Hello, Hollywood!

by Janice Thompson

  He paused and gazed at me so intently I could almost read his thoughts. In that moment, our words, our emotions, hung suspended in space. Then, from the shop, another “opa!” rang out, followed by a round of laughter.

  He quirked a brow. “Better get back to work.”

  “R-right.” I pulled a piece of paper from the notebook, folded it, and started fanning myself. Had someone adjusted the thermostat? The temperature in this room had suddenly gone up several degrees.

  Time to get to work.

  “Okay, so Angie and Jack are in love. They’re going to live happily ever after.”

  “Right. But we have to throw a few kinks in that plan.”

  “Yep.” I paused, pen in hand. “What can we do to up the conflict, beyond what we’ve already done? We’ve added the element of the older stars. We’ve created a potential takeover of their business.”

  He grinned. “I think we need another week or two of antics from the kids, and then maybe it’s time for that ‘Angie’s Having a Baby’ episode you’ve been waiting for.”

  I almost dropped my makeshift fan. “Really? You’re okay with that?”

  “I’ve always been okay with it, Athena. Just questioned the timing. I thought it would be best to give them more conflict before adding a child to the mix.” His voice rose to cover the noise coming from the restaurant. “That way, once the baby comes, there’s chaos all around, especially if we have a full cast of children and senior citizens. Can you imagine?”

  Suddenly I could, and what I saw delighted me. “It’s going to be a blast. Pure chaos . . . but a blast.”

  “Exactly. That’s what we’re going for—chaos.” He paused and his nose wrinkled. “Is someone baking fresh bread?”

  “Always.” I laughed. “Breads are my sister’s specialty, and Saturday is her biggest baking day. That’s why she gets the cousins to watch her kids on Saturday.”

  My mother entered the storeroom with a broom in hand. She took one look at us and grinned. “Sorry to interrupt. We had a little accident with the flour. Larisa’s baking the bread, but Paul knocked over the flour bin.”

  “Need me to help clean up?” I took a step toward her, but she put her hand up.

  “No, no. You stay here, Athena. You two need to . . .” She paused, and I could tell she bit back a few words. “Work. You need to work.”

  “Will you let us know when the bread is done?” Stephen asked. “It smells great.”

  “Of course,” Mama said. “It’s almost lunchtime anyway. We’ll feed you, I promise. The Pappas family never lets a guest go away hungry . . . for food or for love.”

  Mama!

  She winked and said, “We’ll eat soon. In the meantime, make yourself at home. Our shop is your shop. Anything you want, it’s yours.” At the words “anything you want,” her gaze darted to me. Lovely. But Stephen didn’t seem to notice. If he did, he kept right on talking about how good the bread smelled and how he could hardly wait to eat.

  “You know what we used to say in the old country, about bread?” my mother said.

  “No.” Stephen shook his head and closed his notebook.

  “In the village where I grew up, bread was considered a gift of God. The old women would bless the bread and make the sign of the cross with a knife before slicing it. We never took it for granted. Every gift in our lives comes from God. The little gifts . . .” She looked back and forth between us. “And the big things.”

  I felt my heart begin to race as the meaning of her words set in.

  “There’s something wholesome about bread making. You start with something so small and end up with something so large.” She paused, and the edges of her lips curled up. “It’s kind of like a relationship between a man and a woman.”

  “Oh?” Stephen looked a little confused by this statement.

  “Starts out small—maybe a thought, a glimmer of hope—and ends up growing over time.” Mama clasped her hands at her chest. “In the end, both parties are in love. It’s as beautiful as a fresh-baked loaf of bread.”

  I heard a sound at the door and looked up to see my father enter the storeroom.

  “I’ve never heard you carry on like this about bread, Thera.” He swept her into his arms. “But I love it. And I love you.” He gave her such a passionate kiss that I had to look away. Unfortunately—or fortunately—I found myself staring directly at Stephen, who stared back. And smiled. And winked.

  Either one of us could have looked away at any moment, but we chose not to. We didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to. Funny how the eyes could speak so much.

  One thing was abundantly clear . . . the yeast had just been added to our relationship. And I had the strangest feeling it was about to start growing.

  I couldn’t shake my grin as I led the way out of the storeroom. Mama and Babbas didn’t seem to notice. They were too busy holding hands and gabbing about how their love was like a loaf of bread—a gift from God above.

  All this talk about bread was making me hungry. My stomach hadn’t stopped growling for the last couple of hours. Hopefully we’d get to eat sooner rather than later.

  From across the store, I caught a glimpse of Paul sitting at one of the tables with my brother, playing cards. “Glad to see you’re hard at work,” I teased.

  “Hey, I was ready to start writing, but you two disappeared on me.” He looked back and forth between Stephen and me. “Thought maybe you ran away from home. Left me with the kids.” He gestured to the children, who played off in the distance.

  “I would never do that to you.” After a chuckle, I added, “But I can see Angie doing that to Jack. Can’t you? Maybe she leaves him alone for the day with all of the kids from the talent agency. He has to run a daddy day care for a day. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

  “Yeah, fun.” Paul yawned and put his cards down on the table. “But can we talk about this after lunch? I’m starving.”

  “We had planned to wait on Kat and Scott,” I said. “They should have been here by now.” I reached for my cell phone, noticing I’d missed a call from Kat. She’d left a message, which I listened to right away. “Ah. They had to stop off at Rex and Lenora’s house to drop something off, but they’re on their way now. She said to save some food for them.” My stomach grumbled again. “I think we’d better go ahead and eat without them.”

