Before Jenna could reply, Annette jumped in with her slight Southern drawl. “Honey, I wouldn’t go in the Jacuzzi alone.”
“I would.” Jenna offered her brilliant grin. “Sail around the world, I mean.”
“So would I,” Becca agreed.
“There’s adventurous, and then there’s stupid.” Tess looked at our two wild-and-crazy daredevils over her glasses with a smile.
Becca lifted her chin. “I don’t think it’s stupid to do something where it’s just you against the elements, with no one else telling you what to do, having to live by your own wits and strength.”
“Isn’t that what Captain Ahab did?” I asked. “We all know how that ended up.”
“I can tell someone never finished Moby Dick,” Tess said. “Captain Ahab wasn’t alone. He was the captain of the ship, and in his obsession to get Moby Dick, he not only killed himself but his entire crew too — all except for Ishmael.”
“Glad no one here has that kind of obsession.”
“My only obsession at this moment is food,” Annette said. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m starved.”
Part 7
17
A book is so soon made, costs so little, and can go so far!
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
As I sprawled on the couch reading Marjorie Morningstar, Tess’s favorite coming-of-age tale, on a sunny September afternoon after a grueling week at work, I tried to read it through my aunt’s eyes, to see if that would make it more relatable.
Marjorie Morgenstern dreams of becoming an actress, much to the dismay of her conventional Jewish parents, who would rather see her settle down with a nice Jewish boy, raise kids, and never work outside the home. Yet time and time again Marjorie steps outside of the family conventions.
No wonder Tess loved it.
After she’d graduated from high school, she spent the summer backpacking around Europe — over her family’s objections. And unlike my mother, who’d married shortly after her eighteenth birthday and happily settled into her home-and-hearth calling, Tess traveled and established herself in her career before meeting Uncle Ted and marrying him at the age of thirty.
They didn’t have kids right away because they wanted to enjoy time alone together first — just the two of them. After three years of marriage, Tommy and Timmy were born.
Seven years later, Uncle Ted was gone.
My phone rang, Tommy’s cell number flashing on the display. I snapped it open. “Hey, Tommy.”
“Hey cuz, wanna come over and play Scene It tonight?”
“Guys against girls again?”
“What else?” Timmy said through his brother’s speakerphone.
“I see. You want to get skunked again.” The last time Tess and I had played with her sons, we’d beaten them mercilessly.
“Yeah, well we’ll see who’s wearing a white stripe down their back when the night’s over,” Tommy — or was it Timmy? — said.
“That’s right,” his twin agreed, “so be sure and wear a black shirt, cuz.” They sniggered and hung up, neglecting to mention their secret weapon.
Ryan.
I was surprised to see him when I arrived at Tess’s that night, but he was the one who got the boys their summer job, after all. He and my cousins had worked together all summer long at various construction sites, so I guess when I thought about it, it wasn’t that much of a surprise.
Tess had a surprise in store for her sons, however: her own secret weapon.
Paige.
And we weren’t the ones wearing the white stripe down our backs that night.
“Women rule!” I shouted after we won our second game in a row.
“Nice ringer Tess brought in,” Ryan said as I walked him to his car at the end of the evening.
“Hey, all’s fair in love and war.”
“War’s over. Remember?” He threw me a teasing smile. “We called a truce.”
“Not when it comes to games. Have you forgotten my competitive streak?”
“I haven’t forgotten anything.”
“Hey, y’all, check it out.” Annette brandished her copy of French Women Don’t Get Fat as she strode into Paige’s living room the following week. “French women don’t go to the gym! They just walk. Everywhere.”
“That’s because if you drive in Paris, you take your life in your hands,” Tess said dryly. “Especially around the Arc de Triomphe on the Champs-Elysées.”
“Ooh, the Champs-Elysées.” Paige released a rapturous sigh. “Don’t you just love the sound of that? So musical.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet it’s really musical with all those cars honking at you.” Jenna slid over to make room for Annette on the sofa.
