Author: Sandra Lee
Category: Cook books
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/sandra-lee/page,12,434257-the_recipe_box.html
“We’ll just have to see how it goes… I wish—”
“Yeah. I get it.” Mike cut her off. Then he sighed and kissed her forehead. “I’ll drive you and Emma to the airport.”
Something precious was at stake here, Grace knew. She struggled to open up to Mike. What did she have to lose?
Only Emma. Thinking back all those years ago to that day in her mother’s kitchen, Grace knew she couldn’t tell Mike her secret without first telling Emma, or Emma would never forgive her. That much she didn’t need to wonder about; she knew it firsthand. Which would mean settling the question that had unsettled her life for fifteen years:
Who was Emma’s father?
Which meant telling Brian. And Von. And risking losing Emma just when they were getting along again.
Other than checking to see if they’d gotten home safely, Mike hadn’t called since they were back in LA. Grace was sure that she’d crushed him and she felt terrible.
“Coming through! Heads up!”
Two union guys wheeled a huge wind machine past Grace on a cart, snapping her attention back to the set.
“Emma’s here,” Ken announced.
“This is so great,” Emma said. “Halo is going to be a star. First, the book, now the TV show.” Passing her finals with good grades had given Emma a new confidence, and her children’s book idea had given her her first real goal, something to work for and dream about.
“I wouldn’t tell him to give up his day job yet, sweetie,” said Ken, unzipping the carrier. “This is just a guest appearance. He’s only in one scene. He could end up a beak on the cutting room floor.”
“What does he have to do?”
Ken showed Emma and Grace the new script pages. “He’s basically playing himself. He rides around on the Queen’s shoulder. Here she comes now for the run-through.”
Carrie Flannery glided across the room. In her black Prada pantsuit, with flared legs and nipped-in waist, she was a fashion icon’s take on a vampire. Veteran of dozens of Shakespeare productions and star of movies and the fashion pages, she’d seen it all. She was one of those actresses who appeared larger than life on any screen, but was in person surprisingly small, with a tiny frame and delicate bone structure. Her mouth was meticulously painted a dark blue-red, her eyebrows bleached, and she was wearing a platinum-blonde wig with a wide black streak. You could tell this woman was a star, Grace thought, and had been a star for a long time.
“W. C. Fields said never work with children or animals, and here I am doing both,” Carrie said with an acid twist. “Where is this winged creature?”
“We padded Carrie’s shoulder in case it has sharp claws,” informed the wardrobe assistant.
“This is Emma, my daughter,” Grace said.
“How perfectly charming. How do you do?” Like many successful performers and politicians, Carrie had honed the skill of looking intently at whoever she was speaking to and making them feel like that person was the only person in the room worth talking to. She turned her laser focus on Emma, only for a minute, but that was enough.
“Hello,” said Emma, thrilled. “The show is so great.”
“My dear, you have gorgeous eyes. You should always play them up.”
Grace could see that Carrie had gained a fan for life.
“Well, where is my godbird?” Ken asked impatiently. “A bit camera shy, it seems.”
Emma reached into the carrier and carefully lifted Halo out, cupping him to her chest and stroking his white feather crest.
“OK, let’s try it,” Ken said.
Emma placed the bird gently on Carrie’s shoulder, while Grace held her breath.
“Gimme a break!” the bird suddenly squawked.
Carrie gasped and winced away from Halo. “My eardrum! Did that bird just say, ‘Give me a drink?’ ”
“Break. It’s break. He needs elocution training. Now let’s go see Arnie.”
Emma took out her phone and videoed Halo as he took his place under the lights. “For his blog. I’m starting it tonight: Halo in Hollywood.”
“Genius,” Ken proclaimed.
Grace marveled as she watched Emma bustling around the edges of the set, taking pictures and making notes, yet under the radar. She was a natural. Lorraine had been right, it seemed. The answer had been under Grace’s nose all along. When given something meaningful to do, Emma had risen to every occasion. Grace had gauged it completely wrong, she realized. Emma didn’t need sunshine, the beach, and surfing to succeed. She needed structure. Wait till Mike hears about this, Grace thought, and then—Wait, Mike’s not here. Bringing Emma back had been a team effort, but a key member of Team Emma was missing.
