The Secret Ingredient Page 14

  Jeremy eats with his mouth slightly open, and though it’s pretty gross, I’m used to it.

  “What’s going on with the Dads?”

  “Well, the movie shoot bought the restaurant some time, with some left over for the house, but I’m not sure how much more we need for that.”

  “What?”

  “They owe a lot of back payments on the mortgage.”

  “Crap. It doesn’t end. This deal better go through.”

  “Yeah.” I sigh.

  Jeremy slurps up the milk at the bottom of his bowl and looks at me. For a moment, all the confidence is drained from his face. He looks like a frightened animal waiting for someone to save him. I glance at his guitar leaning against the wall and think about his dream, how hard he’s worked and how he’s never given up. I hug him and whisper in his ear, “It will go through.”

  “Hope so. Thanks for the Honey Bunches of Oats.”

  “They don’t call me Chef for nothing.”

  He grabs his guitar and does a little hop toward the door.

  CHAPTER 25

  On the way to Laguna, Lola tells me that she actually asked Jin out.

  “That’s awesome!”

  “I think he was a bit flustered—don’t you think that’s a good sign?”

  “Yes.”

  She asks me why I don’t have the necklace on, and I decide that I can tell her about what I saw without completely breaking down, so I do. She’s just as baffled as I am.

  “Well, we’ve got other food on our plate at the moment, don’t we?”

  She enters the HOV lane, and I tell her about Jeremy putting an old scarecrow in the passenger seat of Bell’s car just so he could ride the lane to his friend’s concert in Long Beach. She laughs. The road stretches out before us like a chance.

  “When I said goodbye to Bell, I could feel the secret in the air between us,” I say. “It’s the one part of this whole thing that feels off. Bell thinks I’m just going to hang out with you. Which is not a lie, but also not the total truth.”

  I think of Rose not telling Kurt the whole Eloise story.

  “Well, if it’s bugging you, why don’t you call him right now and tell him?”

  “I feel like that would be a cop-out. I’ll just tell him in person when I get back. He lied to me about my mother remaining nameless, so in a way we’re even.”

  “I’ve told you this before, but I like the way you think, Livie.”

  Our hotel is perched on a cliff on the coastline, and as Lola checks us in I sit on one of the white couches and stare out the window. There really is nothing more beautiful than the ocean. For the second time since the Stingray Trauma, I don’t get a panicked feeling. It actually looks approachable.

  A father and his young son step up to the glass, and I hear the boy say, “All the oceans in the world are connected.”

  The father looks at him, and I can tell he’s amazed that the kid has grasped this concept. As they walk away I think about what he said about the ocean. Maybe my fear comes from more than the stingray. Maybe I’ve always just been overwhelmed by the power of it.

  I guess I look exhausted, because when Lola comes back, she asks what’s wrong.

  “I’m just tired.”

  “How does a nap sound?”

  “Great.”

  “Okay, I’m going to have a late lunch with my cousin, so let’s meet in the lobby at seven.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Our room is huge and smells like fresh lemon. I lie on the bed closest to the window and listen to the long, slow breath of the sea. Despite everything, the sound of the waves has always been soothing to me. I think of the surfer girl whose arm was bitten off by a shark, and how two months later she was back in the water. Having that kind of courage is unfathomable to me. But here I am in Laguna, in search of my mother.

  I sleep for a good hour or so, and when I wake up I decide to walk down to the cute part of town where the galleries, cafes, and clothing stores are. I walk into a shop called Surf and Sport, and right in front is a mannequin wearing a yellow bikini with a white rose on the bottom part. A girl about my age walks up and says, “Pretty, right? We just got those in.”

  “I know someone named Rose,” I tell her. “Maybe I should get it.”

  “You’d look super cute in it,” the girl says.

  It’s thirty-nine dollars, and I only have thirty-five. The girl looks over her shoulder to see if her manager’s around, then says, “It’s cool. No worries.”

  “Thanks,” I tell her, and she smiles at me like we’re best friends.

