“I never thought of that.”
“I’m sure you girls will work it all out.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I check my watch. “Gotta go.”
“You have a great day and tell Ian that we’re all pulling for him.”
“Will do.” I head for home, wondering about what my mom said. I’ve tried to take some of what Shawn has shared with me with a grain of salt since I found out that his Linda is my Lynne. It only seems fair since I’m giving him so much benefit of the doubt where her descriptions of him are concerned. Trying to hope that the years that have passed have allowed them both to become better people than when they knew each other. But if Lynne is really just trying to insulate herself? I don’t know what to do with that. The people who know you longest and best, those are the ones who are supposed to love you, warts and all. Aren’t we supposed to be able to just be ourselves and own our shit and still be okay?
I hate the feeling that is rising in me, and only for one reason. I see the same sorts of things in myself—the way I close myself off, the way I keep secrets, the way I keep people at arm’s length. The way I have kept my world purposefully small for all of these years, telling anyone who asks that I’m content, and actively avoiding any conversation that implies that content is not the same as happy. They always say that the things that make you most annoyed in other people are the things you hate most about yourself. I wonder if my frustration with Lynne is as much about what I think of me as it is about what I think of her.
• • •
Ian is across the room, talking to a very adorable little freckled girl in strawberry blond pigtails and sassy cat-eye glasses. They seem to be becoming fast friends. I’m shocked at the number of kids who are here. I knew that the America’s Junior SuperChef auditions would be a big deal—the show has become very successful very quickly—it just never occurred to me that there would be this many kids in Chicago who would qualify. The waiting room is packed to the gills.
“I think your son and my daughter are bonding,” says a slight redhead at my elbow.
I look up. “Not my son, but my . . . charge, I guess. Your daughter is adorable.”
“Thanks. She’s a terror, but she’s actually a good cook. So you are his nanny?”
I always hate to fess up to my position, especially since I don’t want Ian to be set up as the rich kid whose parents could afford to get him private cooking lessons, the kid who has some sort of unfair advantage. “More like an occasional babysitter, and guinea pig for his cooking.” I hate being evasive and dishonest, but I don’t know this woman, so I’m not going to give her more info than necessary.
“Ha! I feel you. Our whole family is on the tester team. Ever since she got the call about the auditions, Audrey’s been practicing. We’re all five pounds heavier and somewhat bilious.”
I laugh. “Sounds familiar. What is she doing for her signature dish?”
“Our family recipe for schnitzel with spaetzle and red cabbage with apples. My husband’s family is German, and her grandmother taught her last summer.” The producers said to do something personal, so that seems like a good choice. “How about your guy?”
“He’s doing an old family favorite as well. Meat loaf with mashed potatoes and green beans.” I leave it at that, neglecting to mention that his meat loaf features ground veal and pork and is wrapped in caul fat and basted with a homemade fig barbecue sauce, that the potatoes are more of a classic Joel Robuchon pommes puree of such buttery silkiness that you want to bathe in them, and that the green beans are blistered and charred in caramelized fish sauce with lime. Luckily, they were able to do a bunch of supervised prep when we arrived this morning, since he’ll have only forty-five minutes for the actual cook. I know that his meat loaf mix is seasoned and formed and wrapped in the caul fat and he’s done small individual-sized loaves so they will cook quickly. The barbecue sauce is made, as is the sauce for the beans. The potatoes are peeled and cubed and in a salted water bath, so everything should be pretty smooth sailing as long as he keeps to his plan.
“Sounds delicious. Hopefully they both make it through to the next round.”
“Why stop there? I hope they both make it all the way.”
“Cheers to that.”
The two kids come over, and we make introductions all around. The little girl is Audrey and her mom is Catherine. Audrey is in need of a bathroom break, so the two of them head out, and Ian sits next to me.
“How you doing, kiddo?”
“I got this. I know my stuff. I’m not nervous, is that weird?”
“Nope. That’s good. It means you’re comfortable. Just be yourself, do what you do.”
“That’s the plan! Audrey is so cool, it’s really nice to talk to another kid who has the food thing going on.”
“That’s great, Ian, she seems like a nice girl.”
“Everyone seems pretty nice. I think it would be so fun to be on the show with all these awesome foodie kids!”
“Well, just remember, they are casting all over the country.”
“Oh, I know. I’m just cooking for me.”
“That’s the spirit!”
A young woman in a headset with a clipboard comes over. “Ian Farber? You ready?”
“Yep,” he says. He starts to go with her and then stops and runs back to me, throwing his arms around my neck. “Thank you, Eloise. I’m gonna go do it for both of us. Love you.” Then he runs off, following the woman through the ominous doors at the back of the room. I smile and send up a prayer that this boy gets everything he deserves, everything he has worked so hard for, and then text Shelby and Brad that his first cook is underway and that I’ll keep them posted.
Forty-seven minutes later Ian comes busting through the doors waving a blue ticket in the air. “I made it through! I made it through to round two!” All the kids in the vicinity start screaming and jumping up and down and patting him on the back and giving him hugs. It’s about the cutest thing, how excited they all seem to be for him. Audrey grabs him in a huge bear hug and kisses him on the cheek.
