Recipe for Disaster (37 page)

“It’s my specialty,” Liam says.

“I made the muffins!” Emily says.

“Well, that all sounds wonderful. Do I have time to change?” I have never wanted to put a bra on more in my life.

“Of course, we are about ten minutes out.”

“And I already walked the dog,” Emily says.

“You guys are the best.” I head back downstairs to the basement and quickly get dressed, pull my hair into a bun, and follow the scent of delicious pork products back up to my celebration.

Liam’s hash brown casserole can only be described as so over-the-top ridiculous I fear Paula Deen is sitting somewhere cackling about it. I can tell that there is cheese, butter and sour cream in there, and do not want to know what else. It is delicious, as are the perfectly fried eggs, crispy bacon, buttery toast, and juicy sausages. The muffins are banana chocolate chip, otherwise known as breakfast cake. Liam stopped at Intelligentsia to see my girl Rainn and came well stocked with caffeine, and there is fresh-squeezed orange juice to boot.

We feast, all of us slipping bits of egg, toast, and meats to Schatzi, and talk about where we stand. We are now all operating off the master punch list, and have been trying to divide and conquer as much as possible. Today we are going to install the fixtures in the second-floor bathroom, which will officially take plumbing off the list. Jag did a great job at the salvage yard, finding us a perfect small-scale claw-foot tub that will allow us to have both a tub and a stall shower in the space. He also found a lovely antique tall chest of drawers missing its legs, and convinced us to install it on a tiled riser to appear built-in, which I think will be a very cool look.

“We have a birthday surprise!” Jag says.

“Wasn’t breakfast plenty?”

“Oh, wife, you’re going to love this.” Jag takes my hand and leads me over to the pantry. It takes me a moment to see what is different. Against the far wall, there is a small door. I walk over and open it carefully.

“You rescued the dumbwaiter!” Behind the door is the restored unit, a lovely generous size, with its mini-elevator-call-button mechanics. “However did you do it? And where does it go?”

“We upgraded the electrics, everything else was in pretty good shape. And it opens on the first floor in the prep kitchen.” Since there was a small kitchen in the back of the first level, we thought it made sense to keep it for the owners to use as a catering kitchen for large parties. Having the dumbwaiter available to shuttle dishes from the primary kitchen here on the second floor down to that space is going to be a huge selling point. And I’m deeply touched.

“Thank you, both, so much, what a lovely way to start my birthday.” I kiss Liam on the cheek, and Jag on the mouth, and they both look chuffed and proud of themselves, high-fiving and winking up a storm.

“And I have a birthday surprise too!” Emily says, literally clapping her hands.

“Do tell.” I can’t help but laugh. I’m actually weirdly going to miss her when she leaves in two days.

“I called Harvard and they are going to let me defer for a semester so that I can stay and help finish the house!”

Holy shit. “Emily, that is very sweet, but you need to go to school.” Good GOD she needs to go to school. For the love of everything that is holy she needs to go to school.

“When I told them what I’ve been doing here, they completely understood why I need to stay and see it through.”

“Emily, this is, um . . .”

“Wonderful, Emily, it’s very lovely of you to want to stay, and to be willing to postpone your education to help your sister,” Jag says, coming up behind me and putting his arm around me, squeezing hard, forcing me to do the right thing, as opposed to the thing I want to do.

“Of course, Emily, I’m sorry, I was just surprised, thank you for wanting to stay.”

“I couldn’t leave now, it’s just getting good!” she says.

“I suppose I get out of doing dishes today?”

“Of course!” Emily says. “Go take a little break or something. We got this.” And the three of them start to tackle the insane mess they’ve created in the kitchen.

I go back downstairs to calm my nerves. She’s staying. To the bitter end. Which means that Jag and I are going to have to have a conversation with her about the real state of the marriage. I was counting on her leaving, on getting some normalcy back, and if I have to put up with her for four more months, he is going to have to understand the need to bring her into our confidence.

