Recipe for Disaster (20 page)

“We don’t speak. I saw her for a few days a couple of years ago when my grandmother died, but nothing since. It’s not some melodramatic tragedy, I’m fine. She should never have been a mother, and since I don’t want kids of my own, I sort of get that. And I do just fine without her.” But this feels a little like a lie. Emily’s arrival has me questioning her maternal instincts. After all, while Emily wasn’t enough to make Anneliese stay, she continues to tell me that she was loving and doting and a real mother to her. She took care of her when she was sick, kissed boo-boos, soothed nightmares. None of which she ever did for me. So I have to face the fact that perhaps it wasn’t that my mother didn’t have mothering in her, I just wasn’t the right kid.

“Good for you,” Balbir says. Everyone turns to him, waiting for him to follow it up with something inappropriate or accidentally offensive, but nothing else comes out. And when we all realize that we were pausing conversation for the same reason, it makes us chuckle, and then giggle, and pretty soon the room is filled with laughter and kindness and I feel utterly, completely, at home.

T
hank you, they’re all wonderful,” I say, as Jag pulls up in front of the house. “I had a really good time.”

“I’m glad you came. They all loved you.”

“It was just the thing I needed, even if I tried to pretend I didn’t need it, so I really appreciate your making me come.”

“I think sometimes the best thing about making new friends as an adult is that there is a little bit of a clean slate, no baggage. When they meet you, all they see is who you are in that moment, no memories of a younger you to cloud things. No knowledge of your history to hold against you, as it were.”

“I think you’re right. It was just easy to be with them, get to know them, not feel like they were basing their opinions of me on anything other than what was in front of them.”

“I’m sorry if there was too much discussion about Grant.”

“It didn’t bother me. The fact is, I’ve been thinking of him quite a lot lately. Everything that has happened, Emily showing up, the house, cooking. It was sort of nice to be with people who think of him fondly. The girls are so angry with him for what he did; when I’m with them I feed off of that. But tonight I was reminded of the guy who really was my best friend, and my partner, and my love, and it felt nice to think of that Grant for a while, instead of the guy in the shower with the other guy.”

“Do you think you might be rethinking your connection to him?”

“Maybe. There’s a part of me that wants to try to be friends again, but that part is also scared that if I do reconnect then I might be weak and fall back into the relationship, and I don’t know what to think or feel about that.”

“That’s a lot. But maybe you should just follow your instincts and see what happens.”

“Maybe. Maybe I should just call him and see if instead of ending up where I wanted to go, I end up where I need to be?”

“Exactly. Do you want me to walk the dog with you?”

“You’re sweet, it’s late. I’m just going to let her out in the backyard; I’ll walk her longer in the morning.”

“Okay, then. Will you come again sometime?”

“You bet. See you Monday?”

“Of course. And, Anneke?”

“Yeah?”

“You are everything you ought to be. Other people’s opinions can’t alter that reality. Don’t forget that.”

I climb into bed, thinking about the night, about Jag and his wonderful friends, about Grant and all that was good between us. About who I am and who I want to be. About the life I have and the life I could have. I grab the journal.

“What do you think, Gemma?”

“Where there is the greatest risk lies the greatest reward. No fantastical thing was ever achieved by aiming for mediocrity. Safe is easy. Extraordinary requires a little bit of danger.”

I reach for my phone.

F
rom Gemma’s Journal:

When Martha and her husband enter the dining room, I burst quite into tears and laughter at once. She looked so beautiful in her lace dress, and he was dashing in tails, and they both simply glowed. I feel quite certain that they are very much in love, and I’m so thrilled for them, for the life they are beginning together. It’s never what I wanted for myself, I saw my mother suffer under my father’s thumb and couldn’t wait to apprentice myself when I was fourteen to get out of the house. I like the control of the kitchen, and to keep my own counsel, and I’ve never missed having a man in my life. But I appreciate it for those who do, and I can see that Martha’s life has gotten infinitely better since she fell in love, despite the bumps in the road, and I know that this marriage is a good thing for them both, and that makes me giddy with delight. I borrow the light of their joy and it warms me.

My fancy dress rustles, and I glance at all the upturned faces, most of them looking as if they are trying really hard to appear happy.

At the foot of the stairs, Jag is waiting for me. “Are you quite certain, Anneke?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

“It’s a very big deal. And not too late to back out. I have my car out front if you want to make a run for it.”

“Well, when you figure out what’s important, what’s irreplaceable, it doesn’t seem so big. It just seems right. It seems like ending up where you are supposed to be.”

He nods his head, smiles warmly, and offers me his arm. He escorts me to the window, and we stand in front of John, who nods at us.