“Good for him!” Catherine says.
“Look, it’s her turn, I’m sure she’ll do great too!”
Catherine gives Audrey a big double thumbs-up, and Ian whispers something in Audrey’s ear that makes her smile as they lead her away for her cook.
Ian comes to sit with me and tell me the whole story. How the producers were there and a camera with a live feed to the judges and people back in New York. How he explained that meat loaf night was the only meal the whole family ever agreed on, and always looked forward to, and that last year he wanted to make it for his parents for their anniversary, but it didn’t feel special enough so he figured out a way to take it up a notch and make it a little more elegant. Everything went well with the cooking, just like we had practiced, and he felt like it was just like breathing, like his hands knew what to do, and he had almost something of an out-of-body experience. He says he didn’t get at all flustered that they were asking him questions while he was cooking. They praised the cook and texture on the meat as perfect and said that the spicy sweetness on the sauce enhanced it without overwhelming it. He says they really liked how the tart salty green beans brought a lot of brightness to the plate, and helped enlighten the palate, and they told him that the potatoes were the best thing any of them had eaten all day.
“And then the phone rang, and it was the judges in New York, and they put them on speakerphone and they all said they remembered me from last year, and how much they loved my food, and how they think I’ve gotten so much more mature and poised and that they were very excited to welcome me back!”
“That is so cool, Ian, that they remembered you after all this time!”
“I know! Wait, look!” He turns back to the big doors, and Audrey is coming out looking dejected.
“Oh, no,” I say.
And then her face
breaks into a grin as she pulls her blue ticket out from behind her back and waves it in the air. The room erupts and Ian shoots out of his chair and goes to congratulate his new friend. I feel full to bursting. Ever since I told Shelby and Brad last week that I would be honored to be guardian for the kids in case of an emergency, it’s like my heart just got four sizes bigger.
The morning’s blue ticket kids all get escorted into a big room after lunch to do the technical audition. They all get the same recipe and ingredients and have to execute it perfectly, a test of their knife skills and working off the cuff. Only half of the remaining kids make it through this round, and luckily both Audrey and Ian are in the group going through to the final round, a timed mystery basket challenge followed by an on-camera interview. It is after six o’clock by the time they are all finished, and we are told that they will get a call in the next two weeks to let them know if they are being invited to callbacks. The producers will be looking at tape from all of the day’s activities, and, from what I gather, only four or five kids from Chicago will make it to callbacks, where they will meet the producers in person as well as the actual judges. This was the same place Ian got to last year, and we don’t really know what part of his day was his weak link that prevented him from getting called back, but I know he is just happy to have gotten to the same round. He and Audrey exchange phone numbers so that they can make a cooking playdate, and I take Catherine’s info to share with Shelby.
“Hey, Eloise?” Ian asks as I’m driving him home.
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Thanks for being my teacher. If I don’t make it, it was still worth it to try because we got to cook so much together this year.”
“Thanks, Ian. I really love cooking with you, and no matter what happens for the show, you and I can still cook whenever you want.”
“Yeah? We can keep the lessons going?”
“Of course! You didn’t think we’d have to stop just because the auditions are over, did you?”
“I thought maybe.”
“Not a chance. I’ll cook with you till you don’t want to anymore, deal?”
“Deal. I want to do a little thank-you present for you.”
“That is unnecessary, but I never say no to a present.”
“I want to cook dinner for you and the whole family . . . and your boyfriend,” he says with a wicked chuckle.
“What do you know about my boyfriend?” I’m shocked, but amused.
“I overheard my mom telling my dad that you were in love and she’s so excited for you, and hopes that it’s the real deal. Do you think it’s the real deal?”
I laugh. “You know eavesdropping is rude, little man. But yes, it’s possible that it might be the real deal. And yes, I’d be delighted to bring Shawn to dinner one night when you’re cooking.”
“Cool. You have to tell me his favorite stuff so I can learn to make it.”
“I know he’ll love anything you cook.”
“Well, yeah, but it won’t hurt to have a secret weapon!”
I reach over and ruffle his hair. “Nope, won’t hurt at all.”
Eighteen
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]; [email protected]
Happy Valentine’s, ladies! Thought it would be a good time to check in on our lists, and to start thinking about what we want the party to look like, since we are only a little more than three months out from our big week. As part of my online financial class, I’ve been learning how to do spreadsheets, so I’ve done one for us! Based on my calculations, here is where we all stand:
TERESA:
Marriage heating up: 4 of 9 events completed
Volunteering: in process—two things tested, still not committed
Part-time job: not yet secured
Learning to cook and eat non-Italian: check, doing non-Italian at least once a week
Learn finances: course half completed, and Gio has promised to sit with me and take me through everything once the course is over in April
LYNNE:
Land seven-figure client: check
Buy house: check
Join a board: in process—DuSable Museum—waiting to hear from nomination committee
Hire matchmaking service and meet men: service hired, 1 of 5 men met
Get a dog: check
ELOISE:
Find a new hobby: check, drawing class
Create cookbook proposal: in process
Find a new athletic endeavor: check, swimming and training
Social life: 12 of 18 events completed
Dating: 18 dates completed
I’m really proud of us, and glad we made this bet, because it is definitely getting my butt in gear on some stuff I’ve been wanting for myself forever, and I hope you both feel the same. I’m also really excited that it looks like we are all going to complete everything on our lists, which is pretty cool. So for the party, I’m thinking we keep it fairly small? Nearest and dearest? Something casual and fun, where kids can come? What do you guys think?
