3. Nettle Soup
NETTLE SOUP
*Use tongs. Nettles sting until they are cooked through.
“ O bviously, you have to go,” Joni declared.
I looked out a window toward a small pond and one corner of an old stable that looked like it might blow over with a bad storm.
Ondine had the evening off to rest before the extravaganza the following night, and the family was dining at the nearby yacht club. Too busy to drive me back to the train station, Carlos had handed me the keys to one of the staff vehicles and told me to have fun on my last night of freedom.
I knew what he meant. The Lyons family was demanding at best, despotic at worst. In a few days, I’d be waking up at at before five to prep the family’s meals and get off around eight, maybe later. Sometimes, much later, if they had company. And the Lyonses often had company.
Anyone in their right mind would have gone straight to the city to reunite with friends, have some drinks, and act twenty- five for one more night before jumping into the deceptively chaotic life of a live-in chef.
I, however, had left those sorts of friends in Paris. So, instead, I’d gone to Ardsley, a neighboring Westchester suburb where Joni and her boyfriend, Nathan, were looking over a property he had just purchased. Well, they had purchased, since Nathan had put the house in both of their names.
I still didn’t know what to make of that.
Lea’s four kids were playing on the lawn, thrilled to be outside the city. The oldest, eleven-year-old Tommy, shepherded his younger brothers, Peter and MJ, around the grass while they all kept an eye on Lupe, their two-year-old sister.
“Tommy reminds me of Matthew,” I remarked as I watched them play tag.
Joni and I were almost the same age as Lupe when our own father had passed away in a drunk driving accident, and our mom was sent to prison for being the one at the wheel.
All five Zola kids had gone to live with our grandparents, but in some ways, our brother and Lea had raised us just as much as Nonna and Nonno did.
Joni looked over from where she was perched on an avocado-colored kitchen island beside Nathan, who was examining a set of blueprints with one brawny hand firmly on her knee.
“Yeah, that boy definitely had to grow up this year. It’s tough learning to be the man of the house, but I will say, he’s pretty good at it.
He didn’t even want me out there with them.
Said he could take care of them himself. ”
“He shouldn’t have to, though,” I said.
“You try telling that to a Zola,” Joni replied.
We watched as Tommy jumped out to rescue Lupe before she stuck some unknown plant in her mouth. I knew what we were both thinking—how many times had our older brother or sisters done that for the two of us, the babies of our family? And how much had it cost of their own childhoods too?
I turned back toward the dusty interior of the split-level, which was covered in faux wood paneling, shag carpet, and stained Formica. “Tell me again why you bought this house? It smells like Nonna’s sweaters that year the moths got to them.”
“I don’t think that’s accurate,” Nathan remarked without looking up from the plans. “The inspector looked for moth nests and didn’t find anything. Nor did he find any skeletons.”
I blinked. “Skeletons?”
“In the closet,” Joni clarified with a chuckle.
It took a few seconds for me to get it. Joni had warned me that sometimes her boyfriend didn’t understand jokes right away, and the occasional ones he made wouldn’t sound like jokes either.
I had met Nathan Hunt briefly last spring when Joni had visited me under less fortunate circumstances, and he had followed her to Paris to beg her to come home.
Based on our few interactions, I knew little more that Nathan and Joni were a pair of opposites.
A brainy doctor with an extroverted dancer, he was even her physical inverse: a stolid, enormous tree offering a home to the chaotic nymph that was my sister.
And yet, despite all their differences, they both seemed devoted to one another.
It didn’t take a genius to realize the changes in Joni’s character—the sudden maturity, the new desire to care for others as much as herself, and the confidence with accepting her previously undiagnosed neurodivergence—were all directly influenced by Nathan.
She smacked a kiss on Nathan’s cheek, which made him jerk up with a surprised expression that quickly morphed into unconcealed desire. Just as quickly, he adjusted his glasses and return to his study.
“You and your jokes,” she murmured before turning back to me. “For your information, we bought it for the land and the stable, not the structure. Three acres, less than an hour from the city, is primo, so we’re going to tear down the house and build up from the foundation. Hence the plans.”
The goal was to build a new house and refurbish the stable to make a space for her, Nathan, and the family they wanted to have one day, which would include a girl named Isla, an autistic horse enthusiast and Nathan’s longtime ward.
