Carlos was equally enthusiastic when I told him about the news at home. “Twins, Julieta. Twins. Double the babies. This will be so wonderful. They will be best friends.”
I was still trying to adjust to the idea that I was pregnant, let alone potentially pregnant with twins.
“You must sit, immediately, mi querida.” Carlos ushered me into the living room and proceeded to prop my feet up with pillows and wrap a blanket around my shoulders.
“I’m fine. I’m just pregnant.” Saying it out loud didn’t make it feel any more real.
“You must keep your feet up and rest, Julieta. I will make you a delicious and protein-packed dinner. Then you must get good sleep.” He sat next to me and gently massaged my belly, his eyes filled with emotion. “Twins?”
I sucked in a breath and reached for his hand for support. “The doctor said she doesn’t know for sure. We’ll have to wait and see what the tests show.”
“It is twins. I’m sure.” Carlos linked his fingers through mine.
We sat together in a comfortable silence, meditating on the profound change this was going to have on our lives. I knew that Carlos was going to be an amazing partner and dad. I had already witnessed it firsthand in his relationship with Ramiro. I was less sure about myself. What if I didn’t know what to do with a baby? How was this going to impact Torte? How would a baby—or babies—shift my relationship with Carlos?
I tried not to let my anxiety take root. This was the best news, and I didn’t have to do it alone. I had Carlos and Mom and the Professor and my entire Ashland family.
“You relax,” he said after massaging my flat stomach again. “I’ll make us dinner and then you must get good rest.”
Ramiro was out to ramen and a movie with his prom date, which meant that Carlos and I had the night alone to process.
He tucked a second blanket over my feet. “First, I will make you a healthy shake. Then dinner. You do not move a muscle, sí?”
“I’m not an invalid.” I appreciated his pampering, but it wasn’t as if I was going to spend the next nine months on the couch.
“This is what I can do for you, my love, so please let me.” He didn’t blink as he beamed at me with glowing cheeks.
“Okay.” I smiled wistfully. It was a lot to take in, but knowing that he would be at my side every step of the way made it easier to digest. Not that I wasn’t thrilled to be pregnant. I had just convinced myself that I wasn’t. To go from that to twins was a shock.
Carlos read websites about what to expect in the first trimester out loud from the kitchen. He returned shortly with a blended peanut butter and banana smoothie. “Drink this. It says you need lots of protein in these first months.”
I didn’t protest. The smoothie was thick and creamy with almond milk, yogurt, peanut butter, and fresh bananas.
“What about names?” Carlos called from the kitchen as he seared chicken breasts and chopped veggies.
“Too soon. Too soon,” I teased. The smoothie settled my stomach and calmed my nerves. Maybe the timing was perfect. I had already made a commitment to scale back at the bakeshop. Having a baby—or two!—would force that issue. Change was coming one way or another.
By the time dinner was ready, I was famished. We enjoyed a leisurely meal together and talked through what was next. We agreed not to share the news with anyone until I was farther along and after the ultrasound had confirmed whether we were having twins or not. My eyes began to flutter shortly after I’d consumed two slices of Carlos’s plum cake. I drifted off to sleep dreaming of tiny onesies, little hands, and Carlos singing sweet lullabies.
The rest of the week was relatively uneventful, thankfully so.
I finished testing the whale cake and started on one for our surprise Sunday Supper, lined up a series of interviews, and mapped out schedules for the remaining performances of The Taming of the Shrew at Uva. Marty and I conspired on plans for Steph and Sterling’s goodbye.
By the time Sunday arrived, my jeans felt snug around my waist and my stomach was constantly rumbling, though it could have just been my imagination.
I sent Sterling and Steph to Uva at noon under the guise of helping with the matinee and sitting in on interviews for their replacements with Carlos.
“I’ll start on the wontons and spring rolls,” Marty said, rolling up his sleeves once they were both gone. “The buns for the sliders are already done and cooling.”
“Excellent. I’ll work on barbecue chicken cups and assemble the sliders,” I replied, walking to the fridge for supplies.
The barbecue chicken cups would be served in puff pastry shells. I started on those first by spraying the bottom of muffin tins and cutting the buttery pastry into squares. I pressed the dough into the tins and filled them with pie weights. They would bake until they were puffy and golden.
For the filling, I shredded rotisserie chicken, added chopped green onions, cilantro, and our house-made barbecue sauce. I let that chill in the walk-in. We would fill the cups right before serving dinner.
Next, I seasoned organic ground beef with garlic, honey, ginger, and teriyaki sauce and formed the mixture into small patties. They would be grilled and then layered with thinly sliced pineapple, sautéed onions, and tomatoes.
The afternoon went by in a flash.
Rosa and Bethany pushed the tables together to create one long shared table when I went upstairs shortly after closing. We covered the table in a seafoam green cloth and decorated it with pretty shells, candles, and flowers from a Rose by Any Other Name. Marty and Andy brought up platters of Hawaiian sliders and flaky cream cheese wontons.
We hung bon voyage banners and set plush toy whales at every place setting.