XOT
Lynne replies quickly.
Happy Commercialized Romance Day, girls. Good job on the lists, everyone. But since we are all going to really get this done, maybe we up the stakes a bit? I say that the first person to finish their list doesn’t have to donate anything, the second person donates 2,500 and the person that comes in last does the full 5,000, and both of the losers have to donate in the name of the girl who wins! You guys ready to really throw down? Party details are really up to the two of you—my guest list is very small for this shindig, since most of my people are on the West Coast, so I’ll go along with whatever you both want.
L
Things have been relatively okay with Lynne since our talk. She is clearly making an effort to just let me live my life, despite her objections. The three of us had brunch last weekend at Wishbone and it was actually mostly pretty fun, despite her making the occasional snide little comment, including one weird one about cultural appropriation when I ordered cheese grits. As I promised myself I would, I let the little digs slide, and Teresa, true to form, told Lynne that food is the great connector, and that we are at the restaurant as part of her own exploration of food outside her comfort zone, and then proceeded to order hoppin’ John with a side of greens to make her point, and that shut it down.
Of course Lynne wants to up the ante, since she is about ten minutes from finishing her list. And as far as I can tell, Teresa is right on her heels. It feels like more of a way for Lynne to punish me than to reward herself.
Happy Hearts and Flowers Day! And congrats, one and all, on what we have managed to accomplish so far. I know that I have done more in the past few months than I ever imagined possible. And Lynne? If you want to up the stakes, bring it. You might be a little bit in the lead, but the last five pounds are hardest to lose, am I right? Don’t count either of us out—Teresa and I have some serious skills. I’m in if T is. And I agree on the party, something fun and casual works great. Why don’t we get together in the next couple of weeks to really make a plan. Everyone can start thinking about idea and venues. My list is also really small. Teresa—I expect you to be checking another spicy marriage event off your list tonight!
El
I shut the computer down, and text my mom to see if she is ready. She and I are taking a Valentine’s lunch to Glenn. He has been working with her one afternoon a week at the after-school program, and when she mentioned to me that Valentine’s Day might be hard for him, I said that I would definitely be up for a lunch. Lawrence is in Tucson this week, so I have today off. Shawn and I decided to avoid the amateur night that is Valentine’s at most restaurants in favor of cooking together and watching movies. We planned the menu together: butter lettuce salad with a shallot, lemon, and caper vinaigrette, a huge tomahawk steak to share, wild mushroom risotto, an
d steamed broccolini, with a pistachio soufflé for dessert. Marcy dropped off some chocolate sablé cookies and caramelized white chocolate truffles last night to add to the party, as well as a gorgeous zucchini bread with chocolate chips “for breakfast,” she said, winking. She is over the moon for Shawn and me and livid at Lynne.
“Seriously, Eloise, I know she’s been your friend since the dawn of time, but that woman is awful to you. She’s a classic mean girl.”
“She’s not, Marce—just think about it, that marriage is the only thing she has ever failed at in her entire life! Ever. She’s always gotten everything she wanted, everything she ever worked for. She’s got one black mark on her record, and her marriage to Shawn is it. And now one of her oldest friends is having a successful relationship with him. That has to be so hard.”
“You’re more forgiving than I could ever be. I think she is selfish and vain and doesn’t care a whit about you or your happiness. Sorry, can’t help it. For her to be so terrible to you for dating someone that she discarded? Especially after you told her the whole thing about Bernard and she knows that you haven’t been dating since then. It’d be one thing if she left him because he was abusive or dangerous or a criminal or something, and she was trying to save you from hurt. But from what you’ve told me, sounds like she dumped him because he decided he wanted kids and a dog and to take a better job. That is just shitty. You get that, right?”
I feel bad that I’ve probably done just that, made it seem like the divorce was all on Lynne. Teresa said something to me the other day about what a big thing the children issue must have been for Lynne. She told me that if Gio had said to her a year into their marriage that all of a sudden he didn’t want to have any kids, it would have broken her heart and she would have probably left him, however much love there was between them. It made me think really hard about how difficult that must have been for Lynne, to marry someone she thought was in her corner on all the big stuff and then have him shift. I wonder how I would feel if suddenly Shawn decided that he wanted to be a raw-foods vegan, or that he never wanted to get married or live with someone again, or that he hated dogs. I don’t know if we would survive any of that, and I do know that it would feel like he had sold me a bill of goods. And we are only a few months into our love. I really can’t imagine how it would have felt to have such seismic shifts after already making things legal, and I feel really disloyal to Lynne for letting that go unaddressed with Marcy for so long.
How to Change a Life Page 23