“Works for me.” Annette patted her voluptuous hips as she squeezed in between Jenna and Tess. “I’ll take cars honkin’ at me any day rather than go to the gym. No offense, trainer girl.”
“None taken.”
“I’m with you, Annette. I’d rather walk around a gorgeous city than on a treadmill any day,” I said. “Have you gotten to the part yet where she says we should never eat standing up or on the go?”
“Hey! No fair talking about the book this early. We’re not discussing it until January, remember?” Kailyn said.
“What I want to know is how do French women get anything done?” Becca asked from her cross-legged position on the floor. “I’m always eating on the run. Who’s got time to sit down to a meal?”
“The French make the time because food is a way of life to them,” Tess said. “It is life. Eating isn’t just fuel to them. Dining is a ritual — an event unto itself. A pleasure to be savored.”
“I’d like to know how they can eat all that fattening French food and sauces and still stay so slim.” Kailyn crossed her capri-clad legs.
“Well, if you open the book, it will tell you. That’s what we do in our book club. We read.” Becca spelled it out slowly. “R-e-a-d.”
“Really?” Kailyn made her eyes all big and round. “Gee, I thought this was a knitting club. Guess I’d better put these long needles away.” She sent Becca a piercing stare from Paige’s floral wingback. “Or maybe I can find some other use for them.”
“Hors d’oeuvre, anyone?” Paige waved a platter of fragrant, fresh-from-the-oven appetizers under our noses.
I snatched up one of the bite-sized goodies and popped it in my mouth, reveling in the savory goodness. “Yum. What is this?”
“Escargot in brioche.”
I swallowed hard.
Becca spit hers out into her napkin.
Paige offered the tray to Jenna.
“No thanks. I don’t eat animals, remember?”
“Escargot’s not an animal.”
“No, it’s a slug.” Becca shuddered and drained her ever-present water bottle.
Tess extended her napkin. “I’ll take Jenna’s and Becca’s both.”
Paige beamed.
“Me too.” Kailyn wolfed down two of the salty starters in rapid succession and licked her lips. “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.”
“Since when did you become all daring?” Becca asked.
“You’d be surprised.”
“That’s for sure. There’s more to my baby girl than meets the superficial eye.” Annette ruffled Kailyn’s blonde hair.
I popped another escargot into my mouth. I had to admit it was pretty delicious — as long as I thought of it by its French name.
Paige and Tess had decided we needed another movie night to prepare for our upcoming Paris trip — one that all the Paperback Girls could attend. And once again, Paige was assigned the task of selecting the films.
She chose an Audrey Hepburn double-feature. “We’re going to start with Audrey and Fred Astaire in Funny Face,” Paige said as she settled onto the floor next to Becca.
“Just so he doesn’t do any ballet.” Becca bit into her crunchy French bread.
“Hey!” Paige brushed baguette crumbs from her shirt. “Didn’t your
mother ever teach you not to talk with your mouth full?”
“Sorry,” Becca mumbled behind the hand she’d clapped to her mouth.
“Quelle horreur! ” Kailyn exclaimed.
“Ah, I see someone’s been practicing their French.”
“Mais oui. Maman, aussi.”
Paige started the movie and Kailyn, much to my surprise, lapped up all the fifties fashions. I cringed, however, at a musical number that swathed everyone and everything in an all-too-familiar pink.
And then we were in Paris.
“Wow.” Kailyn propped her chin in her hands. “What a beautiful city.”
“I can’t wait to go back,” Annette said.
“I can’t wait to go for the first time.” I gawked at the screen, devouring all the amazing sights. “And I don’t care how touristy it is, I’m getting my picture taken at the Eiffel Tower.”
Becca agreed and said she was also planning to send postcards to everyone she’d ever met.
“I was toying with the idea of sending a postcard to my ex,” Paige said. “He’s always wanted to go to Paris. But that would be mean, wouldn’t it?”