Mom and the Professor arrived with Ramiro.
“This looks so festive,” Mom gushed, shrugging off her lightweight coat. “Do they have any idea?”
“I hope not.” I crossed my fingers. “Carlos and Lance are at Uva with them. Lance promised to text when they’re on their way, so we have a heads up.”
“I see someone wisely brought tissues.” The Professor never missed a detail. He motioned to the boxes of tissues Bethany had placed on each end of the table.
“Yeah, I have a feeling there might be a few tears tonight,” I admitted.
“Don’t worry, Jules. I’m not leaving yet.” Ramiro winked and wrapped his arm around me.
“That is going to require a truckload of tissues.” I nudged him in the ribs. “But not so soon. We still have a few weeks with you, and I intend to follow you everywhere. How do you feel about me tagging along to prom?”
“Now, this is a full-circle moment. Juliet Montague Capshaw, you would have revolted if I’d tried to sneak into your prom.” Mom gasped. “Ramiro, don’t let her.”
I grinned.
The Professor cleared his throat. “If I may, I think tonight’s theme centers on this passage by Havelock Ellis, ‘All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding in.’”
“Well said.” I squeezed Ramiro as tight as I could. “I feel good about the holding in. The letting go, not so much.”
“Indeed.” The Professor let out a contented sigh. “Shall we pour a letting-go drink?”
“That sounds lovely.” Mom placed her coat over her arm and moved toward the table.
My phone buzzed with a text from Lance alerting us that our guests of honor were minutes away. “Places, everyone.” I flipped off the lights as we all took our seats around the shared table.
“Surprise!” we shouted in unison when Sterling and Steph strolled through the front door.
They both froze like the deer in Lithia Park.
“Bon voyage,” Marty boomed.
Carlos reached for the lights, illuminating our little merry party.
“What?” Steph gaped and turned to Sterling. “Did you know about this?”
“No.” Sterling shook his head, his mouth hanging open too. He pointed to his chest. “This is for us?”
“For you,” I said, clutching my hands into fists to keep the tears at bay.
Rosa turned on an ocean-themed playlist. Sequoia poured drinks. Andy waved Sterling and Steph to their seats.
Steph blinked like she had something stuck in her eye. “Is this a whale cake?”
Bethany scooted her chair so close to Steph’s that she was practically sitting in her lap. “Jules and I were sure that you were onto us multiple times. It’s so much blue buttercream.”
“I had no clue.” Steph tucked her hair behind her ears and leaned closer to get a better look at our detailed work.
Marty handed Sterling the tray of sliders. “Help yourself, Chef.”
Sterling threw his hand over his mouth, too overcome with emotion to speak.
“That’s why I got tissues.” Bethany reached past Andy to hand Sterling the box.
“This is amazing. Huge gratitude,” Sterling said, once he had pulled himself together.
Mom clinked her spoon to her wineglass and stood. “I’d like to offer a toast.”
I was glad she had stepped in. We hadn’t coordinated a toast, and I wasn’t sure I could speak without falling apart.
“When we first opened Torte’s doors, it felt like a pipe dream. We joked that we would be lucky if we lasted a year. That was the prevailing advice about opening a bakery or restaurant. If you could make it a year, good—maybe you have a chance. Three years, though, that was the mark of viability. I distinctly remember Juliet sitting right over in that corner with her face covered in chocolate ganache at our three-year anniversary celebration.” She pointed to the chalkboard menu. “Well, my wildest dreams have been exceeded, and that is thanks to each and every one of you seated at this table. Torte isn’t a bakeshop. It’s community. It’s creativity. It’s food. It’s love. It’s family. A business isn’t the brick walls or the espresso machine. It’s you. It’s the people. And I can say unequivocally we have the best people.”
Everyone let out a collective “aww.”
“Now, I realize that tonight is bittersweet, just like Andy’s dark chocolate mochas.”
Andy pumped his fist. “Thanks for the shoutout, Mrs. The Professor.”
Mom tipped her glass and continued. “I’ve come to cherish these bittersweet moments the most, because they show our connection. How deeply we’ve touched and molded each other’s lives. Steph’s designs and Sterling’s exquisite flavors and recipes will live on in these walls and in every future kitchen that is lucky enough to be graced by their presence. I cannot wait to see where this grand new adventure leads you both, and most importantly I want you to know that you always have a home and family at Torte. Cheers to you.”
“Cheers.” There was a mix of clapping and tears as we clinked glasses.
Lance leaned over. “Helen knows how to bring down the house.”
I wiped my nose with a tissue. “Yes, she does.”
The mood for the remainder of the night was more subdued than a typical Sunday Supper, but the atmosphere was festive, and I kept reminding myself that in addition to the sadness of Sterling and Steph venturing out on their own, it was also a time of celebration. Things were changing on so many levels—Torte, our family, my body.
All of it was for the better. Even the sad parts.
That was life.
Love, loss, food, family, and sharing a comforting meal around a table while raising a glass in toast to all the good things yet to come.