“Dearly beloved. We are gathered here today to witness the joining of Anneke Stroudt and Jagjeet Singh in holy matrimony . . .”

What?

When you find a really good contractor that is awesome and talented and fun AND in your budget? You don’t let him go. Full stop.

A
fter John, newly ordained on the Interwebs, declares us husband and wife and my new hubby kisses me softly, his beard tickling my chin, we all repair to the dining room. Caroline has laid out a beautiful spread, which is a combination of some of my favorite things that she has cooked, and traditional Sikh wedding dishes provided by Jag’s friends. There is a whole roasted beef tenderloin, sliced up with beautiful brioche rolls for those who want to make sandwiches, crispy brussels sprouts, potato gratin, and tomato pudding from Gemma’s journal. The savory pudding was one of the dishes from Martha’s wedding, which gave me the idea for this insanity to begin with, so it seemed appropriate. I actually think Gemma would strongly approve of this whole thing. And she certainly would have appreciated the exoticism of the wonderful Indian vegetarian dishes, lentils, fried pakoras, and a spicy chickpea stew.

From what I can tell, Gemma was thrilled anytime she could get introduced to a completely new cuisine, whether it was the Polish stonemason introducing her to pierogi and borscht, or the Chinese laundress bringing her tender dumplings, or the German butcher sharing his recipe for sauerbraten. She loved to experiment in the kitchen, and the Rabins encouraged her, gifting her cookbooks and letting her surprise them with new delicacies. Her favorite was
With a Saucepan Over the Sea: Quaint and Delicious Recipes from the Kitchens of Foreign Countries
, a book of recipes from around the world that Gemma seemed to refer to frequently, enjoying most when she could alter one of the recipes to better fit the palate of the Rabins. Mrs. Rabin taught her all of the traditional Jewish dishes they needed for holiday celebrations, and was, by Gemma’s account, a superlative cook in her own right.

Off to the side of the buffet is a lovely dessert table, swagged with white linen and topped with a small wedding cake, surrounded by dishes of fried dough balls soaked in rosewater syrup and decorated with pistachios and rose petals, and other Indian sweets.

Jag’s friends are all very sweet, very gracious, and obviously very confused. Jag and I decided that the only way to handle the need for secrecy attached to a green card wedding was to be sure that we are the only two people who know that it isn’t real. His greatest fear is that we’ll get exposed and open his dad up to shame and scandal. His philosophy is that there is no such thing as a secret between three people, so the idea of telling three people on my end, and half a dozen or so on his end . . . it made him panic. It took me the better part of a week to convince him that it was a good idea to begin with. I called him the night of Nageena’s party with my brilliant solution, and at first he dismissed it out of hand. But after a few days of pleading my case, he softened to the idea. I explained that the whole Grant thing had really finally crystallized for me, and that I’ve come to the conclusion that I am just not built for love ever after and all of that. My work is everything to me now, and needs to be for the foreseeable future, and I want him to continue to work with me for as long as he wants. I told him that I trusted him and felt safe with him, and that I deeply care about him as a friend, that if I were the kind of person to even think about marriage, he is the kind of guy that I would want to marry. When I told him that in many ways the marriage would be as big a help to me as to him, saving me from dealing with my friends and their expectations, letting my life find its balance again, he relented.

We’ve spent the last month convincing everyone around us that we have just fallen crazy madly in love and decided to go for it. I feel badly about that part, because I adore his friends and hate to mar our new connection with lies. I can tell that they are looking at me skeptically, wary of my motivations, so I do my best to look at Jag with heated love in my eyes.

The girls are another story. They think I have completely lost the plot.

“You have GOT to be kidding me,” Hedy fumed at me when I told them. “I thought he wasn’t your type?”

“I changed my mind.”

“Is this because I said I was afraid you’d stay alone forever?” Marie asked.

“Of course not.”

“He’s wonderful, darling, of course he is, but this is just so fast . . .” Caroline said.

“We discussed it at length and realized that there is no good reason to postpone the inevitable, when you feel something in your gut that you know is right, you just do it.”

“Very convenient for him, about to be deported,” Hedy snarked.

“He wasn’t about to be deported; he had offers from a different school if he wanted to retain his student visa, and his former firm offered him a job in their Chicago office and would have taken care of the visa issue.” Both of these were true; Jag was determined to stay in Chicago and had explored every possible solution, but neither of the available options would have allowed him to spend the time and energy working with me that we both wanted and needed.

“Then why not take one of those and wait?” Marie asked. “You have to see how suspect it is, all of this falling in love right when his visa issues were coming up.”