I was a little fuzzy on the details, but it all seemed very generous. And complicated. And yet another dimension of Joni’s growth.
“Don’t change the subject,” she said. “Tell me you have something to wear. You obviously did a bunch of shopping in Paris.”
I sighed. Not everything had changed. My sister was still like a dog with a bone when it came to interfering with my social life. Or lack thereof.
“Daniel didn’t invite me , Jo,” I said. “He invited the cute girl from the plane, the neighbor he didn’t remember he had. He did not invite the cook.”
“So what?” She kicked her legs back and forth on the island. “You’re cute no matter where you work. Show up, look hot, and he won’t care if you collect trash for a living.”
She made it sound so easy. Despite being older, I’d always lived in Joni’s shadow.
My “twin” was effervescent, flirtatious, and shameless.
At a party where everyone was worth at least a hundred million dollars and she probably had twenty in her bank account, she would flash her brightest smile, strike up a conversation, and feel right at home.
I was more likely to blend in with the houseplants.
“It’s inappropriate,” I said. “I’m on staff. I can’t just waltz into the party like I actually belong there.”
“Wait, it’s at Prideview?” Joni sat up straight.
I rolled my eyes. “Jo, where else? I’ve only been working there since I was fifteen. Did you forget the name?”
Joni ignored me and turned to Nathan. “Babe, didn’t we get an invitation to that?”
Nathan pushed his glasses up his nose. “Yes. It’s Clifford and Winnifred’s anniversary party. They invite my family every year.”
One thing I had to give him credit for—whenever he spoke to Joni, he gave her his whole attention.
I hadn’t seen any man look at a woman like that.
Not even my brother or the men my other sisters had married, all of them obviously smitten with their wives.
The man was laser-focused on Joni whenever they interacted.
“ See . I was remembering something else.” She wrinkled her nose and pointed and flexed her toes like the dancer she was. “Are your parents going?” She didn’t exactly get along with Nathan’s wealthy family, who primarily lived in Virginia but also had a house next to the Lyonses in New Rochelle.
Nathan seemed distracted by what she was doing with her feet and how it made her muscles move. Joni wore very small shorts in the summer.
“Er, no. They’re in Virginia right now.” He couldn’t quite tear his gaze from her legs.
Joni turned to me, victorious. “Then we should go too. Marie can come with us, and Daniel will drool. Problem solved.”
I sighed. “Um, no. The problem is not solved. I still work for these people, and the person who invited me only did it before he realized I was the assistant cook.”
“Like I said, he won’t care about that. For all he knew, you could have been a chimney sweep when he asked you.” She nudged Nathan in the shoulder. “Did you care that I was an out- of-work dancer contemplating stripping when we met and you asked me to move in with you?”
Nathan blinked. But his gaze didn’t move away from hers one inch. “I did not.”
“And would you have liked me more if I’d been a doctor like you or a lawyer or something equally special and fancy?”
“Those are just professions. Lots of people perform them. You’re special for things that are unquantifiable and unique to you.”
Joni’s face softened. I looked away as she pressed a kiss to Nathan’s mouth and whispered “thank you” so quietly I almost didn’t hear her.
Something in my chest twisted.
I was glad my sister was so happy. I was.
But it was a little painful to see what was possible…and what I had wanted for most of my sad, lonely life, Paris or not.
“See?” Joni gestured at Nathan, who was back to studying the house plans. “Men don’t care about all of that. Daniel will like you for you.”
But I shook my head. It wasn’t the same. “Daniel Lyons did not ask me to this party because he thinks I’m ‘special.’”
“You don’t know that. The guy talked to you on the plane for nine hours. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t like you.”
Part of me wanted to believe her. But the other part of me, the part that remembered that I had spent the majority of that time listening to Daniel talk about himself, remained stubborn. “I didn’t say much. I was so nervous, I mostly asked him questions about himself.”
“Well, then he asked you because you’re hot.” Joni shrugged, like it didn’t make a difference. “Which you are now, you know. The hair, the clothes—it’s all a very Audrey Hepburn-flavored snack. The expensive kind from Dean and Deluca or maybe one of those deluxe pastries from Paris.”
I couldn’t help the way my cheeks heated from her compliments. Given how Joni and I had sniped at each other as teenagers—I’d been called a pathetic drudge as many times as I’d called her a slutty scatterbrain—the praise meant more than she would ever know.
Or maybe she would.