I’m shaking with frustration. Birthday surprise indeed.

Jag heads out after he finishes cleaning up to go pick up the chest that Juan graciously refurbished for us to thank us for helping his son, who got accepted early decision, and Liam and Emily and I head to install the tub and shower.

“Big birthday plans tonight?” he says, taking a large wrench to the old showerhead.

“Caroline is having a small dinner party for me.”

“Nice. I’m not much of a birthday guy myself.”

“I’m not a birthday girl either, but it’s a reasonably big one; they wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Aren’t you coming? You have to come; it’s an odometer birthday! Caroline said that I could bring someone, you can be my plus-one!” Emily gushes.

“I wouldn’t want to crash the party, especially if it is just the nearest and dearest.” He looks straight into my eyes.

Emily smacks him lightly on the arm. “Silly goose, who is nearer or dearer than you? You must come. We insist, don’t we, Anneke?”

What the hell, I didn’t want the party anyway, might as well. “Of course, Liam, you should absolutely come, the more the merrier.”

“Well then, lass, I guess it’s a date. Dress code?” Emily is looking like she just won the lottery.

“Casual,” she manages to get out. I can practically hear her heart race from here.

“Casual like dark jeans, or casual like my zebra-print Speedo?” he teases, and Emily looks down at his crotch reflexively, and then blushes beet red.

“Jeans would probably be more appropriate,” I say, hoping he didn’t notice her ogle. “I am thirty-five, you know. Speedos are so early thirties.”

“Ah, thirty-five is nothing. I’m rounding the bend toward forty myself.”

“You wear it well.” And then, just to underscore things for both of them: “Emily, doesn’t he look good for being nearly twice your age?”

She just nods, and I know she isn’t listening at all, she’s just figuring out what to wear tonight.

Liam gives a mighty groan and a big push, and with a loud grinding noise the showerhead gives way. In moments we are both being doused with icy cold spray.

“AHHHHH!” I say, trying to block the blast with my hands.

“Crap!” Liam says, trying to get the fixture reattached. “I turned the water off to this space.”

“I beg to differ!” I say, water filling my mouth.

“EEEEEEEEEEEKKK!” Emily shrieks, with more joy than annoyance.

Liam, unable to get the showerhead reattached, starts turning the knobs frantically. Both of which come off in his hands. “FUCK!”

The bathroom is rapidly flooding; we are all soaked to the skin.

“Emily! Remember where the water shutoff is? Go shut it off!” And she runs off down the stairs. Liam finally gets the wrench reattached to the showerhead. “Okay, I’m going to hold this on; you turn with all you’ve got, okay?” he sputters at me. The only way to get hold of the end of the wrench is to duck under Liam’s arms. He holds the wrench head, and I take the free end and push up as hard as I can. I feel it twist and soon the water stops. Liam lets his arms down around me, resting his chin on the top of my head.

“You okay?” he asks into my sopping hair.

“Yeah. You?”

“I think so.” I can feel the full length of his body pressed against my back, and then he starts to laugh. And then I start to laugh. I’m not sure which of us moved first, but whoever it was stepped wrong and slipped in the water puddled on the shower floor, and we both went down in a tangle, me landing on top of Liam. We’re still laughing, and suddenly Liam is brushing my hair off my face and holding my head in his hands, and then he leans up and kisses me. His lips are firm, and then his tongue is in my mouth, and I’ve never felt anything so unbearably sweet in my life. Every fiber of my body is suddenly alive, and we are devouring each other’s mouths while water from my hair drips into our eyes. I can feel him moving beneath me, and all I want is to give myself over to him, to the pleasure that is building so rapidly. And then, unbidden, I get an image of Grant and Gregg in the shower, and despite my body crying out for more, I pull myself away. Liam looks stricken.

“Anneke, I . . . I’m sorry, I . . . I don’t know what . . .”

“Stop. Get yourself together. Clean up the water. I’m going downstairs to dry off, and when Jag gets back, the two of you should deal with the bathroom, I’m going to work on the wallpaper in the vestibule.”

