Chapter 8 Pasta Bolognese
Through my bedroom window, I catch sight of the leaves in all their glory.
Yellows, reds and oranges are shimmering against the blue sky as if they are alive.
They are going to drop soon and fade into nothingness for the winter.
My connection to their journey is so strong I feel a sense of contentment despite what it means for me; I press my palm against my window.
Later that day, I’m with Vee and she is bent over her laptop. We’ve moved on from Polish staples and now are finding fun recipes on the internet to make together. I pull up a chair at the kitchen table, our heads are almost touching as I check out the recipes she is scrolling through.
Suddenly, Vee leans back, takes a deep breath and announces, “I think I’m ready to go back to my apartment.”
I don’t say anything and wait expectantly, no longer interested in the recipe for Bolognese pasta she had pulled up.
“I need to get back to work, to the real world. This has been great, and Jake really did save me, but I can tell my agency is getting frustrated. I can’t hold them off much longer; it’s been over a month now.
Honestly, I’m afraid they’ll forget me if I don’t start working again.
” She pauses. “I know I will disappoint Jake, but here’s my plan.
I want you to come live with me for a while.
That’s the only way Jake will let me go. ”
I gape at her. “Wow, I would love that.” I hesitate, unsure whether to finally ask the question that has been on my mind since day one. Taking a deep breath, I blurt out, “Can I ask you something?” I press my lips together.
“Sure.”
“Umm, why does Jake care so much?”
Vee grins. “We never told you. Jake is my cousin. Er, or his mom and my mom are cousins, so maybe that makes us second cousins. I’m not sure, but we’re family.
When we moved here four years ago, we stayed in Carol’s apartment for a while when they were in the Hamptons.
I’m not sure where Jake was—I think a safari or something.
My mom and his mom don’t really like each other, but you know, blood is thicker than water, so they let us stay here for almost three months.
My mom and Carol used to be like best friends.
After I sent my mom packing three years ago, Jake’s parents took me under their wing.
And clearly, Jake takes his big-brother role very seriously.
Sometimes a little too seriously for my liking. ”
Relief floods my chest. I’ve been—watching and waiting to pick up on any undercurrent of emotion or feelings.
My relief at Vee’s words makes me color.
Grinning like an idiot, I struggle to tamp down the happiness that threatens to split my face in two.
Why am I so happy to hear they are practically brother and sister?
I’m under no illusions that I have any hope with Jake.
We’re from two different worlds; the idea that the two of us could ever be together is completely preposterous.
A picture of a smiling Jake flashes through my mind, and I shake my head to clear it.
“So, what do you say? Want to move in with me?”
Chewing my bottom lip, I take stock of things in my head.
With five months left out of the six I allotted myself before facing my reality, it’s the perfect time to do something a bit more drastic, and Vee has dropped drastic into my lap.
Maybe I do have a guardian angel watching over me.
Wouldn’t that be nice? A warmth flows through my body.
Vee is observing me, and while I’m sure she can’t imagine what is running through my head, she knows enough about my parents and the world I come from to understand this is a big step.
My parents won’t approve of this, but I push that worry out of my mind and think, One step at a time.
If I truly do have a guardian angel, maybe they will drop some fairy dust or other magic to get my parents to agree to such a crazy plan.
Nodding affirmatively, I say confidently, “I would love that. What do we need to do to convince Jake?”
Veronica shrugs. “He really can’t stop me or us, right?”
I think he can stop me, but I shrug too, trying to look as self-assured as Vee does. “Where do you live?”
“In Chelsea.” Vee responds.
“Oh great, that’s closer to the bakery than the Upper East Side, so that will work. I’ll miss my walks through Central Park, but I’ll survive.”
We finish the Bolognese sauce and mix in the pasta and start eating our bowlfuls with the most delightful sprinkling of real parmesan cheese on top. Veronica can’t believe I’ve never had freshly shaved parmesan cheese before.
She explains in her most snobbish voice, “All the best Italian restaurants grate it fresh, right onto your plate.”
I smile. Sometimes I get tired of explaining I haven’t eaten in any restaurant, never mind an Italian restaurant that has staff standing at the ready to shave parmesan cheese on top of your pasta.
Vee nudges me. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s no big deal; just a little cheese.”
I shrug and reply nonchalantly, “I know.”
Vee laughs with her classic snorting sound. “Oh, dear Emma, your face shows every one of your emotions. Don’t try to mask that. It’s so refreshing. No guile, no deceit. I really am sorry.”
