Page 3 of A Recipe Called Home

After hulling her luggage into the trunk, they pulled away from the airport, taking two wrong turns before finally entering the on-ramp for I-90, going in the right direction. Finally releasing a tense grip on the GPS, they settled into an uncomfortable yet familiar silence.

She didn’t know how to talk to her mom and never had. They could talk about Rosa, but then that would lead to a conversation about why Barb couldn’t take care of her and Jules already knew this story. It was always the same. Some version of a new guy in her life taking priority over anything else.

Barb was a “go-with-the-flow” kind of person who centered her life around the attention of men. It had been this way for as long as she could remember. Now that Jules was an adult, she’d begun to realize what little self-esteem her mother must have had.

After a few minutes, Barb spoke, “I know what you’re thinking. And I’m sorry I can’t be there to help. This time is different, though. I promise.”

Jules angled her head toward her window to watch the green cornfields zip by without responding. There was nothing to say. All it did was stir up old feelings of being forced to grow up young so she could fill in the gaps her mother left empty. Even at the age of ten, she had woken her mother up every morning to make sure she wasn’t late for her shift at the Piggly Wiggly. Jules didn’t expect her to change now.

As they drove up to her grandparents’ house, she spotted the bright red Volkswagen Beetle in the driveway. Her best friend Winnie was already inside, chatting away with Grandma Rosa. She wondered how long she’d been there, silently cringing. Her grandma thought of Winnie as a “small doses” friend, preferring to spend as little time alone with her as possible. Grandma preferred quiet, and Winnie was anything but. She was boisterous and outgoing, with a heart of gold that Jules treasured.

They’d met in sixth grade during cheerleading try-outs. Jules, the shy gangly girl who towered over everyone else; Winnie, the bouncing redhead who couldn’t stand still. They were assigned to the same try-out group, which meant they would go in together to show the judges their memorized routine. Jules had been nervously practicing by the trophy case, stealing glances at her reflection in the glass, when Winnie appeared, breathless and eager.

“Hey, we’re in the same group! Let’s practice. I want to look in sync. I’m Winnie, by the way. You’re Jules, right?” she blurted, hand outstretched.

They both made the squad, and that was that: Jules and Winnie became inseparable all through high school. You didn’t get one without the other, up until Jules moved away for college and eventually D.C., while Winnie stayed in their hometown, earning her teaching degree online. Now, she taught English at the same high school. Jules thought this was a little ironic because Winnie skipped more school than she attended. Even so, she was incredibly smart, and Jules knew her students loved her. How could they not?

Before grabbing her bags, Jules took a deep breath, feeling a sense of relief to be here. Seeing the only house she ever called home felt like a big hug she didn’t realize she needed. It was classical-looking, with four large white pillars flanking the front door that held up a decorative balcony on the second floor.

Now, all the front windows were open and the red brick almost glowed in the late summer sunset. It had been in Grandpa Lou’s family since the mid-nineteenth century. His great aunt and uncle built it when Riverbend was nothing but farmland. Not much had changed since then, except an addition of a downtown area that now serviced its fifteen thousand residents and the highway connecting it to Chicago.

Barb helped Jules wrangle her luggage up the front steps, stopping abruptly at the front door.

“This is as far as I go, Hun,” she said.

Jules set her bag down, turning to face her. “I thought you guys would have made up by now. It’s been a year since you moved out.”

“Afraid not, my dear. She still won’t take my calls. Occasionally, I get a thumbs-up emoji text just so I know she’s still alive.”

A year ago, Barb moved out again to be closer to her boyfriend, causing a huge rift between her and Grandma Rosa. Jules understood her grandma’s frustration. This wasn’t Barb’s first time pulling a stunt like that and leaving for a whirlwind romance. She knew it was only time before she’d come back after the inevitable breakup. By now, Grandma Rosa couldn’t understand why Barb didn’t just swear off men and embrace a “Grey Gardens” life with her instead. Jules suspected her grandma’s loneliness might be at play. Barb had never stayed away this long before.

Jules thanked Barb for the ride, giving her a tight smile and a hug before stepping inside the small foyer lined with oil paintings of Italian countryside landscapes. Bending over to slip her shoes off, a whiff of something baking in the oven danced in the air, beckoning her inside. The smell hit her like a memory: warm, sweet, and familiar. She smiled to herself. Molasses cookies. Her favorite.

She rounded the corner through the formal dining room that boasted an original buffet built for the house and a large table that was always set with her finest chinaware. Jules ran her hand along the green silk tablecloth as she turned the corner into a small but efficient kitchen.

It hadn’t changed much. Still painted yellow, with a compact white farm-style kitchen sink as the focal point. The refrigerator was the same, a time capsule from the sixties, but still humming along. Just seeing the kitchen made her shoulders relax a little, and she felt exhaustion creep up her spine, like it had been waiting for permission.

“Jules!” Winnie squealed, louder than necessary as she dropped the cookies she’d just pulled from the oven on the counter, rushing to wrap her in a dramatic hug. Winnie never abided Jules’ preference for personal space, but Jules didn’t mind.

Jules spotted her petite, yet always flawlessly dressed grandma sipping her coffee, perched on a chair at the square table pushed against the far wall. Her chestnut brown and grey hair was up in the tight French twist she always wore, but exhaustion etched across her face, even though she tried to hide it behind makeup. Jules could see Rosa’s expression over Winnie’s shoulder, eyes wide, pleading for a rescue. Jules gave her grandma a timid hug, careful not to bump her bad hip.

“You don’t have to handle me like a precious teacup, you know,” her grandma teased after they settled around the table. “If you do, it’ll be a long month for the both of us.”

“I know. I’m just being cautious. Everyone knows you can take care of yourself. I’m just here for the company,” Jules explained.

The conversation quickly turned to Jules and her trip, which she recounted, leaving out the work details. Her grandma didn’t understand what Jules did for a living. She couldn’t believe that famous people, especially politicians, didn’t write their own speeches. Jules had given up long ago trying to explain it to her.

“Well, I, for one, am so glad you’re home,” chimed Winnie. “Speaking of, I could use some help tomorrow if you have the time.”

Preparing herself for any number of wild things Winnie might try to rope Jules into, she asked for more details, knowing full well that she’d do it, regardless.

When they were teenagers, Winnie convinced her they should get jobs at the local roller rink even though neither of them could skate. Jules ended up with two broken fingers after a few kids at a birthday party ran her over on the rink, but she got free pizza and soda out of the deal, so she still counted it as a win.

“I’m acting as the director for the next school play. We’re doingOur Townand need help setting up the stage design. I asked for volunteers, but didn’t get many takers. Only three scrawny, typical theater kids. So, I need all the hands I can get,” she explained.

Chapter 2

Thenextmorning,Julesdrove to Riverbend High School in her grandparents’ old Subaru Outback. She still knew the school like the back of her hand. It hadn’t changed much in the time she’d been gone.

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