The Ingredients of You and Me

by Nina Bocci

  Cooper took Emma’s hand in his and they faced the rest of us with beaming smiles. “We’ve never been great with the traditional order of things. This isn’t an exception.”

  Henry sucked in a breath and slapped the table. “Oh my God, you’re having a baby!” he shouted joyfully, and jumped up from his seat. When it dawned on him what he had just blurted to a crowd of onlookers, he promptly covered his mouth and sat down. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

  Charlotte was holding back laughter as were Cooper and Emma. Nick didn’t even flinch.

  “Uncle Henry, start buying the books now. You’ll be in charge of the library,” Cooper said, confirming the news for his friend.

  “Baby Peroni-Endicott will be here in September,” Emma said, joyful tears in her eyes.

  Cooper leaned over and gave Emma a searing kiss and the restaurant applauded. I wasn’t even paying attention to the fact that the entire place got quiet when she began her announcement. That was one way to quickly disseminate news through town. Come to a busy diner to make a statement.

  Henry stood again and gave Emma a sweet kiss on the top of her head. “I’m so happy for you guys.” He went over to Cooper and clapped his hand on his shoulder. “This baby will be the most well read in town.”

  Emma laughed. “I have no doubt.”

  Charlotte followed suit. “I can’t wait for the baby shower.”

  Cooper shook his head. “Charlotte, we need to get through the wedding first.”

  “Sure, sure, that planning is done, though. I need something new to focus on.”

  When I took my turn, I smiled. “I can’t think of two people who will shower a baby with more love than you guys. I’m so happy for you.”

  When I returned to my seat, Nick was still there, unmoving and looking dazed, staring in his lap. His phone was on the table beside him, blowing up with messages. When I returned to my seat across from him, I gently kicked his leg, jolting him out of the fog he was in.

  I cocked my head to the side, and mouthed Say something to him. Shaking his head, he plastered on a fake smile. “I’m so happy for you guys. I just wish Jillian was here for the news too. I know she’ll be disappointed she missed it. I’m sure she’ll call you with congratulations later.”

  Who was this? There wasn’t a smart-ass comment. No Uncle Nick is going to be his or her favorite, or anything that would show that he was genuinely happy. He just looked like he was going through the motions. I didn’t know if it was a combination of the phone calls and baby news, or if he was just in a funk. Whatever it was, it was noticed by everyone at the table.

  Charlotte tapped him on the arm. “You okay?”

  He gave her a weak smile. “Sorry, I’m distracted. I’m crazy busy today.”

  “Are you sure? Do you want to go outside to talk?” she offered, and I was so glad that he had her to confide in. Not that the guys wouldn’t listen, but there was something about having that best girl friend to talk things through with. “I just have a lot on my mind,” he said. “Jillian and I have been talking about me spending time in Barreton instead of her coming here all the time.”

  “Oh, Nick. Are you sure? That’s a lot on you, and between work and…” She paused.

  I know she wanted to include and us, but she wouldn’t add to the guilt trip that he was already feeling.

  “No, actually, I’m not sure about anything anymore,” he said, giving me the briefest of glances. “I hate to do this but I’m going to bounce.” Emma looked on with tears in her eyes. “Guys, seriously, I’m so happy for you,” Nick said, getting up from the table and walking out, not looking behind him to see the deflated expressions on his friends’ faces.

  In the three weeks that had passed since the “diner debacle,” as I was calling it in my head, I hadn’t seen Nick except in passing. If I was getting a ride into town, I’d wave to him if I saw him drive past, or if he was on my street, he’d shovel but not stick around for me to come out to chat. At the bakery, where he spent almost as much time as I did, we were on opposite schedules. It was avoidance at its finest.

  When it came to the bakery, everything was done via Post-it. I was an early bird, in by four-thirty or five, and he’d come by long after I left in the early afternoon. He was helping with the arrangement of the tables in the teaching area, but if we ever happened to be there at the same time, he popped out the back door when I came in through the front. The most interaction I got was a bright yellow stickie on a chair saying:

  This place is great. I’m proud of you.

  The ladies saw him daily, which made me feel good, because him avoiding me was one thing. Him avoiding them because of me—well, I couldn’t live with that.

  We still talked via text and email, but never about anything other than the bakery or one of the friends or ladies. If Jillian was with him, he would pretend that he didn’t see me, and head in the other direction. Much like I had done at the beginning of my visit. Jillian, of course, always saw me and gave me a big-toothed smile that said, I won, you lost.

  I wouldn’t deny that it hurt. A lot. But I was rolling with it, because I had enough going on without focusing on Nick and what, or whom, he was doing. The ladies and I had been filming videos—about two or three a week—and uploading one a week. And the bakery was coming along fast. We’d be ready to open in about a month, which was crazy, but necessary—we were growing out of Mancini’s kitchen with the videos.

  But then one night, about a week ago, when I couldn’t take it anymore, I had a spur-of-the-moment idea to put everything I was feeling in an email and send it.

