my chutzpah, and we ride down, laughing at the complete ridiculousness of the night. We head out the door onto Oak Street, and it is a beautiful balmy night.

  “C’mon. Let’s go somewhere for a nightcap,” I say. And the four of us link arms, and head off to keep the fun going.

  Walter drops me off just after two, having dropped Marie off first, and then left Caroline to sleep over at Hedy’s. I’ve got a good buzz on, but I’m not sloppy. We ended up at the Drawing Room, where we continued to have drinks and fun, and I was able to let it all go. It felt great, and I have to say that I’m feeling awfully warmly toward Liam. There is a note in the kitchen that Emily walked the dog around ten, and is sleeping over at a friend’s house. I’m just making a cup of tea when Jag tiptoes into the kitchen.

  “You’re still up.”

  “Just got home. Tea?”

  “Sure. How was your night?”

  “Lovely, actually, as it turns out. How about yours?”

  “Lovely as well. But complicated.”

  “Complicated in what way?”

  Jag strokes his shiny beard and takes a deep breath. “I have to say something I never expected to be saying.”

  My stomach drops. “What’s that?”

  “Wife, I have fallen in love.”

  Oh no. I never even considered this. “Jag, it’s just the circumstances making you confused.” I adore Jag, but he feels like a brother, or what I think a brother might feel like if I’d ever had one. I can’t even remotely consider him in a romantic way.

  “No, darling, I don’t think so. It’s very unexpected, and I know it makes things much more difficult than we had anticipated, but perhaps it is just that the situation has made some things clear to me, and at least made me feel like it is worth taking risks to get what you want.”

  “Jag, I don’t know what to say, I adore you, you know that, your happiness is very important to me, not just professionally, but obviously personally.”

  He smiles tenderly. “I know. It’s why I know you will approve, even though it meant that I had to break our pact.”

  Now I’m confused. “What pact?”

  “To not tell anyone about our arrangement.”

  Wait a cotton-picking minute. “Who exactly did you tell about our arrangement?!”

  “Nageena, of course.”

  “Why of course?”

  “Because she is the one I’ve fallen in love with.”

  I am such a fucking idiot.

  “I know it is a shock, Anneke, it is a shock for us both as well, but we had, for lack of a better word, a moment at the lake house over Memorial Day weekend, and when I realized not only what I’ve been feeling but that she was clearly feeling it as well, you must understand that I had to tell her. I couldn’t have her thinking that I was some unfaithful horrible person.”

  “Not at all. You’re a fucking prince. You just impose this horrible restriction on me and my life and my relationships, and the moment you get a little itch that needs scratching, you throw it out the window for your own convenience.”

  His eyes narrow. “That’s not fair. This couldn’t have been anticipated.”

  “It could
n’t have been anticipated that it would be really hard for me to not be honest with my best friends while living this farce? Hard for me to not date? I made a commitment to you, to this, and you barely even lasted FOUR MONTHS before putting the whole thing in danger? We have TWO YEARS to get through here, both of us. No, Jag, it isn’t fair, not one little bit.”

  He shakes his head. “Look, she understands, she wants to help us however she can. For what it’s worth, when I told her what you did for me, she cried and said she knew you were a truly extraordinary person. She’s so grateful to you, Anneke, and so am I.”

  “Well, bully for me. And congrats, husband, I’m glad your mistress loves me so much.”

  “Please, Anneke, don’t be angry. I know that when you fall in love with someone you would absolutely need to tell him, and I will completely support you in that. I know it’s hard for you right now with your friends; it’s hard for me too. For us. But Nageena is committed to making sure none of them find out. It’s just not the same with friends as it is with the person you are in love with, surely you can see that.”

  Yeah. When I fall in love. Not likely. “Emily’s out for the evening. Sleep in your own room tonight.”

  And with that, I take my cup of tea, and head upstairs.

  I get into my pajamas, and into bed. I hate everything about this. I hate being mad at Jag, I hate feeling like other people just get what they want and everything is so hard for me. I hate that it bothered me to see Grant with another woman, even more than it bothered me to see him with another man. I hate how much I enjoyed being with Liam tonight. I hate that I can’t shut my head off, so I get back up and go to my laptop.

  From: [email protected]

  To: [email protected]

  RE: RE: visit

  Anneliese—

  I’d be happy to see you while you are in town, and to meet Alan. I’d also like very much for you and Alan to meet my new husband, Jagjeet Singh. We are having a small group for Thanksgiving at our house, and hope the two of you will plan on joining us. The rest of the visit we can figure out when it gets closer. I hope you are well.

  Anneke

  There you go, hubby of mine. You want to throw some wrenches into the works? I’ve got one of my own.

  27

  From Gemma’s Journal:

  Time moves so fast sometimes, I can hardly believe it. It seems like barely a few weeks have passed since Martha married Mr. Rabin’s brother, and today they are coming for tea to visit and to celebrate their son’s third birthday, and introduce their new baby girl, just twelve weeks old, to her cousins. The tyke is adorable, but somehow manages to leave sticky handprints on everything, and their last visit meant that the satin-covered settee in the parlor was positively ruined. Mr. Rabin refers to his visits as the Reign of Terror. I’ve made three kinds of biscuits, cucumber sandwiches, and salmon croquettes. There are the first strawberries of the season, with custard sauce, and all that is left is to bake the scones. It always makes me think of my mother; scones were the first thing she ever taught me to cook. So simple, and yet so satisfying.

  It took a few days for things to get back to some semblance of normal with Jag. I spent all my days working with Emily, and left him alone dealing with plaster issues on the third floor. But we finally had to deal with it when Emily poked her nose in.