“Tim is going to hate this,” Ken said from across the set into Grace’s earpiece. “He thinks he discovered Halo.”
Grace motioned Emma over to check the monitor with her. There on screen sat Halo, preening on Carrie’s shoulder. Grace could see that Carrie wasn’t entirely at ease, padded shoulder or not. She walked cautiously, her eyes darting nervously to the side, monitoring the bird as if she feared he might mistake her earring for a piece of fruit and grab for it at any minute. But the minute Artie said “Action!” her posture changed, her back arched, the distinctive gliding gait returned, and Carrie became the vampire Queen. It was magic. And Halo was her consort. He looked positively regal, with his snowy white feathers arching distinctively over his forehead.
Please God, don’t let that bird swear on camera, Grace prayed.
But it was a perfect take, and a star was born. Emma was swept off the set by her new friends in a rush of giggles and congratulations.
They were wrapping for the day when Grace looked over and saw a young woman in a flowy chiffon dress, sandals, and sleeked-back hair opening Halo’s cage. Her first thought was, “Oh no, now we’ll need bodyguards for Halo!”
“Excuse me!” she called out. “Please don’t touch—”
The young woman turned around. At first, what Grace saw just didn’t compute. Who was this stranger in the pretty long skirt, chic wide belt, and tank top who seemed to be so interested in birds? Maybe one of the new summer interns whom she hadn’t met? Wait…
Oh, my, God. It’s Emma. Emma!!
Emma looked like a completely different person. She had always been beautiful, but now her spiky hair, still dyed black, had been tamed, flat-ironed to a satin gleam, her eyes flickering with new prominence under short bangs cut straight across her forehead. A faint flush crossed her cheeks on a face that needed no makeup whatsoever to be fresh-faced but distinctive, a girl entering young womanhood. Her Emma.
“Hey. They gave me a new look. What do you think?”
Ken emerged, followed by the show’s stylist interns. “Sophie and Randy couldn’t resist,” Ken said. “Sophie’s hair and makeup, Randy’s wardrobe.” He nodded to each of them in turn. “They work with our teens on the show. Will you look at our girl now?”
Emma lifted the back of her tank top to reveal a huge sunburst tattoo. Grace almost fainted. “No problem, Mom. It washes off. They have a whole library of temporaries here. They’re like really nice decals. It’s so cool.” She, Sophie, and Randy all burst into laughter.
“Meet the NBFs,” Ken said to Grace.
“What?”
“New Best Friends. Sophie is actually quite an artist. She’s a sophomore studying fine art at Carnegie Mellon—and she loves animals. She and Emma hit it off right away. I think I see a collaborator in her future.”
“You are incorrigible.” Grace shook her head. She wrapped her arms around her daughter. “You are so gorgeous. You always were, but now you’re a star.”
“Halo’s the star. I’m going to be his manager. I needed a new look for that.”
“It was a ‘must intervene’ situation,” laughed Sophie. “Sorry, Em. But if you’re gonna manage Halo, you’ve gotta man up.”
“Thanks, you guys.” Emma smiled shyly. Grace saw now that her bravado and edge had been driven by a yearning to fit in, to be ac
cepted. Being different meant, she knew from experience, that if they aren’t going to accept you, you can always reject them first. Emma had found her groove; she was still different, but now she was doing it her way, not following a crowd. Going into high school, she had it all over what her mother had at the same age, Grace thought. Grace had had the Three Musketeers. But Emma had something much more important, something that would carry her for the rest of her life. She had herself. Not based on a boy, not based on a friend, or a group, but on her own talents, looks, and future. “This girl will own the future,” thought Grace. This was just the very beginning, but with so much going for her, how could it be otherwise?
“You go, girl,” said Ken, giving a fist-pump. It was amazing, Grace thought, how wonderful Ken was with young people. He always seemed to relate to them, at any age, and now that Emma was growing up, he was growing right along with her.
