Recipe for Disaster (41 page)

“So, let’s get down to brass tacks, shall we?” Hedy asks.

I chew a featherlight ravioli. “Tack away.”

“Anneliese is coming,” Marie says, wrinkling her nose as if she is smelling something rotten.

“Yep.”

“And Emily doesn’t know,” Caroline says.

“Correct.”

“Have you thought any more about the best way to handle that?” Hedy asks, pulling the leg off of the whole duck Tony sent out with her fingers, and tucking in like she’s at a family picnic.

“I can’t really decide. On the one hand, Anneliese isn’t coming anywhere near the house except for Thanksgiving Day, and Emily will be safely on the East Coast, spending the holiday with her dad. So I don’t think it would be at all hard to just not tell her at all. On the other hand, a part of me really wonders if it wouldn’t be the best thing for her, to meet her again, to see her for what she is, take the rose-colored glasses off.”

“And this is about protecting Emily, and not yourself?” Marie asks.

“Meaning?”

She takes a deep breath. “Anneliese was the crappiest possible mom to you. But Emily remembers her as a great mom.”

“Who left.”

“As she always does. But still, who was a great mom for long enough that after all this time she remembers her more fondly than not, true?” Caroline says.

“Fair enough. What’s the point?”

“The point,” Marie says, “is that I think it’s only fair to be certain that keeping Emily from a reunion is about believing that Emily is better off not seeing Anneliese for who she really is, and not about being afraid that the two of them will have some lovey-dovey reunion, and reinforce your deep-down belief that it was your fault she never loved you.”

Harrumph. “I hate that you know my secret shit.”

“Oh, honey, that is not a secret,” Hedy says, dropping the perfectly cleaned duck bone on her plate. “That is some right-upfront-on-your-shoulder, written-all-over-your-face shit.”

“You know it’s not true, deep down, right? Your mother’s inability to be a parent to you is not your fault and completely her own problem.” Caroline’s eyebrows are reinforcing this opinion emphatically.

“Yes, bitches, deep down I know that my mother is a coldhearted, sociopathic ice queen incapable of actual love, and I was a perfect child who deserved better.”

“Sing it, sister,” Marie says.

“This does not help with the Emily thing.”

“I think you should tell her,” Caroline says. “She’s a big girl, let her have some face time, let her try to get some answers, or at least some closure.”

“I’m with Caroline, although I think you just tell Emily and let her decide if she wants to see the old bag.”

“I hate to disagree, guys, but I’m leaning toward not,” Marie says. “The chances are just so much better that it will just be horrible and hurtful. After all, Emily didn’t come here looking for a mother; she came looking for a big sister. And a big sister protects you. She doesn’t send you into the lion’s den.”

“Look, Emily is a sweet kid. She’s managed to figure out how to not be bitter and angry about Anneliese’s abandonment and ruination of her darling dad. I’m with Marie; I think maybe the best thing is to just let the visit happen and not mention it, and if Emily ever asks me about contact information for Mommie Dearest, I’ll give it to her and let what happens, happen.”

“You do what you think is best; we’ll take our cues from you,” Caroline says, and for the first time since I left Grant, I actually think that she believes I’ll make a smart decision, and that is all that matters.

“What I need to do at the moment is hit the bathroom.” We’ve gone through a bottle of prosecco and almost two of red, plus a couple of bottles of sparkling water. I have to pee like a racehorse.

“I have to check in with John; he might want me to meet up with him after dinner,” Marie says, and heads toward the front door to make a call.

I go to the bathroom, grateful that my girls are not the sort who all need to hit the bathroom together, and blissfully the room is free. I settle into a stall, and let her rip. Then I hear the door open and clicking heels enter.

“Did you see that Annaconda girl here tonight?” Holy shit, it’s Disco Barbie.

“I know! Crazy. Did you see how much they ordered?” Looks like Pinky Tuscadero Barbie is also in the house. “She should eat up while she has the chance. Sounds like Liam sure seems to have her where he wants her, and she’s not long for her project.” My pee stops midstream.

“Serves her right.”

“Murph said that he is buying out her other investor on her stupid house, so that between him and Liam they’ll have majority control.”

Disco Barbie laughs. “What an idiot. You’d think she’d have known better than to open her mouth like that. Carmex is a bitch.” And I’M the idiot.

“I dunno. It seems kind of mean. They already told all the workers to not work with her anymore. And I know that Murph called all his friends at the other firms to say not to hire her.” Great, not just blacklisted with the subs, but with all the other high-end design/build companies as well.

“Well, whatever. I just wish we could see her smug face when she realizes that Murph and Liam have totally fooled her. Murph wants to come in and tell her that she’s out, and then they can finish it quick with all their guys and sell it fast.” That absolute SHITSTAIN.

And Liam. After everything he’s done, after everything I was beginning to believe about him, the fact that I was even thinking that I might really have feelings for him. I could strangle him. And Grant. Selling me out to Murph? All these phone conversations about his financial needs, and never once telling me it was MURPH trying to buy him out. My blood is boiling.

“Where are we going next?”

“I dunno. The boys want to go to some bar.”

I can hear their heels clicking as they leave the bathroom, and when the door closes, as if a switch has been flipped, I start to pee again. I’ve never peed angry before, but I wonder if I am literally blasting the finish off the porcelain. I hope Tony is planning on a lot of desserts for us, because if I’m going to manage to get through the rest of dinner without telling the girls about Grant and the money, and Liam, and now this little Murph wrinkle? I’m going to need an enormous amount of sweetness in my face. And definitely more to drink.