“Uh, no,” Jenna said. “Mean is leaving you for the bimbo kindergarten teacher. I say send away.”
“Yeah, and you should casually mention that you’re in the most romantic city in the world with a great boyfriend while you’re at it,” Becca added.
“Which would be a lie.”
“You never know. You could meet some hot French guy and fall head over heels.”
“How come old movies always have to end with a woman in a wedding dress?” Jenna asked as the credits rolled.
“Because it’s romantic,” Paige said. “Besides, it didn’t end with an actual wedding — she was just modeling the wedding dress for the fashion show.”
“Right. But it did end with the two of them floating off into the sunset together.”
“And what’s so wrong with that?”
“It’s not realistic. And it just sets up all these happily-ever-after fairy-tale fantasies for young girls.”
“What’s wrong with believing in happily ever after?”
Jenna sent Paige a look. “You of all people need to ask?”
Paige lifted her chin. “That doesn’t mean I’m ready to give up on love. I still believe in it. Marriage too.”
“Hear, hear,” Annette said.
Tess added a hearty amen.
“Come on, Becca. Chloe?” Jenna sent us a beseeching look. “Help me out here.”
“I agree with Jenna,” Becca said. “I haven’t seen many marriages last — beginning with my parents’ who split when I was six. No offense, Annette, but I pretty much think all that happily ever after stuff is a crock.”
“But how do you really feel?” Tess said. “Don’t sugarcoat it.”
“I feel that most women have been raised on destructive fairy tales that promote the myth that some prince is going to come along and rescue them from their lonely, miserable-without-a-man, cinder-scrubbing life. Then he’ll spirit them away to a magical marital kingdom in the suburbs where they’ll frolic happily ever after in the land of Pledge wipes, Jacuzzi tubs, and granite countertops.”
“Ah, but Pledge wipes are my friend,” Annette said with a wink.
“And happy marriages aren’t a myth,” Paige said. “There’s plenty of them around.”
“Paige is right.” I inclined my head to Annette. “What about Annette and Randall? And my parents? And Tess and my Uncle Ted?”
“What about someone in our age group?”
“My sister and Justin.”
“Yeah, like that’s really going to last,” Becca said. “Getting hitched because you’re knocked up is always a good way to start a marriage.”
A heavy silence filled the air as the Paperback Girls exchanged uncomfortable looks.
“Julia and Justin didn’t get married because she was ‘knocked up,’ ” I said in a level tone, although I could feel my eyes shooting off sparks. “They got married because they love each other. Deeply. Fully. Unconditionally. And because God brought them together.” I looked hard at my roommate. “And what God has joined together, let no man — or woman — put asunder.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t get your panties in a knot.”
“Time for a commercial.” Tess stood up. “Paige, didn’t you say you’d made some delicious dessert? May I help you serve it?”
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll help too.” Kailyn jumped up and followed Tess and Paige.
Annette decided she needed to use the little girls’ room and Jenna trailed after her, murmuring that she was next in line.
Way to clear a room.
I grabbed a copy of Paige’s latest Gourmet magazine and yanked it open, furiously flipping through the pages without really seeing them.
Becca drummed her Birks on the floor in an awkward staccato beat as I turned another page. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to make you mad, Chloe. But I thought you didn’t like your sister. You’re always trashing her — calling her Julia the Good, Julia the Perfect, Julia the golden child.”
“You’re right.” Heat crept up my neck. “I am. Was. But I’m allowed to — I’m her sister. Chalk it up to sibling rivalry. Jealousy. Whatever.”
And that makes it okay?
“Not that that makes it all right, but I’m working on that.” I took a deep breath. “Even though I was dumped at the altar, that hasn’t turned me against marriage. I still really believe in it and I’m sick of everyone giving it a bad rap.”
“Sorry,” Becca mumbled.
“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat like that. Guess I’m a little defensive.”
“Ya think?”