  When I get back to the hotel, I put on the suit and it fits perfectly. I wrap a towel around myself and slip into my flip-flops. I take the stairs down to the beach, and the sand is warm from a full day of being sun-kissed. The waves are tame, and the water is very clear, its color hovering right between blue and green.

  As I walk closer to the edge, I touch the rose on my suit, thinking of her and the courageous surfer girl. Why can’t I be just as brave? When the first wave runs over my feet I laugh a little. I’m not sure what’s funny about it, but everything feels like it’s in slow motion, like I’m watching myself go in farther and farther until the water is almost at my waist. The line of the fading sun makes a million sparks on the top of the water, and they’re all pointing directly at me.

  CHAPTER 26

  In the end, I don’t go under and really swim, but it’s a start. When I get back to the hotel, I shower and put on my polka-dot dress (a hand-me-down from Lola). Then I sit on the floor in front of the mirror and wonder if all this is really happening. I just stepped into the ocean, and my mother is within three hundred yards of me right now.

  The message light on the room phone is blinking red. I check it and it’s Theo. He sounds very upset and must have been on his cell in a bad area because I can barely make out what he’s saying. Another reason I can’t stand cell phones.

  I walk to the window, wondering what dumb excuse he came up with. I think about calling him back, but I’m here on a mission and I can’t let a boy crowd my thoughts.

  Instead of calling Theo, I decide to check in with Bell, as promised. He sounds happy that I’ve called. I tell him about the hotel, and he tells me that it looks like Jeremy actually didn’t get the record deal, but he got a development deal.

  “What does that mean?” I ask.

  “Well, they’re still giving him an advance, but they want to take six months to develop his sound.”

  “Oh.”

  “It’s still good news, and there’s a good chance it will lead to a record deal.”

  I don’t tell Bell that I’m about to see my mother, but I do tell him I went into the ocean. I can almost see him beaming through the phone.

  “Thattagirl!”

  “Well, I didn’t actually swim, but I went in above my knees.”

  “Well, baby steps, as they say. Just be careful out there, you know, in the world.”

  I smile. “I can look after myself, Dad.”

  After I hang up, I lie on the plush bed and stare at the ceiling, thinking about everything that has led me to this day, this moment. I take ten deep breaths, like my seventh-grade drama teacher taught me, pretending there’s a small balloon I’m inflating in my stomach. It’s a relaxation technique. I tell myself: This is where I’m meant to be. I went into the ocean, and tonight, I will meet my mother.

  I flip through the cookbook again to see if I missed any of Rose’s notes. I’ve read all the ones in the margins. But on one of the blank pages at the back of the book, there’s a poem without a date.

  The day you left, you told me

  There is nothing as sweet

  As the sound of my laugh.

  Well, I have made the bread

  And I have stood in the rain

  To hide the tears.

  We are soldiers of a similar war

  And we fight to understand

  What the fight is for.

  I hope one day I will laugh
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  And wherever you are, you will hear it.

  I lie back on the pillows, pressing the book against my loudly beating heart.

  Lola bursts into the room and says, “You look smashing! I’m ready, I swear, just give me a minute.”

  “How was your cousin?”

  “Oh, he’s a bit geeky, but it was fun. I didn’t tell him about Mum. She doesn’t want anyone to know. You know how we Brits are with messy, emotional things.”

  “Maybe she’s just hopeful.”

  “Perhaps. But now, my friend, it’s time to meet your mother.”

  As we head down to the lobby, I wonder if I will always think of the psychic when I’m in an elevator. She was right—this summer has been “pivotal,” to say the least. When she mentioned the “choices,” maybe she was referring to deciding whether to find my mother. Part of me hopes my mother will be happy to see me and we’ll form some sort of bond. She is a cook, after all. Maybe we can trade recipes, and she can be there if I ever have my own child. I realize I’ve gotten carried away and take a breath to slow myself down. We reach the lobby and head outside into the circular courtyard, stopping at the large fountain.

  “So this is it, huh?”

