by Nina Bocci
It was genius. Simple and short videos that gave you a smidge of background information on the granny, as well as the region she was from, and it all went along with a delectable pasta recipe.
Looking down at the stack of recipes, I realized that was it. The ladies and their recipes were the best part of this entire venture. Clara was right—maybe they could be on YouTube, much like Pasta Grannies. It was clearly a popular channel. Could we make something old new again?
I shook my head out of my daydreams. Before I put the cart before the horse, I needed to perfect their recipes first.
One of Mancini’s recipes for traditional Italian cookies that were almost like mini fruitcakes was proving to be the most difficult to figure out. They featured honey, chocolate, actual shortening—which I hadn’t used in ages—and an obscene amount of candied fruit.
I was sure I had the measurements right, but they were still coming out too dry. The cookies were loaded with flavor, but they were also brittle. Taking a sampling of the last batch that came out decent, I decided that a change of venue was in order and summoned an Uber. I needed a friend to kvetch with, so I was off to Late Bloomers. Charlotte would understand my excitement and either encourage me to run with it or calm me down and get me to refocus my energy.
I was secretly hoping for the encouragement.
“You need to answer three questions for me,” I said to Charlotte the moment I stepped into her floral shop. “Wait, no, I take that back. Four questions.”
“Hello, Charlotte! You’re looking smashing today. Love the color of the shirt. Are those new jeans you’re wearing? Your ass looks great in them, order two pairs,” Charlotte said, mocking my lack of conversational skills. She continued when I didn’t offer any clapbacks. “Thanks, Parker! You’re looking marvelous yourself. How’s the baking?”
“Okay, okay, I get it. I’m terrible at idle conversation lately, but I have something to discuss,” I explained, taking a seat on the metal stool at her counter. The top of her workstation was about as messy as my island. Whereas mine was splattered with flour, hers was decorated haphazardly with flower stems and petals from whatever centerpiece she was creating. It was full of vivid pink and purple flowers and the simplest green vines that billowed over the planter she was shoving them into.
“I’m very busy. And stressed,” she said, looking tired.
“Why don’t you take a couple days and go to my apartment in the city? You need a break, girl,” I said, pulling her nicked fingers away from the floral foam she was pulling apart. “Hit the old haunts, enjoy a day or three at a spa. My treat. Just do something to relax.”
She sighed. “Oh, wouldn’t that be amazing. I’d love to, but I really want to be able to go with Henry. Maybe we can sneak away during a weekend after I’m mostly caught up on orders and work. Even an overnight trip would make a difference.”
I winked at her. “Is Nellie still out of commission with the finger injury?” I asked, not seeing her college assistant around anywhere.
Charlotte shook her head. “Her finger is better, but now she’s got the flu. Just when I think she’s going to come back, something knocks her on her ass again and we have to postpone orders.”
“Can I help?” I offered, though after eyeing what she was doing, I didn’t think I’d be capable.
“I wish, but it sounds like you’ve got your hands full with the ladies.” She laughed when I nodded aggressively.
“It’s been a challenging but fun experience. This is about the most math I’ve done since college, and it’s taxing my brain. But I’m making progress! Out of the original twelve recipes I took the other day, I’ve managed to figure out ten of them.”
“That’s amazing! Henry said you dropped off some treats at the school. That was really kind. I know the teachers appreciated the goodies. They also thought your note was hilarious.”
I laughed, remembering what the note to the high school teachers said:
These won’t land you in detention…
“Speaking of goodies, put this in your mouth,” I said, handing her a cookie from the tin I had brought with me. It looked perfect, but I knew it would be slightly dry.
“Seriously? ‘Put this in your mouth’? How about some wine? Cheese? Dinner first?”
I guffawed. “You’re hanging out with Mancini too much. All of you are taking the piglet route lately. Nothing is safe!”
“Parker, think about what you just said.”
“Okay, okay, I guess we’re all hanging out with Mancini too much.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. She adds color to the dreary winter. All of them do. I can’t help but crack up when they’re around.”
“I know what you mean. They’ve been a huge help with giving me something to focus on while I’m here. Case in point,” I said, pushing the cookie toward her again.
“This is so pretty, I don’t want to eat it,” she said, still proceeding to take a giant bite. She chewed slowly, her eyes closing as she swallowed.
The anticipation was killing me. “Well?”
“It’s really good! I’m not usually a fan of the fruit-filled-cookie thing, but this is delish. What is it?”
I blew out a sigh of relief. “It was one of Mancini’s recipes. Something her grandmother made in the old country. I don’t remember the name, but it’s basically a fruit cake cookie and it was a pain in the ass to figure out.”
She gave me a high five. “Well, I say you succeeded.”
“Not too dry?”
She took another bite, again chewing slowly to savor it. When she shook her head, I felt some of the tension leave me.
“Not at all. Why? Do you think it is?”
I shrugged. “A little, I guess. I just want these to be perfect for them.”
“I love that you’re doing this. They’re so excited. They’ll tell anyone who will listen that a famous baker is in town and helping them re-create their old recipes. People have even requested some lessons from you after trying some of the treats that you’ve been sending around town.”