Before we are halfway through our bowls, Jake swings the door open and stops, inhaling deeply. “Is this Emilio’s?” he asks enthusiastically. “My God, it smells delicious. You know Italian is my favorite.”
I look at Vee; she planned this all along. All her Oh, let’s do something different, maybe Italian, was all a plot to get Jake in the best mood possible. Maybe she is a little worried that Jake can stop her.
Jake grabs a bowl and fills it overflowing, and Veronica shaves the cheese on the top with a flourish.
She gives me a wink and says brightly, “Guess what?”
Jake looks up with a mouthful of pasta and shakes his head, clearly indicating he has no idea, nor does he care too much.
“I’m going to move back to my place and finally get out of your hair, and Em is coming with me,” she says in a rush.
Jake sets his fork down with a grimace. He gives me a steely look, and I reflexively cast my eyes down at my bowl. He turns his gaze to Vee.
She meets his stare confidently, but her voice gives her away. It sounds strained and unsure. “I’ve thought about it a lot, Jake. I need to get back to work. I’m fine. I’ll just do the modeling and no partying. Em will be there and everything will . . .”
Jake shakes his head, cutting her off. “Vee, if it was just the modeling, that would be fine, but it’s not. You know you will have to go to the parties and then the after-parties. That is the problem.”
Veronica looks at me and quickly retorts, “How about if I promise that if I must go to some stupid party, I’ll take Em with me. She’ll watch out for me. And I promise I won’t drink—not a thing—or take anything else.”
Jake pushes the bowl away, clearly having lost his appetite. He narrows his eyes. “I don’t like it. You should try something else. Modeling holds too many temptations.”
Vee shrugs. “It’s what I know, and it’s what I’m good at. If I don’t have modeling, I don’t have anything.”
Jake walks over to her and wraps an arm around her shoulders, “Vee, you can do anything you set your mind to. You are more than your face. You know that.”
Vee lays her head down in her arms.
Jake looks resigned and sad. “You can do anything, but if you want to stay modeling, I can’t stop you. Anyway, my parents called last night. They’re coming back to the city next week, and it’s going to get crowded in here with all of us, so maybe it is the right time.”
With a shriek, Vee jumps up and gives Jake a quick hug. “Don’t you worry, everything will work out. Em and I will stick together.”
Jake whips his head around and gives me a hard look. “What about working at the bakery?”
I look up in surprise. “What about the bakery?”
Jake shakes his head. “You won’t be able to work in the bakery. Modeling jobs are at all different times of the day and night, and I can’t imagine you will do that and still get up at four in the morning to get to the bakery.”
I feel foolish; I clearly didn’t understand what I was agreeing to before I jumped in. What will my father do without me?
“I have to go to modeling jobs?” I ask timidly. “Can I even do that?”
“The deal is, Emma needs to be there with you for everything—or no deal,” Jake says to Vee.
Pacing around the small area, Vee finally looks worried too.
“I know!” she exclaims triumphantly. “Emma can be my new PA. Rachel was awful, so this will work out great. I’ll fire Rachel if she hasn’t left me already, and I’ll tell every-one Emma is my new PA.
The agency may have an issue, but I’ll tell them Emma is my cousin, and I’ll just demand it. What can they do?”
I hesitantly ask, “What is a PA?”
Jake smiles and looks more relaxed. “A personal assistant. Just someone who looks after Veronica and does whatever she needs you to do as long as it doesn’t involve parties, drinks, or drugs, right?” He looks Vee right in the eye.
Vee nods decisively—and the deal is done.
We’ve just finished cleaning up from turning the kitchen into Little Italy. I’m sitting quietly at the table nervously chewing my lip. Vee is scrolling through her phone, and Jake is engrossed in some papers.
Vee glances over at me, “Em, what is it? You’re back to looking scared. I told you; you will be a great PA.”
Shaking my head, I state, “I’m still nervous about that, but now I’m worried my parents won’t let me do it. They need me at the bakery and won’t understand any of this.”
Jake responds smoothly, “Emma, I’m sure your parents can replace you at the bakery. I’m sure you’re good, but no one is irreplaceable.”
“But that means they’ll have to pay someone, and family is, well, family. They trust me.”
Jake’s brow furrows in confusion, “But they have to pay you too.”
I shake my head. Jake is at a loss for words.