Page 55 of A Recipe Called Home

“Will you stay in Riverbend?” he asked, smile stretching across his face.

Chapter 20

BarbhungaroundRiverbendfor a few more days to keep an extra set of eyes on Rosa. The doctor said she’d be fine. Two of her medications had interacted poorly, causing the light-headedness, which she’d apparently been experiencing for weeks. Barb and Jules both made Rosa promise to tell them if she was ever having any side effects again and she begrudgingly agreed.

In the commotion of the past day, Jules had almost forgotten about the call she had scheduled with Julian from theWashington Post. Needing some air, she stepped out on the front porch to take the call, noting that the yard needed to be mowed.

As she sat on the concrete steps waiting for his call, Jules thought of the dream she had the previous night, wrapped in Miles’ arms. In it, someone she didn’t recognize handed her a large, heavy book. She could see it as clearly as if it were with her now: the book was simple, adorned with a red trim and cream background on the cover and a title in a handwritten script that read, “A Recipe Called Home.” Her name stretched across the bottom in block letters.

When Jules’ phone rang in her hand, she rolled her shoulders back and answered, “Hi, Julian. I think I know what I want to write now, but I need your help.”

***

“You take the bedroom, Mom. I can sleep in the basement or on the couch in the living room for a few nights,” Jules said to Barb over dinner that night.

“Or at Miles’,” her grandma said with a devilish grin. Jules smacked her arm but didn’t deny it. Miles would be a part of her life, one way or another.

For dinner, Jules had made a special seafood pasta and delectable tiramisu cake to make up for the special meal she’d planned for them last weekend that had to be postponed for Bear Ball preparations.

The three generations of women sat around the small kitchen table, just as they had hundreds of times before. It was special, that table. It served as a refuge in the storm, a place of celebration and sometimes mourning. It had been witness to their lives. But right now, the table connected them.

Jules got up to clear their dinner plates, but instead of bringing the cake to the table, she set down a set of wrapped gifts in front of Grandma Rosa.

“I’ve been waiting to give these to you,” she said. Barb leaned forward to get a better view. Jules stopped her grandma as she reached for the card first. “Read that last.”

Following instructions, she peeled the wrapping paper off at the taped seams of the larger package. Taking her time, she folded the paper into a neat pile next to her and examined the gift. She inhaled, sliding her fingers over the inscription her husband had carved into the heavy wooden cutting board in front of her.

“Oh, Jules. Where did you find this?” she asked.

“In Grandpa’s workroom. He left it on the stairs, just waiting for someone to finish it.”

“Thank you,” she said, eyes locked on the board. “He must have left it for you to find. He knew I’d never step foot in that dusty place.”

Jules loved the way her grandma’s face softened when she talked about Grandpa Lou. They were still connected, even through space and time. She caressed the cutting board, placing it on the table and tapping it twice for good measure.

Next, she opened the second gift, which was smaller but just as heavy.

“What is it?” Barb asked.

“It’s a cookbook I found when Winnie and I were in Chicago. I thought Grandma would enjoy it,” Jules said. Turning back to her grandma, she added, “It highlights old Italian restaurants and recipes from the neighborhoods you’d be familiar with.”

She thanked Jules, thumbing through it before setting it down next to the cutting board and lifting the flap on the card Jules had rewritten that afternoon, following her call with Julian. As she read, her eyes flicked up to her granddaughter in shock and delight. She tenderly folded the card back into its envelope and placed it with the other gifts.

“I knew you’d figure it out. And you know you can stay here as long as you like. It’s your home, too.”

“So does that mean you’ll help me write it?”

“Write what?” her mom asked, as if she were missing out on a shared secret. They both laughed, each grabbing a hand around the table to form a circle.

“Our very own cookbook,” Jules said.

Epilogue

May 2024

Julestookonelastlook at herself in the full-length mirror behind the bathroom door in her house—the one she now shared with Miles after breaking the lease on her D.C. apartment. She couldn’t decide if she looked ridiculous or appropriately dressed for Riverbend High’s senior prom. Her sleeveless red satin gown hugged her body, skimming the floor over her silver heels and the sharp V-shaped neckline complimented the soft waves in her hair, plunging to a conservative depth but stopping just before revealing too much for an adult chaperone.

Before she could second-guess her dress choice, Miles appeared behind her, placing a lingering kiss at the nape of her neck.

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