“Is it safe to come back into the war zone?” Tess called from the kitchen.
“All clear.”
The girls returned to their seats. “Mmm, this pear tart is yummy, Paige.” Jenna forked up another bite. “What’s this stuff on top?”
“Crème fraîche.”
“Is that French for whipped cream?” Becca asked before inhaling the rest of her tart.
“That’s la crème fouettée. Crème fraîche is actually slightly fermented cream that’s been thickened with lactic bacteria culture.”
“Bacteria?” Kailyn scrunched up her nose in distaste.
“What do you think’s in yogurt, baby girl?” Annette said. “Ever hear of acidopholus?” She turned to Paige. “So, how’d you make it? And is it the same as what we’ll get in Paris?”
“Pretty much. In France, their cream is unpasteurized, so it already contains the necessary bacteria to thicken it naturally into crème fraîche. Here, since all our cream is pasteurized, you have to add buttermilk to whipping cream in a glass bowl, cover it, and let it stand at room temperature from eight to twenty-four hours, until it achieves the necessary thickness.”
“Way too much work,” Becca said. “I’d just use whipped cream in a can.”
“But it’s nowhere near the same thing.”
Jenna sent Paige an affectionate look. “You’re such a foodie.”
“What can I say?” Paige looked ruefully at her midsection. “And I know it shows. That’s why I’m really loving French Women Don’t Get Fat. I can’t wait to try some of the recipes.”
“Me too,” Annette said. “Like that miracle leek soup she said helped her lose weight.”
Kailyn frowned. “Remember: no talking about the book until we’re all finished reading it.”
When Charade, our second movie of the night, ended, Jenna said she liked it a lot better than Funny Face.
“Well of course you did,” Tess said. “People kept getting killed, and we never knew who the real bad guy was until the end.”
“That’s what kept it interesting.”
“Cary Grant kept it interesting for me,” Annette said. “Mmm-hmm. That was one sexy leading man.”
Paige expelled a dreamy sigh. “Think we’ll find Cary
Grant or Fred Astaire in Paris?”
“If we did, it wouldn’t be pretty, since they’re both seriously dead,” Becca said.
“Funny.” Paige made a face at her. “I meant meeting a man like that in Paris.”
“Yeah, and having him sweep me off my feet, or dance me off my feet,” Kailyn said.
“More likely you’ll meet Inspector Clouseau and he’ll stumble over your feet.”
Paige said that next time we’d watch Amélie.
“Is that the French film from a few years ago?” Jenna asked. “I’ve heard it’s really good. And quirky.”
“Subtitles?” Annette scrunched up her face. “I hate having to read a movie. If I wanted to read, I’d open a book.”
“It’s better to help people than garden gnomes,” Becca intoned.
“What?”
“There she goes again,” I said. “The queen of the non sequitur.”
“It’s from Amélie.”
Jenna grinned. “Now I really want to see it.”
Part 8
18
Laughs are like wild mushrooms: they don’t deliver themselves to you — you have to go in search of them, whether by pursuing the unexpected, or by being totally crazy . . . to keep the adventure of living adventurous.
French Women Don’t Get Fat
A few weeks later after church, I stopped by Julia and Justin’s with Chinese take-out for lunch and Goodnight Moon for my soon-to-be niece or nephew.
Julia was feeling a little hormonal, so after we finished the Kung Pao, I urged Justin to go spend some guy time with his buddies. “Ryan said at church that he hasn’t seen you in a while. He told me to let you know that he’s going to play hoops with some of the college group if you want to join them.”
“Really?” Justin’s eyes lit up. He delivered a hopeful look to Julia. “Would you mind, honey?”
“Not if you bring me back some Chunky Monkey. And mangoes. I’ve really got a craving for mangoes.”
“Will do, babe.” Justin gave her a quick peck, and then bussed her stomach. “Bye-bye little one. Be good for your mom while I’m gone. Don’t kick her too hard.”
Daring Chloe Page 16