  Nick,

  You’re being a real shit. Ignoring me when we see each other? Avoiding me in such a small town? What is wrong with you? Who are you? Where is the guy I met last year? The one who would talk to me endlessly about anything and everything? Even when we were naked on the leather seats of your truck you were still chatty.

  Where is that conversationalist now? When we have things to talk about? I appreciate your help with the bakery and Golden Girls, I really do. But I thought we were supposed to be friends? Friends do not behave this way.

  There isn’t anything we can do now to change the past but if we want to move forward in any kind of way you need to be an adult.

  We can only go forward and decide what kind of future there is.

  P

  * * *

  When it went un-replied to, I vowed not to do it again. Not to put myself out there for him to ignore.

  The whole situation was ridiculous, not only because we were adults, but because I was falling right back into the same rut I was in before—the weird plateau of wondering if we were friends, or if that had fallen by the wayside too. Why was I wasting energy trying to be friends with someone who would never fully be my friend in return? So, I put the friendship part of our relationship on a shelf and focused only on what he could offer me as a small-town businessman. Which, I had to admit, he had a knack for.

  The business emails that Nick and I sent to each other were clear-cut. They were professional and to-the-point, and always included either Mancini, Emma, or Cooper so as not to give Jillian any possible reason to come at him for it. Like the one we exchanged yesterday.

  From: Parker Adams

  To: Nick Arthur

  CC: Suzanne Mancini

  Subject: Signage

  Hey Nick,

  Can you give us the name of your contact in Barreton for the flyers and sign? Mancini mentioned that you had a guy.

  Thanks,

  Parker

  * * *

  From: Nick Arthur

  To: Parker Adams

  CC: Suzanne Mancini

  Subject: Re: Signage

  Sure. I’ll call him and handle.

  * * *

  From: Parker Adams om>

  To: Nick Arthur

  CC: Suzanne Mancini

  Subject: Re: Signage

  Perfect. Thanks.

  * * *

  Everything was civil but totally professional. There were no salutations or personal greetings.

  It’s like I had never seen him naked.

  * * *

  “Parker, this is very exciting,” Mancini said, coming over to stand beside me as I stared out of the side window into Charlotte’s shop.

  One of the biggest changes that both of our businesses were undergoing were the windows we were installing to lead out into the hallway. Each space would have full windows inserted on the wall that ran parallel to the hall so each business had more display space, but also so Charlotte and I could dorkily wave to each other when I was in the bakery and she was in the flower shop.

  “Would you have ever guessed that you’d be next door to your best friend like this?” Mancini asked, placing her arm over my shoulder and giving me a slight squeeze. The shops were side by side, and I’d be able to wave to her whenever I was inside. It felt like we were ten-year-old Parker and Charlotte again.

  “I will answer honestly and say hell no. I wasn’t even sure how often I would be seeing her when she first moved here, because Hope Lake got its claws into Charlotte and she hasn’t ventured back into the city since. I have to admit, this is the happiest I’ve ever seen her.”

  “Well, I think it’s a combination of things. Returning and spending time with her family certainly helps, and Henry, of course. But, Parker, you being here has given her a new light too. Sure, she’s reconnected with Emma and her childhood friends, but you’re the only person here besides her father and Gigi who knew her while she was growing up. I think she’s feeling like everything in her life puzzle is finally being pieced together properly.”

  “I’m glad I get to see her in her element. I always thought New York Charlotte was who she was supposed to be, until I saw her here.”

  Mancini smiled, and we both waved from across the way to Charlotte, who was balancing her phone on her shoulder as she inserted some sort of white snowball–looking flower into a hand-wrapped bouquet.

  “She’s certainly busy,” I remarked, seeing the stacks of yellow slips beside her.

  “You’re right, but I hear she’s hiring someone else. The high school had a couple people interested in horticulture at the technical school, and she said she’d speak with them to see if any of them would like to work with her.”

  “You know everything. I swear, something doesn’t happen in this place without being run by you first.”

  “Psssh,” she chided, but winked and I knew I was right. She didn’t just have her finger on the pulse: she was the pulse of the town.

  “Tell me, Yoda. What are the piles of flowers for that my friend is slaving over?”

  She gave me a thin-lipped smile as if to say, This is your test?

  “That’s for the Malacari wedding tomorrow,” she said confidently. “They’re going to be lucky if they get through it all before the storm hits.”

  “My God, does it ever not snow here?” I said, exasperated. Since I arrived at the shop that morning, it must have snowed a foot and a half. This was insane.

  “Where’s the wedding?” I wondered.

  “Country club. The menu is delightful.”

  “I reiterate, you know everything.” She shrugged knowingly. The woman was a marvel.

  She nudged me with her shoulder. “I know some things. More than a few, less than a bunch.”

  “I find that hard to believe.” I threw her a glance, knowing that she knew a very important something about me and Nick.

  “Okay, most things.” She lowered her voice a smidge. “I know that girlfriend of Nick’s is not the right fit for him.”

  My eyes widened in surprise. “You see it too?” I tried to hold in my response, but I was glad someone else had seen it. It wasn’t just me and the jealousy I wasn’t able to admit to myself.