As if reading her mind, Ken looked at Grace. “If anybody knows that a kid needs confidence going into high school, it’s me. And you were there.” Grace knew that he’d wanted to give that gift to his goddaughter and he’d come through for her. Grace herself had been unable to even get Emma to run a comb through her hair, she thought wryly, so this was all the more amazing.
“Wait, there’s more,” Ken said excitedly. “You know Jaxon Kerrig, the kid who plays the vampire son? Idol of millions of teen girls? Emma introduced him to Halo, and now he thinks Emma is great, and as a little surprise, he is going to give her a ride to school the first day of high school.”
“You have got to be kidding.”
“Shh—it’s a surprise.”
Grace grabbed Ken’s arm and squeezed it. “I can’t believe all you’ve done for her. Thank you.”
“Look at this gorgeous little thing. You did it, Grace. She’s your daughter. The potential was always inside her; we just helped let it out. Anyhow, it’s the least I could do after letting my goddaughter slip out of my clutches and skip school. I seriously thought I would have a stroke that day.”
“Seriously!” squawked Halo.
“Speak when you’re spoken to, bird. You’re talent now. Actually, it was this, or hardwire a GPS system to her. The makeover was actually easier.” He sighed and looked across the set to where Artie was waving his arms and chewing out the location scout. “Here we go again. Life as a punching bag. God, don’t you just miss New London?”
“No, not really.”
Ken leveled a look at her. “Maybe not everyone in New London. How about certain people in New London?”
Mike. She was still trying to convince herself that she didn’t miss him. Grace knew that she wasn’t the only person who had left a bit of their heart in New London. Ken was thinking about Tim. She couldn’t remember another time in their lives that Ken had let his guard down and really thrown himself into a relationship. When he was around Tim, Ken was almost as different a person as Emma had become. It was as if the Book Nook was some magical gateway that had opened things up for all of them to take that next step in their lives, the one they’d been waiting for, but hadn’t known it. The question was—would any of it last, for any of them?
Of course, Leeza had been right, as usual. It was more than a little aggravating that she could be right even when she was dead. But that was the thing about Leez. While everyone else on the planet always seemed to be endlessly competing for something, jostling for space and attention, she’d never been in that game. Grace had always wished she could be more like that, and maybe, if things had been different, she might have absorbed more of her best friend’s selflessness. But when a woman hit her thirties, Grace thought, she’d better have a pretty good idea of what she wanted to be when she grew up. A mother, that much had been clear from the beginning. A wife? She’d thought so, but marriage had been more Atlantic City than honeymoon city. A stylist? More like a survivalist. Now, looking at her beautiful Emma, just coming into her own and, after some typical teen missteps, suddenly gaining ground on a firm idea of who she wanted to be in life, Grace had to admit that she was defining herself more by what she wasn’t than what she was—or could be. She needed to focus on the positive. One day, before she knew it, she was going to wake up, and Emma would be off on her own, out of high school, and Grace was going to be alone.
At least the job was going well, so, yes, Grace could say she had succeeded in her career. She’d been worried that her absence from Hollywood would kill her career; instead, she’d found a new way to work. After a few false starts, she’d designed a computer program that allowed all the production resources on a given job to document their workflow on one master file. It had been a system born of necessity, because she’d been managing her job remotely, from Wisconsin, but it significantly streamlined the process. Grace’s system was working so well, the production company had asked if she could adapt it for other jobs, and she found herself in demand in cyberspace as well as on the set. She was earning a decent living. That was a huge step. Now that her living was sorted out, it was time to sort out her life.
That night, as she turned off her bedside light, Grace flopped onto her pillows and closed her eyes, and Leeza was there. They were sitting on Ken’s thirty-foot vintage powerboat in Marina del Rey. It was sunset, and the Unbiased Panel of Judges had convened in special session.
In high school, the Three Musketeers had created the U.P.J. to deal with the many real and imagined injustices and decisions they encountered. The panel had consisted of Grace, Ken, and Leeza sitting in judgment on any person, place, or thing. Whatever was in question or open for discussion, the Unbiased Panel of Judges would be role-called to vote.
Should Leeza go out with the basketball team captain, even though he had the IQ of a gnat? The Unbiased Panel of Judges would vote. The answer to that was consistently no.