  “Yes. But remember, Livie, you don’t want to rush into it.”

  “So basically I should run in there and scream ‘Mommy!’ at the top of my lungs?”

  She laughs and says, “Maybe try a different approach.”

  I’m not sure if it’s the cobblestone sidewalk, but as the orange awning comes into view again, I feel unsteady on my legs. I grab Lola’s arm for extra support and take ten more really deep breaths. Again I imagine the balloon in my stomach, gently filling all the way up with air.

  “Let’s just be normal,” Lola says.

  “Right.”

  “Look at it this way. You have the upper hand. You can tell her, or not. Your choice.”

  She’s right. I really should try to unfreak myself out.

  We’re greeted by a young waiter who seats us by tilting his head toward a table at the front. I glance out the window before we sit down. The sun has sunk through the trees, and there’s a yellow, almost full moon starting to rise.

  A woman comes to greet us. She’s wearing a thin sweater and jeans, and is using a cane to help her walk. When she turns to face me, I hold my breath. She looks, and I’m not kidding, like Julie Andrews. Her hair is the exact color of mine and her eyes are the same shape. The sensation is like looking into a mirror of the future, and I have to look away.

  I nod, finally let out my breath, and blink away the beginning of a tear. She smiles and hands us the menus. Her fingers are long and delicate, and adorned with only one simple silver ring. There are some burn marks on her forearms, which tells me she not only runs the place, she’s also doing a fair amount of the cooking.

  “Hi. I’m Olivia,” I say. Lola gives me a look. I have no idea why I just introduced myself.

  She looks at me curiously, as if she’s almost recognizing something, but then snaps back into hostess mode.

  “Hi, Olivia, I’m Jane. What brings you to Laguna?”

  I am so not prepared for this question.

  “I’m visiting my cousin,” Lola says, “and Olivia’s never been here, so here we are! And we heard this is the best place, so we had to come—Livie here is quite the cook herself.”

  “Wonderful. Perhaps I’ll give you a tour of our high-tech kitchen a little later. But for now, let’s get you a drink.”

  “Fizzy water, please,” Lola says, “and she’ll have orange juice. It’s all she drinks.”

  I think Lola is starting to get more excited than I am.

  “Coming right up,” Jane says, and smiles right at me. I feel like jumping into her arms.

  “Oh my Lord, she looks just like you!” Lola stage-whispers when Jane is out of sight. “It’s like a movie.”

  The waiter brings us some bread and olive tapenade, and even though I’m literally shaking and can’t fathom eating anything, I am curious to try it. There’s something different about it, and I think I know what it is. It’s one of the best tapenades I’ve ever tasted.

  “What?” Lola asks.

  “Sun-dried tomato,” I reply. “The marinated kind. That’s the signature touch. Just pure olive is too salty, too boring. The SDT gives it some balance.”

  “SDT? That’s dangerously close to STD.”

  I almost choke on my water. I’m trying to act normal, but I don’t think it’s working.

  “I feel like she kind of recognized me. This is so surreal.”

  “Just keep breathing. She seems very chill.”

  My mother comes back with the sparkling water and my juice. I try not to stare, but it’s impossible not to. The woman gave birth to me, and I haven’t seen her in almost seventeen years.

  I try to imagine what I look like to her. Is the polka-dot dress too much? I start getting paranoid that I must seem like a nervous wreck, but Jane’s gaze warms me like a blanket, so I am briefly calmed.

  “Olivia says there’s SDT in your tapenade,” Lola says.

  “Good tongue,” Jane says, impressed.

  “Thanks,” I reply, half under my breath. I take a sip of my orange juice and try to set it back down, but completely miss the table. The glass crashes on the floor and juice goes everywhere. Jane motions for the busboy like this sort of thing happens all the time. In a frantic haze, I apologize and excuse myself to go to the bathroom, and when I look in the mirror I see that I’m bright red. I splash my face with cold water and tell myself to suck it up. Yes, it’s my mother. But I don’t want to give myself away until I’m ready. I want this on my terms.