“Really?” That was interesting. I puffed out my chest a bit at the praise. “That could be fun. I don’t have space in the house, and Airbnb has stipulations about using the rentals for anything commercial. But I would certainly consider baking at Mancini’s or somewhere close by.”
“That would be awesome. Don’t worry, I won’t sign up if you start lessons or classes.”
“Even though you should.”
“Ass.”
I pretended to wipe my brow. “We’d have to have Hope Lake Fire Department on standby.”
She flipped me off and popped the rest of the cookie into her mouth. “There’s a bunch of places where you could host classes. Is that really something you might be interested in?”
Was it? Didn’t I have enough going on without teaching too? “Maybe?”
“Henry could come, and Cooper. Although they’re already good cooks. Nick should sign up. He’s a hot mess like I am,” she said, rooting in the container for another cookie.
I laughed.
“What?” she said around a mouthful. “They’re good, and I haven’t eaten breakfast or lunch. Anyway, what’s next? You figure out these recipes and then what?”
There again was the million-dollar question. “Well, I dusted off the old YouTube channel. Changed the name, updated my contact information, and got rid of the D and V connection. I haven’t posted anything new lately, but I have some ideas.”
“Wow, really? Parker, that’s amazing. You loved doing the weekly videos you used to do before you got too busy. Bringing that back is a great idea. When do you think you’ll start?”
“Whoa, hang on. I haven’t decided one hundred percent that I’m doing it yet. It’s just nice to have it there just in case, you know?”
“Good point. Well, when you’re ready, you know I’ll hold the camera. Even if I do a shitty job, you can count on me!” she said.
“I’m really glad I came to Hope Lake, Charlot
te. This place has been good for the mojo. I can’t explain why, but maybe this place is magic like Emma insists.”
“It’s the pace, I think,” said Charlotte. “It’s slower than we’re used to in New York and, at least for me, that’s energizing. I feel calmer, even though I’m swamped. It doesn’t feel as frenetic as it did in the city.”
I thought about it. Maybe that was it. “Perhaps. I’m sleeping better. Or, I should say, actually sleeping. While there are a ton of distractions, none are stressful. I guess it’s the perfect storm.”
“Soak it up while you can. It’ll only help for when you eventually head back.”
“Eventually. For now, maybe I’ll look into teaching some baking lessons.”
She clapped. “Look at you, professor! Cooking classes, dusting off the old YouTube channel. The new Parker Phase Two is just what you needed.”
I smiled. “Mancini and Gigi and I were talking about it briefly. I’m guessing Gigi told you about the idea?” I smiled when she nodded.
“I thought about doing their recipes on-camera, but then I thought that maybe I should use these guys as part of my channel. I have to chat with them about it.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “You thought about highlighting them!”
I laughed. We might not have lived together anymore, but we still were able to finish each other’s sentences every now and then. It was comforting that we still had that.
“I did,” I said. I proceeded to explain how I’d found Pasta Grannies, and how that had sparked my idea to use the Golden Girls’ recipes for a series.
She came around the workstation, waving some sort of purple flower in her hand. “The Golden Girls would kill it online. I mean, obviously you can’t call them that, but what if they’re on the show… or they are the show on your channel? Then to bulk it up, you can feature videos of just you baking, if that’s the direction you want to go in. Parker and the ladies. You’re the face that people recognize. But because everyone already knows you and your skills…” She paused when I tipped my head. “It makes sense why the ladies and their recipes would be the focus. I don’t think anything like them exists on the Internet.”
“You’re scary sometimes, you know that? I rolled in here with a wink and a prayer that I might be onto something and here you are figuring it all out yourself!” I said, the wheels now turning on how I could make this work.
“Give it a shot. You seemed excited about the prospect of doing videos again.” Charlotte tucked the stem of the flower behind my ear and grinned. “I think you have your answer about how to get your mojo back. Use the process of trying to redo the Golden Girls’ recipes as a way to relaunch your own platform. You can finally tell your fans that you sold D and V and that you aren’t affiliated with them anymore, but that you also have a new project now. I think you’ll be surprised. People will be supportive. Anyway, now that we’ve sorted out your life, why did you come in? Or was this amazing idea the whole reason?”
I laughed. “You think I remember now? I’m having a senior moment. Blame it on all the seniors that I’m BFFs with.”
She gave me a look.
“I’m kidding, but they are rubbing off on me—in the very best way.”
She walked back around to her workstation and began snipping stems and fitting them delicately into the foam. “Can I guess?” she asked knowingly.
“I’m guessing that by you offering to guess, you know what I was going to ask in the first place,” I said, and while it made sense in my head, hearing it out loud was confusing.
“What? Never mind. I think you came in to gossip about Nick and Jillian.”
I was as transparent as Saran Wrap. “Wow, you’re blunt,” I said, shocked that she figured it out. “I ran into them at the store. It was an unexpected experience, to say the least.”
“I heard. Nick called me on his way home after driving her back to Barreton. Which is a ridiculously selfless thing to do, by the way, and—”
“He does it because he’s genuine,” I finished. “And she’s…” I paused, looking for the right word. “Something.”