  “I think I should try to find another place to stay,” she said last night. “I feel like my being here is causing a lot of strain on your relationship, and things seem a little tense, and what kind of family therapist am I ever going to be if I’m actually causing trouble with your marriage!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Emily, we’re fine,” I said.

  “Of course we are, don’t be concerned at all,” Jag added.

  “YOU ARE NOT FINE. Something is wrong. You aren’t joking at all, Jag goes out every night after work and comes home late and you never go with him. You barely talk about anything except work and you are both being excruciatingly polite! And I know for a fact he slept in my room the other night, because the pillow smelled of his cologne. Now, I’ve ordered you some dinner, and I’m going to sleep at a friend’s tonight. Get your mojo back, and tomorrow I’ll start thinking about a plan to stay out of your hair.”

  She flounced out, and we looked at each other and began to laugh. “Guess we’re in trouble, huh?” he said.

  “Guess so.”

  Emily had ordered us sushi from Hachi’s Kitchen, and we sat in the kitchen eating and trying to figure our shit out.

  “Look, Jag, I’m sorry I blew up like I did; that wasn’t fair. I’m clearly not good at serious relationships, real or fictional. And it isn’t that I’m not happy for you and Nageena, I am, truly, thrilled for you both. It’s all just so complicated.”

  “No, I should apologize. This whole thing is my fault. I should have just sucked it up and stayed in school.”

  “You would have been miserable, and you and Nageena never would have gotten together.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I might be bad at relationships, but I know one thing: You aren’t attractive if you aren’t happy. Why do you think you guys just figured this out now? Because you have the security of knowing you can stay here, and a job you love that you are really, REALLY great at. You’re happy and feeling good about yourself, and that, with all your other wonderful qualities are what made her fall for you now instead of before.”

  “You’re probably right. What are we going to do?”

  “What we have to. We have to ramp up our happy marriage for Emily’s sake, at least for the next month before she leaves to go back to school. Then you can move back to your room permanently, and we can finish this stupid house, and find a place to live.”

  “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you, Anneke, and I’m truly so sorry for making your life so difficult.”

  “You’re worth it, you ass.”

  “Well, then, I’m eating the last gyoza.”

  “Over my dead body.” I snatch the final dumpling out of the container and stuff it in my mouth whole.

  It’s very attractive when I laugh so hard it pops back out and lands on the floor, where Schatzi snatches it up and runs away with it.

  It feels good to be back on good terms with Jag, which is why I haven’t told him yet that my mom and Alan are coming to Thanksgiving. Emily came back in the morning, to find us in a tableau we set up just for her benefit, both of us in our robes looking rumpled, feeding each other pancakes and bacon. She beamed, very proud of herself, and agreed to keep staying here, but promised to spend the night out at least once or twice a week so we could have some privacy.

  We’re taking a step back from the fun finishing work to refocus our energies on the basement, finally getting the new HVAC system installed, if for no other reason than we desperately needed the air-conditioning up and running. We are much less stinky over here now that it isn’t a thousand degrees in the house. Liam has fully embraced the industrial vibe Jag suggested so many months ago, and the two of them set about polishing the concrete floors, which glow like stone. Emily and I cleaned up the steel beams, stripping off the paint and putting an oil seal on the metal. The bathroom is completely finished; we installed the tub in the stonework nook with a foot-deep ledge around for candles or bath products, as well as a large trough sink with two faucets in lieu of his and hers side-by-side sinks, which is a look I particularly detest. I have converted many a couple to either totally separate vanities on opposite walls when they have the room, or single long sinks with double faucets when they don’t. The shower floor we did in a variegated slate tile, a gray base with hints of copper running through it, with a simple floating glass-panel door. We hung a vintage silver light fixture, small sconces in the tub nook, two antique mirrors side by side over the sink.

  It’s been reasonably low-key, and with the small exception of having accidentally rough
ed-in a left-side drain for the tub, which, as it turns out, actually has a center drain, without rehab drama. Ever since our night at Del Frisco’s, Liam has almost entirely stopped ribbing me, not to mention calling me by the wrong name. He still won’t tell me what he whispered in Grant’s ear that night, just said it was something he needed to say out loud. Lord knows I won’t get it out of Grant, who emailed me last week to say he was trying to figure out who he is and that he was sorry if running into him that night upset me in any way. I replied that since I was blissfully happy in my marriage, there were no hard feelings in the least and that I wished him a long happy life with the genitals of his choice.

  Which is why I didn’t think twice about answering my phone when he calls.

  “Hey, whassup?”

  “Hi, Anneke, how are you doing?”

  “Great, actually, things are really coming together over here.”

  “That’s fantastic, really, that makes me happy. But, um, we have to talk about the money thing again, which makes me feel like a total ass.”

  “It is what it is, Grant, I don’t know what to tell you. I’m working as hard and as fast as I can, and we are pretty sure we will be able to list it right after the New Year. So if we get a quick sale, you’re looking at about five to six months.”

  “Well, the thing is, the lawyer, he called me back. And now he’s offering to buy me out at a ten percent profit.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’re offering to give me 220K for my stake, even though I only put in 200.”

  Fuck.

  “Anneke, I know this whole thing sucks, but I don’t know what to do.”

  I know what to do. You don’t cheat on your fiancée. You be the stand-up guy. You don’t pull the rug out from under people. “Me either.”

  “I still have a little time on my end, but not six months. And I don’t need it all, but I do need something, at least enough to do the earnest money for the restaurant deal.”

 

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