Marie was the one I most needed to convince if this was going to work at all. “I told you. It was how upset I was at the idea of losing him that made me realize I had feelings for him!” This is the story we’ve concocted. That we both had ignored our fondness because we were working together, but that when it seemed he might actually have to leave, not just Chicago and the job, but me, we had to face what was in our hearts.

“And you are sure that your feelings for him aren’t just some misplaced guilt that you couldn’t do more for him in other ways? Or simple loneliness?” Marie was a dog with a bone, and I think that she really suspects this whole thing is a farce. Which, of course, it is, and deep down I really wish I could tell her the truth, even more than the other girls. But I can’t ask her to keep that secret, to give her that burden, and I can’t betray Jag’s trust that we wouldn’t tell a soul. This is the ultimate test for an unnatural liar like me, but I don’t have a choice.

“I promise you. And I thank you. Because you warning me about the future I faced made me have to really look into my heart, and when I did I realized that all this time I spent with Jag I had been pushing my feelings away because I didn’t want to get hurt again. When I decided to be honest and brave the way you told me to be, I had to admit that I really wanted him in my life in a romantic way and the whole thing just fell into place!” Marie’s eyes softened, because at her core she just wants me happy, and she’s a sucker for a good romantic story, and I knew that I had her. Which made me feel even shittier. But I needed to seal the deal. “I know it seems fast, but I promise you, this is exactly what my heart most wants, you guys, and I really just want you to be happy for me.”

Which is true. Marrying Jag is about the smartest thing I could do. I keep my partner, keep plugging away at the house, get the girls all off my back on dating and romance and my being alone. For someone who has given up on the very idea of a real marriage ever being in her future, a fake marriage that gets me what I need professionally? It’s kind of genius, actually.

Emily is the only one who wholeheartedly approves.

“It’s so ROMANTIC!” she gushed when I told her. “Like a fairy tale!” She did grow up like two hundred miles from Disney World. But she was immediately, unequivocally in favor of the marriage, so there are apparently some benefits to having a twenty-one-year-old around. She and I are slowly figuring out what exactly we can do to help get her out of her Harvard jam, and I agreed reluctantly to let her be Schatzi’s dog walker, as long as she promised not to ask a lot of me. I’m only finding her tedious and annoying about 75 percent of the time, but it is really nice not to have to deal with the dog, so she gets some points for that.

“You are just the most beautiful bride, Anneke! Thank you so much for including me,” Emily says. She’s wearing about a half a yard of flowy fabric on her leggy frame, a bare swipe of mascara and a dab of lip gloss, and her blond hair twisted up in a messy bun. She looks like a supermodel. Who just had sex. With Taye Diggs. On a unicorn.

“Wouldn’t have done it without you.” I’m feeling weirdly giddy and magnanimous.

The whole wedding got pulled together in less than ten days; we wanted to be sure to get married well before the information about Jag’s dropping out of school became part of his official record. This way our story is that he dropped out BECAUSE we fell in love and got married and want to renovate the house, not that we got married because he dropped out of school.

We sit together and play our parts, accepting the toasts, the good-natured ribbing about the speed of our courtship, and the speculations about whether there would be a tiny little Singh arriving soon. We kiss when people clink their glasses, Jag’s lips shockingly soft on mine, his beard scented with something that smells like lime and spice. We drink delicious champagne from Carl’s ample cellar. In general, it is a wonderful wedding. I’m enjoying myself immensely. It isn’t anything like the wedding Grant and I had been planning, but in many ways, it feels more real. Personal and meaningful. The wedding Grant and I talked about was to get all of his chef pals to create an insane meal; the ceremony was almost incidental.

“Time to cut the cake, newlyweds.” Caroline ushers us over to the sweet little two-tier cake, round and covered in white fondant with what appear to be traditional henna tattoo patterns drawn on it in pale gold. We take the mother-of-pearl-handled knife, apparently the one Caroline and Carl used at their wedding, and, his hand on mine, cut a small slice. We feed each other a generous bite, marveling at the tender almond cake with the poached apricots and white chocolate mousse, light-as-air buttercream scented with vanilla and orange blossom water.

I’m taking a second bite when the front door flies open.

“Stop! Don’t! Please!” An out-of-breath Grant runs into the room, wild-eyed and sweating.

Everything stops.

John and Carl jump into action, quickly heading for Grant’s side, and ushering him forcefully into Carl’s study.

Crap.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll be right back,” I whisper to Jag, and Caroline rushes to cut slices of cake for the bewildered guests, while Hedy and Marie go into “nothing to see here” distraction mode, and Emily stands in the middle of the room, jaw hanging open.