“She is. She does dote on him, which is what Emma says he needs. It’s a little much in my opinion, but I’ll admit that only to you.”
“You mean the ‘Nicky’ whining? Or maybe the constant kisses on the cheek like he’s a Labrador instead of a man?”
“That’s very specific, but yes. I mean, if he likes it? He’s had short relationships, but nothing has been serious like Jillian.”
I did everything I could to keep my face unaffected by what she was saying.
“It doesn’t matter what I think. If Nick is happy, great. She seems to genuinely like him and vice versa.”
“That’s just it, though. I don’t know if he is happy.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Maybe it’s in my head, but he’s been different since he’s been with her. Distant and passing on things that he normally wouldn’t, like dinners or nights out with the guys. We used to see him all the time but since Jillian, he begs off by saying he’s busy.”
I nodded. “I get it. Maybe he’s just trying to make it work, and spending all his time with her is how he thinks he wants to do it. She mentioned something at the store about not wanting him to go to guys’ night. He agreed not to.”
“Yeah. Cooper and Henry were disappointed. He hasn’t been hanging out with them lately. I know he felt left out after we all coupled off, but—”
“Left out? Of what? You guys are always all together. You’re like the real-life equivalent of Friends.”
Charlotte stood, walking over to the front windows of her shop. She stared out at the bookstore directly across from her place, where Henry worked part-time.
“I mean,” she said slowly, “we were always together, but I think that was the problem. He was the fifth wheel for months. I figured he wanted someone to spend time with, so he wasn’t always the odd man out.”
I frowned. “That would make sense, I guess. Seeing you guys all happy and moving forward maybe made him feel left behind.”
The more I learned about Nick and Jillian, the more I realized what we’d been missing. We never hung out with his friends, because we were a secret. But then again, he never did give us a chance, did he?
“Well, you certainly don’t have to spend time with her if you don’t want to,” said Charlotte, breaking me out of my thoughts. “We just do so we all get along.”
“You’re right. If you guys think she’s okay-ish and Nick is happy, go nuts. I was clear to Nick that she and I wouldn’t be friends, though.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “She’s just not my cup of tea. Nick and I—” I stopped myself, almost admitting to her what I had said to him.
“Nick and you, what?” Charlotte asked, and I could practically see the wheels turning in her head, trying to figure out what I stopped myself from saying.
We don’t lie to each other. But that wouldn’t have made sense to Charlotte. To the best of her knowledge, Nick and I had only met once before I got to town.
“Truth is, I think deep down Nick is probably a good guy. We’re very similar, which usually leads to havoc.” Or passion. “You saw us at the Fourth of July shindig.”
She nodded. “You guys were combustible. Emma and I had bets on whether you hooked up.”
“Say what now?”
“Cooper and Henry were adamantly opposed, saying there was no way you would have fallen for Nick’s flirting, but Emma was convinced that you guys wandered off to the woods to bone.”
“Are you twelve?”
“Why? Because I said ‘bone’? Are you blushing? Oh, my hell, did you bone?”
I scoffed. “Bone. I can’t believe you just said that,” I mumbled, shaking my head and trying to keep my voice even. It would have been the perfect time to just come out and say Yes, we did hook up, but then it would have led to more questions when it didn’t even matter. No, thanks.
“
Huh, interesting,” she said, eyeing me skeptically. Crap, she was fishing, and I was being too honest. I just had to keep everything vanilla and even tempered or she’d smell blood and pounce. “Anyway, you guys were like oil and water, but it was fun to watch you bicker. Jillian’s just… I don’t know, there. I mean, I’m glad she’s all about Nick, but there’s zero spark between them. You two, on the other hand, could have set the park on fire.”
“You’re exaggerating, Charlotte.”
“Am not. You didn’t see what we saw,” she said, and again I was reminded of why I didn’t tell her we were together. In Charlotte’s, and likely Emma’s, eyes, Nick and I would have been perfect for each other, and they would have put pressure on us. Instead of a relationship of two, it would’ve been one of four. And that wasn’t something we wanted, especially in the early stages.
“You really think she’s good for him?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Last fall, after Henry and I got together, Nick was… happy. We knew something was up with him, but he didn’t say anything and didn’t seem to be dating anyone. And then as the holidays approached, he became moodier. Actually, he was not that fun to be around. Then right after Thanksgiving, Jillian appeared.” She shrugged.
“What did you ask? If he’s happy? I guess? I mean, she’s nice all the time, so I can’t imagine them having problems.” She picked up a pair of shears and I wondered if she realized she was holding them like a character in a Stephen King novel: aggressively.
“Oh, one of the witnesses who saw you talking to them told me Jillian was talking about you all the way around the store after you left. She couldn’t believe she met you. Nick, of course, left all of that out of our conversation.”
“What, is there some sort of sophisticated spy network around town that reports through a switchboard? My God, you guys are quick on the gossip,” I said, standing up and taking a turn around the shop. “I can’t imagine why she’d say anything about me.”