  As I come out, I notice Jane expediting some of the orders, turning on her heel and using the cane as sort of a kick start.

  “Oh my God, I’m such a spaz,” I tell Lola as I sit down.

  “Livie, no one’s bothered. Just breathe. They poured you more juice. But maybe keep the glass near the center of the table this time.”

  “Good idea.”

  For the rest of our meal, my mother doesn’t return, and I’m thankful actually. I keep stealing glances toward the kitchen. I can see some large pots that look like something Julia Child would have used. So clearly she was being sarcastic when she said high-tech. Occasionally I can see the top of Jane’s head below the small expediting station. The place has filled up, and it looks like she’s working hard. I think there are only two other prep cooks. As Lola goes on about something Jin-related, I get more of an appetite, and after the first bite of my roast chicken I realize I’m starving. Sometimes it just takes a taste of something to get your hunger going. Like when Theo first kissed me, all I could think about was lying next to him, feeling his whole body touch mine. The first kiss was just the beginning. But was our last kiss the end?

  This chicken is one of the best I’ve ever had. Jane must know the trick of putting some butter under the skin.

  “So, Livie,” Lola whispers, “what do you think?”

  I don’t say anything, and Lola looks at me expectantly.

  “Of the chicken?”

  “No, of your mother!” Lola says a little too loudly.

  “I don’t know what to think. I’m just trying not to pass out. It’s weird. I mean, if she gave me up when I was two days old, why would she want to see me now?”

  Lola looks toward the kitchen and smiles a little. “I’m not sure she will. But that was a long time ago. Why don’t you come back tomorrow if you don’t feel ready now? Didn’t your boss say she lives upstairs?”

  I look up, trying to imagine her place, if she decorated it like I would, if she’s neat. In our house, mine is the only room that’s always tidy. I definitely didn’t get that from Bell or Enrique. And Jeremy, well, he’s a total slob.

  “I could see myself having her kind of life.”

  We finally get up to leave, and as we step outside, dark clouds are quickly covering the stars. The air is thicker, and a strong wind rattles the p
oplars, their petals floating everywhere. In the short time we were inside, the weather completely flipped.

  The wind is so loud we barely talk on the way back to the hotel. In the elevator, the bellman notices our windblown hair and says, “Crazy, huh?” We nod and smile, and he says, “I hear L.A. is getting hit even harder.”

  We settle into our room, and I distract myself with some bad but somehow entertaining reality TV while Lola takes a bath. Eventually I find a cooking show and become transfixed. As I get sleepy, I flip through once more, and on CNN there’s breaking news on the storm in Los Angeles. There’s a reporter getting whipped by the wind, and it looks like the rain is actually going sideways. She’s saying it’s the worst storm L.A. has seen in over a decade, and they show clips of Sunset Boulevard, right by my house. My eyes bulge and my stomach tightens at the sight of three palm trees on my street—the one constant in my life—broken and splayed on the boulevard, their leaves already being run over by cars.

  My palm trees. Those towering, skinny monsters with mop heads looking over everything. I never thought they would come down, not in a million years. My face is still frozen, and I’m staring at the footage but not really hearing the words the reporter is saying. I take out the cookbook and write a note to Rose:

  The palm trees have fallen. I feel like a part of me broke with them. Is that how you felt with Matthew? Rose, you did the right thing, going back to Kurt. Maybe Eloise will find someone, and she’ll move on and you can go back to being best friends. Or not. Either way, you lived as you knew how, and sometimes that’s all we can do.

  CHAPTER 27

  I get up very early and again have to tell myself that what is happening to me is real, that I’m not dreaming. I met my mother last night, and the palm trees have fallen. Will I miss Theo forever? Does Rose still miss Matthew? Is nothing in life constant? I think about Bell, Enrique, Jeremy, and Lola. They have been constant. But in the end, it’s just me. We are only here temporarily, so we have to make it last. Speak the truth, follow our hearts, and break the rules once in a while.