H
ey, Grant, it’s Anneke. I know you are probably finishing up service, which is good, because I think if I heard your voice right now I might lose my shit completely. So let me make something clear. You let Brian Fuckhead Murphy buy out ONE CENT of my house? And I will bring a shitstorm down on your head of biblical proportions. After everything, the IDEA that you would even ENTERTAIN an offer from him just makes me sick. You aren’t half the man I thought you were, and I hope you know that if you push me, I will protect myself. By any means necessary. You spectacular ASSHOLE.”

Right before I fall asleep in my clothes I momentarily think that perhaps I should have waited till morning to make that particular call, but what the hell. Done is done.

T
he doorbell rings awfully early. I throw on my robe, and go to make my way upstairs, waving off Emily, who pokes her face out of her room to see what’s up. I go upstairs and wrench open the door.

“Figured you’d need this.” Grant proffers a large cup of coffee. Instinctively I reach out and take it. “Can I come in?”

I step aside so he can enter. Schatzi comes skittering down the hallway and launches into his arms, and the two of them have a very slobbery reunion.

He whistles, still snuggling the dog. “It’s looking amazing, Anneke, everything you said it would be and more.”

“And?”

“And I got your message.” Schatzi nibbles his earlobe.

“Clearly.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Right.”

He puts the dog down and looks deep into my eyes. “Anneke, I did not know it was Murph. The calls were all from a lawyer, he only ever referred to his client, no names. I had no idea it was him. You have to know I’d never do that to you, no matter what financial shit I was going through personally. Don’t you?”

I shrug. “Never thought you’d cheat either, never thought you liked boys, there’s a lot of stuff I never would have thought and yet . . .” I wave my arms around. “Here we are.”

“I deserve that. Can we sit? Please?”

I motion him over to the couch. “Thank you for not selling to him.”

Schatzi leaps up onto his lap, and he scratches between her ears. “You don’t need to thank me, I’m here to thank you; I would have hated to sell not knowing and then find out later. I’m grateful you saved me from myself.”

“I live to serve.”

“Can I ask where you are getting the fifty grand for this week?”

Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them back. “No.”

“Fair enough. I’m going to ask the investors to hold off on the rest till end of January. Do you think you can really sell this place by then?”

“I hope so.”

“I’ll make them wait. If you can get me the fifty, I’ll make them wait. And no profit sharing, okay, just the fifty and then the remaining one-fifty, and we’re done, like I promised.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, it’s the least I can do. Especially if I want to avoid some biblical repercussions.” He smirks.

“I was a little drunk. And a lot mad. Sorry.”

“You were more than entitled. I’ve been a spectacular ass.”

“True enough.”

“Can I come back and see it when it’s done?”

“Of course.”

“Can I come back and see you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I’ll take it. And Anneke?”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever happens, I’ll always be glad that we were what we were, for the time we had.”

I think about that. I can’t say it in return, but I can’t leave him hanging. “Thanks for that,” is all I can manage. “I’ll send over a check by Friday.”

“Great. Talk to you later.” He gives the dog one last smooch, and then heads out. I sit on the couch, nursing my coffee and my headache.

“What check?” Jag says, coming down the stairs.

Crap. “Nothing, sorry we woke you, thought you were at Nageena’s last night.”

“She had an early morning. Didn’t sound like nothing. Sounded like Grant.”

“Yeah. He had an offer to buy out his share of the house. From Murph.”

“Wow, that’s shitty.”

“Not as shitty as the fact that he and Liam were colluding to get more than half so they could push me out.”

“Liam said that?”

“I heard it.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“I wish I didn’t. Anyway, Grant isn’t going to do it, but . . .”

“But you have to give him money?”

I nod. “A chunk now, the rest when we sell.”

“How much is a chunk?”

“Fifty grand.”

“Whew. That’s not a chunk, that’s a gouge.”

“Yeah. But it’s worth it. I’ll recoup it when we sell.”

“We.”

“We what?”

“WE will recoup it when we sell, wife. You remember the whole ‘richer/poorer’ thing we said in front of all of our friends? We’re in this together. Good and bad. I’ve got thirty liquid, so that is something.”

“I can’t let you . . .”

“I’ve got ten,” Emily says, coming up the stairs. “My dad deposited it, he thinks he’s paying my rent and expenses here, but you aren’t letting me pay anything, so it’s just sitting there.”

“No, guys, it’s very sweet of you, but it’s okay, I’m going to cash in some of my stocks, it’s all good.”

“No it is not, and no you will not. You know that is the dumbest way possible to raise capital. Emily, that is very generous of you, and we would love to have you as an actual partner, lord knows you’ve done enough hard labor. You put in your ten, and you’ll get a smidge of the profits when we sell.” Jag is very sure of himself, and for the first time, it feels sort of good to have someone taking charge, solving a problem. “Anneke, that just leaves ten grand. Do you have that much without having to liquidate anything?”

I think about this, and nod. “I have just the thing.” Looks like the earrings are going to go after all. Seems fitting.

“Alright, that is the first problem solved. Now we just have to talk to Liam.”

“What does Liam have to do with anything?” Emily asks.