Page 38 of A Recipe Called Home

Overall, the rehearsal wasn’t terrible. It wasn’t good, either, but it could be fixed. The worst part was the drunk male lead who couldn’t find his mark to save his life. Other than that, the cast only needed to memorize their lines, and they’d have a show.

On their way out to the parking lot afterwards, Winnie wondered aloud if she should call up the lead’s understudy for Friday night's show, but Jules convinced her to give him one more chance. Didn’t she remember the shenanigans they got up to in high school? Maybe he’d kick it into high gear for the next rehearsal.

“We’ll see,” said Winnie, already tired. “Meet you there?”

“Sure thing, boss,” Jules shot back before sliding into Rosa’s Subaru.

She hoped an evening of socialization would help Winnie relax. All afternoon her friend became more tightly wrung, as if she were a jack-in-the-box waiting to explode. It was very unlike Winnie. Something was off.

Chapter 14

Juleswasamazedbyhow much effort Winnie and Emily had put into the party. It was only supposed to be an intimate get-together, a reason to see friends, but throughout the house hung streamers and banners that read, ‘Welcome Back’ and ‘The Jule is Back in Town’. She didn’t know what to say and wondered why they'd go through this much trouble just because she was back for a few weeks. Didn’t they realize it wasn’t a permanent thing?

Jules groaned at the thought of having to correct everyone tonight when they asked her about it.

Sensing her apprehension, Emily looped her arm through Jules' and steered her into the kitchen where she had been arranging charcuterie boards full of deli meats, sliced cheeses, grapes, nuts, and olives. Bottles of white wine were chilling in metal buckets of ice on the kitchen island next to bottles of red and empty wine glasses ready to be filled.

“I know it’s a lot,” said Emily in a hushed voice. Winnie had gone to change her clothes before people arrived, so it was just the two of them. “But Winnie needed a distraction. She’s been out of her mind with worry about the play and other things,” she said, waving her hand in the air. “I hope you don’t mind all the fuss.”

Jules understood. Throwing herself into things helped Winnie during stressful times. It was her coping mechanism.

“I don’t mind. I’m flattered but also a bit worried people will think I’m moving back for good,” Jules said, helping Emily slice the last of the two blocks of Gouda. “I’m not sure what I’m doing, and I don’t know how to explain it to people yet.”

Emily cocked her head in thought. “Well, fuck ‘em. Just say you’re working on a confidential project. It’s technically not a lie. You are working onyou. You don’t owe anyone the details, especially not these people.”

Jules knew Emily was right. She didn’t owe anyone anything right now, besides her grandmother. At that moment, she decided she was going to enjoy the night and not worry too much about what people she didn’t know anymore thought about her.

She gave Emily a tight side hug at the counter and said, “Thank you. I think that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

The night progressed, with people showing up at six on the dot, toting in more bottles of wine to add to the kitchen collection. A few men held what looked like expensive whiskey bottles, but Jules knew nothing about brown liquor, only that she didn’t have a taste for it. Jules kept a watchful eye on the front door for the first hour, expecting, hoping, for Miles to walk in, but he never did.It’s for the best, she thought to herself after a while.

What she saw, however, was Winnie following Emily around like a nervous child, asking every few minutes if she felt alright, wanted to sit, or needed water. She had insisted on bringing Emily a plate of food and then making a show of rubbing her shoulders. At one point, Jules made up a reason she needed Winnie’s help in the kitchen, just to give Emily a few minutes of space, which was returned with a wordless ‘thank you’ from Emily.

To Jules’ surprise, she knew almost everyone at the party, except for a few spouses who tagged along. It was amazing to her how many people who grew up in Riverbend stayed and made their lives here. And for the most part, they seemed happy. Many of them were teachers in the school district, but a few commuted to work in Chicago.

The conversations were easy going, and no one asked or even seemed to care much what she did for a living, which was a refreshing change. In D.C., it was one of the first questions asked when you met someone:What do you do?It was the way people sized each other up out there.How important are you? Are you worth knowing or just a waste of time?Not here. People were genuinely nice and talked about the local football team, their kids, or what they were growing in their gardens.

Even some friends she hadn’t seen since high school were there. After making a first round through the party greeting guests, she tucked herself away in a cozy corner of the living room with two friends, reminiscing and catching up. She’d missed a lot in the past twelve years: Jill already had four kids! Jules couldn’t even imagine having one kid, let alone four. But her friend beamed with pride as she swiped through pictures of them on her phone. Her other friend, Veronica, played in the Chicago Philharmonic. Impressed, Jules asked her why she still lived in Riverbend rather than move to the city.

“My life is here. My family and friends. Right now, it works for me. But maybe in the future, I’ll end up somewhere else. Who knows?” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

That made Jules’ mind spin off in a new direction. Was anything ever truly permanent? Just because you might decide to do a thing now or even for a period of time, it doesn’t mean you have to do it forever, right? She liked the idea of reinvention and trying on multiple versions of herself. It differed from how her Grandma Rosa approached life, and veered dangerously close to her mother’s ideology, but the notion intrigued her. Could she change her way of thinking from black and white to a more flexible approach? Running into Veronica shifted Jules' thinking at the exact right time.

Later that night, after all the guests had left and Emily had gone to bed early, exhausted from the day, Winnie and Jules cleaned up. They were rinsing dishes in the sink when Jules asked Winnie if she was alright. It was as if someone had let the air out of an overfilled balloon; Winnie hung her head and slumped her shoulders forward over the sink, letting out a long, heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice as a sob leaked out.

Jules grabbed her friend, wrapping her arms around Winnie’s shoulders. She hadn’t seen her this worried since her mother’s battle with breast cancer a few years ago.

“You can tell me anything, or we don’t have to talk. I can just hold you if that’s what you need,” she said.

Winnie turned away, making her way to the pedestal table set in an alcove of windows near the back of their kitchen, as Jules followed.

“I’m just a bundle of anxiety lately,” she started. “I know I’m on Emily’s last nerve, but I can’t help it.”

“What’s going on? Anything I can help with?” Jules asked.

“No, you’re already helping by giving me a distraction and support for the play. But it’s all just a lot right now. The play, the pregnancy, everything.” Jules just nodded along, encouraging her friend to continue. “I’m so excited for the baby. But I’m also scared as shit.”

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