Page 43 of A Recipe Called Home

“But, friendship is all I can offer right now. Anything more and we’re likely to hurt each other, again. I wish it were different, but it just isn’t.”

“That’s just it. I don’t know if Iknowhow to be just your friend. We’ve always been more,” he responded, starting directly at her now.

A pit in Jules’ stomach grew. She didn’t know how to be just his friend, either. Hell, just standing here, watching him put his guitar away in his tight light-washed blue jeans and signature black V-neck had her mind going to many unfriend-like places.

“Maybe it’s best if we just give each other some space for a while to figure it out,” he suggested, running his hand over his face.

She wanted to sink even farther into the floor. His words gutted her. And even though she knew he was right, it brought her right back to the summer after graduation, feeling alone and unwanted.

“Yeah. If that’s what you think,” she whispered. “I can give you space.”

“Sorry, Jules. It’s just a lot to process and I need to do it my own way." He turned away from her to pick up his guitar case and slung it over his shoulder.

She understood. This was her fault, after all. She should never have started anything with him she wasn’t ready for. It could never just be easy and casual with Miles; she was a fool to think it could.

“Got it,” she said, nodding and heading toward the door. “Guess I’ll see you around, then. Bye, Miles.”

She heard him say a quiet, “Bye, Jules,” just before she reached the door, wondering if Jax, Roxy and the handful of other customers in the place heard all of that. God, she hoped not.

She hurried as fast as she could to the car without running, but before she could even turn the ignition, her tears welled over. How was she here, again? Crying over the same guy who’d shattered her heart into a million tiny shards years ago? Sitting alone in her grandma’s Subaru, she made a deal with herself. She would let herself cry until she got home, and that’s it. After that, she’d only look forward.

As she lurched the car in drive, she remembered she’d forgotten to tell him about helping Roxy with the school benefit.Maybe this town was too small for both of them, she thought to herself.

Taking it as a sign, she texted Benjamin from theWashington Postwhen she returned home to set up a time to connect the next day. It was time to explore her options.

***

Wednesday meant another evening cooking at The Landing. This time, Jules would be on her own. Earlier that day, Grandma Rosa had not so subtly told her it was “sink or swim.” Jules had a feeling her great-grandfather had given Rosa more than one lesson in the restaurant kitchen before leaving her to her own devices.

But if Jules was anything, she was a planner, so it didn't take long for her to come up with a detailed list of what she needed for that night's menu which she could cook in her sleep: an easy spaghetti pomodoro with a roasted zucchini and red pepper side. For dessert, pies from John’s Shoppe would have to do. Baking was never her strong suit, anyway.

Jules rushed through her shopping list and made it to the retirement community with hours to spare. She had a call with Benjamin that afternoon, too.

After organizing the ingredients and necessary cooking tools, she prepped by chopping the tomatoes, zucchini, and red peppers until her hand felt as if it might fall off. Didn’t most chefs have kitchen staff? Needing to prove to herself and her grandma she could do this, she pressed on, knowing she’d be sore tomorrow. Gone were her days of sitting at a computer typing away, although she didn’t much mind. Cooking at this scale kept both her hands and mind busy for hours at a time, leaving little room to think about anything else.

By the time everything was chopped, trimmed, and simmering in a large pot, Jules had just a few minutes to gather her thoughts before ringing Benjamin at the agreed time. Surprised to find herself nervous, she dialed his number in the back corner of the quiet kitchen.

“Jules, so glad to hear from you, again!” he greeted her with a booming voice.

He seemed to genuinely like his job, which made Jules even more eager to tell him she was interested in working forThe Washington Post, but she had some stipulations if they were to move forward.

For one, her time working for Secretary Monahan was off-limits, she would not talk about it. And second, she wanted to explore the option to work remotely with travel as needed.

“That all sounds reasonable. Why don’t I set up a time for you to meet with our editor to discuss this more?”

Jules agreed.

Feeling powerful and in control of her future, Jules crushed the dinner service. Sure, it was a stressful few hours in the kitchen, but everything came together except for a few overcooked zucchinis that ended up in the trash.

Tired to the bone, she went home, wondering how professional chefs did that every night without their bodies giving out. Although exhausting, she was grateful for the opportunity to learn more about cooking, preparation, and self-reliance in a large kitchen. Not to mention, she didn’t have time to think about Miles.

The editor of theWashington Postcalled Jules the next morning for the informal interview Benjamin had arranged. Julian Arnault was an accomplished journalist with over thirty years in the business. Jules had never met him, but anyone in D.C. who kept up with the news knew of him. He had more Pulitzer Prizes than she could count and was most recently an editor at theNew York Timesbefore taking on the role ofWaPo’smanaging editor. To say she was nervous was an understatement. She couldn’t keep her hands steady as she picked up the phone, standing to pace her childhood bedroom.

“Hello, is this Jules Cuccia?” Julian’s voice boomed through the phone with an ambiguous accent. Mandatory pleasantries exchanged, Julian got right to business.

“So, I hear you may be interested in joining us as a regular columnist here atWaPo?”

“Yes, I spoke to Benjamin earlier this week and it sounds like an intriguing opportunity, but I’d love to hear more about your vision for the role,” she countered, trying to sound calm and professional.

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