Should Grace get a perm? The Unbiased Panel of Judges voted NO.
Should Claire’s sweater be made to “disappear”? YES!
Should Jonathan attend law school? This was mixed. The time and expense were discussed, but YES won out. No decision was too large or small for U.P.J. scrutiny.
In the dream, the three of them were drinking a bottle of wine and watching an orange ball of sun sink below the horizon. Leeza looked perfectly healthy, with all of her beautiful dark hair. It was so real, Grace could hear the soft clinking of the boat fittings as it rocked gently in its slip.
“The U.P.J. is now convened,” Ken intoned, raising a glass.
“Here, here,” squawked Halo, suddenly appearing. He didn’t belong in the dream, but whatever. It was a dream.
“The issue before us,” announced Ken, who was serving as arbiter, “is Emma. Should Grace tell Emma that Brian may not be her father?”
“Should she tell Brian?” Leeza asked. “Or Von?”
“I’ll take the pros,” Ken said, reaching into his pocket and unfurling a Post-it with some notes. “Pro: This uncertainty does indeed exist.”
“Con,” said Leeza. “Nothing is certain at this point. Why upset Emma without all the facts?”
“Pro,” Ken retorted. “Keeping secrets like this has not had a good track record with Grace.”
“Pro!” Leeza jumped up. “Emma deserves to know the truth.”
“Ooh, let’s rock the boat,” Ken jibed.
“Con,” interjected Grace. “She might hate her mother forever after.”
“Hmm,” muttered Ken. “Sounds familiar. Pro: It is better to be in control of the situation than to just let it happen.”
“Pro,” Grace interjected. “I always want to be honest with my daughter. Con: Brian would never get over it. Or forgive me.”
“Yes, he would,” said Leeza. “You can’t vote both sides of the issue. But I will say that Brian is a very big Pro here. He knows what it’s like to live with the consequences of a mistake, after all.”
Grace started to cry. She told herself to stop it, it was only a dream, but it all seemed so real, especially Leeza. “All I wanted was to have a family and to do my best
for my little girl. She’s been so confused since we left Chicago, and now that she’s started to come into her own, I’m going to pull the rug out from under her. She’ll hate me. She’ll think I lied to her, her whole life.” Grace’s eyes were streaming.
“Didn’t you get my note?” Leeza asked. “Emma is not you, Gracie. Hasn’t she been telling us that in every way possible? Think about it—she’s showing us that she’s her own person. And when we let that happen, wonderful things go along with it. Just because you feel one way doesn’t mean Emma will feel the same way. Look what happened when you brought her into your life a little bit more, at work. She just wants to be included. Not telling her is excluding her from your life. Maybe she should be part of the decision of whether or not to tell Brian and Von. Maybe you can decide together.”
Ken clapped his hands. “I call for a vote. All in favor of Grace telling Emma the truth?”
Leeza raised her hand. Ken raised his own hand, too.
“Well, that’s a majority,” he announced.
The sun was setting. “It’s getting late. I think I have to go now,” said Leeza.
“The Unbiased Panel has spoken,” intoned Ken.
Grace started awake. It was pitch dark outside, and the bedside clock said 3:15 a.m. Her pillow was soggy with tears, so she tossed it over the side of the bed. The dream had felt so real. Yes, the Unbiased Panel had spoken, and, Grace realized, she had written the script herself. The dream was only an expression of something she herself already knew, how she really felt deep inside. She would tell Emma. She would take her to their favorite sushi place for dinner tonight, the one close to the beach, and afterward they would walk on the sand, and she would tell her. She would tell her about the love she’d felt for Brian, the passion she’d had for Von, and Emma would learn that her mother had been a teenager herself, with the same kinds of dreams and impulsiveness that Emma had herself. She would hold back nothing. She would give Emma the choice to be tested, or not. That had been Leeza’s point, she now realized. That it was Emma’s right, Emma’s choice. She was crossing that blurry border, from little girl to the entrance of young womanhood, coming to a place where she was better able to handle what life would throw at her. Yes, I’ll tell her. They would hold each other, and they would be closer than ever.