“The bet?”
“Look, I’m a formerly competitive person who lost her competitive edge over the years. I was perfectly contented in my life as it was, but that doesn’t mean that there weren’t things I wanted to be different. I was just paralyzed by inertia. So yes, the bet, the stupid bet, it got me off my ass, back into the world. Forced me to be open to meeting Shawn. And the bet would never have happened if she hadn’t said so. When we were in high school, if Lynne didn’t want us to do something, we didn’t do it. She could shut down an idea in a snap. So yes, I have to say, whatever else she is or isn’t, she could have said that the bet was just a dumb idea, Teresa and I wouldn’t have pushed back, and we all wouldn’t have agreed to do it—and look at how different and better my life is now!”
I didn’t even realize that I felt this way, but in my gut I know it’s true. We always went to the movies and concerts Lynne wanted to see, hit the parties she wanted to go to, and if either Teresa or I had an idea for something to do, if she thought it was stupid, we’d just let it go. I was always most comfortable with a guiding hand. I was a coach’s athlete: tell me what to do and when and how and I would do it, no pushback, no questions asked. I was a good kid at home: if Mom and Dad set a rule, I was pretty good about following it. My professors in culinary school loved me: I followed all their teachings to the letter, turned out the food they wanted just as they wanted; I was never the hotshot in the back of the room altering recipes or tweaking techniques.
“I’ll give her that, grudgingly. But I still think that she is sometimes awful to you, in ways that she doesn’t appear to be awful to Teresa, and there is nothing wrong with saying that whatever she was to you back in the day is not something she can or should be to you now.”
I didn’t have an argument for that.
I’m pulling the chickens out of the oven to rest when the full cadre of Farbers come flying into the house.
“HE DID IT!” Geneva screams in her epic voice. “Ian is going to be a huge star on TV!”
Ian looks at me with a sheepish grin on his face. “They want me,” he says, and then throws himself into my arms. I sweep him up into the air, heavy as he is.
“I’m so proud of you, bud, really, really proud. I knew you could do it.”
“He was a champ,” Brad says, beaming with pride. “You should have seen him, cool as a cucumber.”
“He did you really proud, El,” Shelby says, swatting at Robbie’s hand as he reaches to open the cookie jar.
“He did himself proud, I’m just the coach,” I say, so happy for him.
“Yeah, he was pretty good,” Robbie says.
“I was super impressed, and my friends are going to freak,” Darcy says. “We all got to give interviews and stuff, so we might be on TV too!”
“It was so cool,” Ian says. “First they did all these interviews with us and our families, and then we did a technical challenge and it was making pasta from scratch!”
“Right in your wheelhouse!” I say.
“You have to call Teresa and tell her—I did it all the way she taught me, and Roberto Fiorini told me it was just like his grandmother’s!” Roberto is one of the judges, a third-generation New York Italian chef, who is known for his gruff exterior and pulling no punches with the kids. So that is a huge compliment.
“That is amazing, Ian, really, he is a hard one to please!” I say.
“I know, right? And then they had us do a team prep challenge, and I got to work with Audrey and we killed it. Had to prep artichokes, supreme oranges, separate eggs, and fillet a fish! Beat the other teams by three whole minutes! Audrey has some serious skills, and she knew she could do the fish and oranges and I did the artichokes and eggs. She is so cool. And she made it through too! We said we have to go all the way to the finale together.”
I love how supportive he is of his new friend. “That would be amazing. I’m glad she made it through.”
“Yeah, it was really fun.”
“Okay, team, let’s get it together. Eloise made a great dinner for us and it’s getting cold.” Brad hustles the gaggle of kids to the front hall to get out of outerwear.
“Really, Eloise, thank you so much for all you did for him. You are a big part of why he made it.”
“It’s all his hard work. But I’m really pumped for him.” I turn on the steamer to get the asparagus done, then pull the potatoes out of the oven and start to transfer them to a serving platter.
“The show films in New York over the month of July. How would you feel about being his chaperone?”
My hand stops in midair. “What?”
“Well, you know that summer is all hands on deck around here . . . Robbie has sports camp and Darcy has School of Rock camp, and Geneva has day camp, but only half days. Ian needs an adult to be there with him for the duration, and frankly, I think Ian would be more comfortable with you, for quality time with his coach. If you can’t, or don’t want to, we get it and of course we will figure it out, but to be honest, after seeing how important it was for him to have you go with him to the audition instead of one of us? He would be relieved to have you there with him.”
“That is so sweet.” My head is reeling. New York for a month? On the one hand, what a wonderful opportunity, so many things to do and see and places that have been on my list to eat at for years that I’ve never gotten to. On the other hand, a month is a long time to be gone. What would Shawn say? What about Simca? What about Lawrence?
Shelby seems to read my mind. “Talk to Shawn. We would be delighted to fly him out to be with you for the weekends. We’ve got plenty of time, just think about it.”
“Will do.”
“And, Eloise? If you think it would be too much of a hardship to be gone, we get it, there are backup plans we can pursue. Truly, don’t think you can’t say no.”
And while six months ago I would never have considered putting myself or my life or my needs first, today I know that if no is the best answer, then that is the answer I will give. “Don’t worry. If it isn’t doable for me, then I will be honest about that.”
“Great. Now get out of here. I know you have evening plans that are much more interesting. We’ll clean up.”
I almost say no, but then stop myself. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Apparently this old dog is learning new tricks all the time.
? ? ?
Despite the spring chill in the air, I decide to walk over to my mom’s house for dinner. Shawn is meeting me there later. He has a late surgery, but says he isn’t going to miss an opportunity to get good mom and aunt gold-star points, so I figured no need for us to have two cars there. By the time I let myself in, my face is frozen and my ears are tingling. March in Chicago is always deceptive; after the below-zero days of winter, it gets up into the forties and we all lose our minds and start to think it isn’t really cold anymore.
“Goodness!” my mom says, kissing my icy cheek. “Did you walk over?”