He looks like I stole his puppy. “I’m an ass, Anneke, I can’t believe . . .”

“It’s fine, no biggie, I know you can’t be near any woman without at least trying to get in her pants, it’s just a reflex. Forgotten already.” And as quick as I can, I leave, carefully dripping my way downstairs all the way to the basement bathroom. I’m shivering, and I don’t know if it’s from being cold and wet or hot and bothered, but I run the hot water into the tub regardless. I peel off my sodden clothes and get into the filling tub, curling myself into a ball with my head resting on my knees. I’m still shaking, and I don’t know what is worse: that I have never before in my thirty-five years ever had anyone kiss me in a way that electrified my whole body and briefly made me understand why sex can be so obsessive, or that Liam was the one to do it. The past months are flashing before my eyes, every nice thing he’s done, every time he’s made me laugh, his rescuing me at Home Depot, his support when I ran into Grant. And suddenly it occurs to me that for all of my protestations that he is the most hateful specimen of manhood, I know that just like I wasn’t fully aware how much it would hurt me to leave this house, I have some feelings where Liam is concerned that have nothing to do with annoyance or distaste.

When I stop shivering, I get out of the tub and wrap my towel around me, leaving my soaking clothes on the floor of the shower. I go to my room, pull out fresh clothes, and get dressed. I sit on the bed and reach for the journal.

“Oh, Gemma. What on earth am I going to do?”

The book falls open and my finger finds the page.

“Your body will always tell you what you need. If you crave sweet things, your energy is flagging. If it’s meat you want, your iron is low. When you want potatoes above everything else, there is something not grounded with you. Whatever tricks your head may play on you, however fickle your heart, your body will tell you very specifically what it is you need, and it is up to you to listen.”

Crap. I was counting on Gemma for wisdom about not letting your guard down, or avoiding things that are bad for you, or trusting your first impression. Because if I were to listen to what my body says it wants? That means Liam Murphy on a platter. And I’m not exactly sure what on earth to do with that. Except maybe plan on eating my weight in cake tonight while trying desperately to erase the taste of his kisses.

D
id you have a good birthday, lovely wife?” Jag asks as we walk into the house.

“I did, in spite of myself.”

“You did very well, I think everyone had a good time. Caroline certainly knows how to throw a party.” I follow him into the living room, where we both collapse on the couch.

“She certainly does.” The evening was perfect. Caroline is a genius at entertaining, and really thinks about her audience. Some people throw dinner parties to show off their skills, or set an example of some kind. Sort of like the people who buy you presents that they think you should want as opposed to the presents you actually want. But Caroline is all about delivering pleasure. So instead of doing one of her classic elegant dinner parties with many courses of beautifully plated food, she set up her kitchen with a series of stations inspired by the foods I like best. There were mini Vienna hot dogs with all the classic Chicago toppings. A macaroni ’n’ cheese bar with all kinds of fun add-ins. Cold sesame noodles in tiny white cardboard Chinese take-out containers, sliders served with small cones of skinny fries. Fried chicken legs, barbecued ribs, mini gyros in tiny three-inch pitas. All of it the most delicious and perfectly prepared elevated junk food, complete heaven, and just what I love. She gave us each a bamboo tray with a piece of parchment paper on it to use as plates, and large kitchen tea towels instead of napkins. There were cold beers in a tub, endless bottles of rosé, and a massive birthday cake, chocolate with fluffy vanilla frosting, and rainbow sprinkles. And then, after coffee, mini ice-cream sandwiches on chocolate chip cookies.

“I may have to have her host my birthday party.”

“She’d be delighted. When is it?”

Jag makes a face of mock horror. “WIFE! This is something you should know!”

“I’m too full to remember.”

He laughs. “January twenty-seventh.”

“I’ll put it in my book. And I’ll tell Caroline. She’ll start learning traditional Indian recipes immediately.”