  Mancini looked at me as if to say, Give me a break. “Please. There is something wrong with that woman. I’ve seen through that two-faced little bitty since I met her. No one is that nice. Not even me.”

  I laughed hard. God, I loved Mancini. “Did something happen?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m just observant. When us old broads are around, people tend to drop their guard. I think they almost forget we’re in the room and pay us no attention. As a result, we see it all.”

  I leaned in closer, knowing I was going to get a good story.

  “After Nick first started bringing her around, I actually didn’t mind her. She wasn’t necessarily my cup of tea, but he seemed happy and you know I want my Nicholas to be happy. But then I started noticing things. I’d overhear things she’d say to him. Things like ‘Oh Nicky, do you really need to hang out with Henry and Cooper again? Don’t you want to hang out with me instead?’ or ‘Nicky, you’re the nicest person, but do you really need to shovel everyone’s snow? I don’t want you to get sick.’ ” Mancini’s impressions were spot-on.

  “At first it seemed harmless, but then I realized Nick started changing. He stopped hanging out with Cooper and Henry. He stopped coming by the community center. And then it hit me, she was manipulating him to not do things he wanted to do!”

  “Mancini, that is what I’ve been thinking since I first saw them together. Thank goodness it’s not just me!”

  She nodded. “I thought Nicholas was happy. But the longer he’s been with her, the unhappier he’s seemed. And when you came breezing back into town, well, then everything changed.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I lied, but we both knew it.

  “You know he started coming around to visit me more, to see his friends again. They noticed it too, the change. It’s not the same as it was last fall when you were cavorting around together, but I still notice a difference, and I’m not the only one who’s equating it to you being here. There are moments when he seems happy again. Is there something new going on that you’re not telling me, Parker?”

  “Of course not. What we had last fall was clearly not meant to be. For as much as I dislike Jillian, I’m not going to engage in anything that would result in Nick cheating on her.”

  “Dear, I never thought he’d be a cheater. Or that you’d allow it. You’re both too good for that. But I was hoping—I guess I was hoping—that you would find your way back to each other after he gave her the heave-ho. But, since she’s still lingering around…”

  “I have no idea what’s going on with them.”

  “Jillian is here and wreaking havoc like the rotten tomato she is.”

  “That’s an oddly specific vegetable to choose. Am I missing something?”

  She turned and clapped her hands. “Emma told Cooper, who told Henry, who told Charlotte, who told me that for the first time Jillian dropped her mask the other day and flipped in the grocery store about you. When she did, her whole head turned bright red like a tomato. It took almost a half hour for her to go back to scary pale.”

  I took a step back. “Wait, what? Why was she mad about me? I haven’t even seen him!” I argued, feeling my blood boiling to the point where I too would look like a tomato.

  “Emma overheard her saying that she thinks that he has secret accounts that he follows you from. Something about the snippity Snapchat. I guess she went through his history and found a lot of Parker searches saved on the Google. Add in the video that you two made being all over social media—well, let’s say all of it got her to explode.”

  “She saw the video earlier. He promised her he wouldn’t hang out with me one-on-one anymore and he hasn’t. What’s the issue now?”

  Mancini took my hand. “Honey, you’re so blind to it. Your video was a screaming advertisement for a hopeful romantic. Two people with enough chemistry to make a boring cooking lesson into a sensation! People keep commenting about how you two should be more than friends.
That the chemistry is palpable through the screen. They’re right. You’re magnetic together.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Although I’d been actively avoiding any comments on that video so I had no idea what people were saying, I still wanted to touch base with him, to tell him that I was sorry for causing problems even when I was actively trying to not cause problems. “Nick and I are—were—friends. There’s nothing more there to exploit.”

  She frowned. “If you say so, dear.”

  * * *

  The following Saturday, I was supposed to meet with Mancini, Clara, Viola, and Gigi to tour the bakery and make a checklist of who was handling what before we were ready to roll. The television that would hang on the wall and air the videos hadn’t arrived yet. Nick promised that the second it showed up, he’d mount it. The chairs had nicks and needed to be replaced by the manufacturer, and the valances that would hang over the large window were the wrong size. Nothing was traumatic but it was still a pain that we had to fix silly mistakes.

  Since it had snowed again, the ladies were running a few minutes late. It was difficult to safely navigate Gigi’s scooter over the snowy sidewalks. Mancini had texted me that they would be behind by at least an hour, so I was taken aback when I heard the door’s overhead bell ding.

  “Hey,” Nick said, carrying a stack of file folders in his hands. He placed them on the countertop and looked around the room. “I had some free time and wanted to stop in to see if you needed any help.”

  I smiled tentatively. “Kind offer. I’m surprised you’re here. What’s in the folders?”

  Nick grinned slowly, and opened the folder on top of the stack. “Grand-opening ideas. I contacted the Hope Lake Journal, but I also got the Barreton and Mount Hazel papers too. The local newswoman is going to come out for a quick interview and spotlight. Also,” he said, scanning my face, “why would you be surprised I’m here? I’ve been here every day.” He set the first folder aside.