  “Perfect timing,” Babbas said. “In a couple of hours this place will be full again.”

  A voice rang out from behind me. “In that case, I’ll have the Super-Gyro with peppers and extra onions. Scratch the sauce. I’ve never been a fan.”

  I turned to see Bob walking my way.

  “No way. Well, howdy, stranger.”

  “Howdy, yourself.”

  Paul took one look at Bob and let out a whoop. “Welcome back, my friend. The prodigal son returns to the fold.”

  “Well, only for a few days. We’re on a break from filming.” Bob handed me a gift bag. “I come bearing gifts.”

  “That’s my line,” I said. “And what in the world are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in Tahiti or something?”

  “Nah.” He handed me the bag. “We were in the Amish country shooting the scene where the buggy repairman reveals that he’s a vampire in disguise.”

  “An Amish vampire story?” My mother did not look convinced.

  Bob nodded. “Anyway, we ran into some problems. The director had to have his appendix out, so they’ve shut down production for the next week or so.”

  “I had my appendix out in ’68,” my father said. “Want to see my scar?”

  He reached for the top of his pants, and I threw my hands up with a resounding, “No! Enough with the scars.”

  Bob laughed. “When I called Rex to tell him I was coming back to town, he told me you guys were powwowing, so I thought I’d crash your party. Is that okay?”

  “Is it okay?” I threw my arms around his neck, nearly dropping the little gift bag. “It’s more than okay. We’ve missed you. We need your spark.�
��

  “My spark, eh?” He brushed his fingers against his shoulder. “Guess I should have brought some matches. In the meantime, open your present.”

  I reached inside the little bag, pulling out a doll-sized quilt.

  “Whoa. This is beautiful. Did you quilt this yourself?”

  He laughed. “Hardly. Just decided I’d better bring you something from the Amish country.” He pointed across the counter to the food. “Anybody gonna offer this poor traveler some food?”

  Within minutes, we’d set up an assembly line with Babbas at the head of the line, Larisa in the middle, and me at the end. I’d sent Mama and Aunt Melina to a table to rest. Both had been on their feet all day, and I knew they still had hours of work ahead of them.

  “Larisa and I will make the sandwiches,” I said. “You guys just tell us what you want.”

  “Can I help?” Brooke’s voice rang out, and I looked her way with a smile.

  “Of course! We could use all the help we can get.”

  “Will you show me how? I’ve never made one of these before.”

  “Sure. I’d be glad to.”

  The guys got in line, and I showed Brooke how to make a gyro as we went along. She really seemed to get into it, especially the condiments part. Bob—never the patient sort—ordered first. He chose the Super-Gyro minus the sauce.

  Stephen opted for the souvlaki sandwich—our top sirloin shish kebab on a pita with tomato, bell pepper, onion, and tzatziki sauce. Paul wanted the Super-Gyro. On and on the orders went. Just about the time we’d made enough sandwiches to feed everyone in the place, Kat and Scott arrived.

  She approached the counter and grinned. “Hey, you.”

  “Hey, yourself.” I glanced her way, noticing how happy she looked. “Good day?”

  “Yep. How about you? How’s it going on this end?”

  If only you knew.

  “Getting some good ideas for Jack and Angie’s marriage?” she continued.

  “A few.” I was dying to tell her about my one-on-one conversation with Stephen but decided it had better wait. “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving. I think I want the spinach chicken pita, and Scott wants the Super-Gyro.”

  I grilled the chicken for Kat’s sandwich with Brooke standing at my side, gabbing all the while. When the chicken was done, I stuffed it into an open pita, and the preteen loaded it with sautéed spinach, onions, tomatoes, and dill, then topped it off with feta and mozzarella. All at my instruction, of course.

  “You’re really good at this,” I said as I watched her work. “You could almost do this for a living.”

  “You think so?” Brooke’s smile lit up the room. “When I’m old enough to get a job, maybe I’ll work here. That would be a lot of fun.” She nibbled a piece of cheese, and a contented look settled over her. “And the food’s good.”

  “Oh? Greek food is growing on you?” I asked.

  “I’ve always liked it,” she whispered. “Just didn’t want my dad to know. I love making him think I don’t like Greek stuff. It’s sort of a game I like to play.”

  “Quite a game.” I grinned. “Well, if you work here, you can eat to your heart’s content.” I paused, trying to remember what still needed to be done. “Oh yes. Now for Scott’s Super-Gyro. You watched me make all of the others. Think you can do this one yourself?”

  She nodded. “I think so. It’s lamb and beef, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “And just about everything else in the restaurant piled on top?”

  “Yep.”

  “All topped off with that—” Her brow wrinkled. “What did you call that sauce again?”

  “Tzatziki.”

  She tried to pronounce the word but butchered it. Oh well. At least she gave it an effort.

  When she finished, the sandwich looked a little sloppy, but—according to Scott, who ate every bite—it tasted great. Brooke beamed with delight at that proclamation.

  I reached over to give her a hug. “Thanks for your help, Brooke. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “You’re welcome. But I’m starving.”

  “What do you want to eat? I can fix you anything on the menu.”

  She glanced up at the menu board. “There are a lot of things I’ve never had before.”

  “Have you tried falafel?”

  “No. What is it?”

  “Chickpea patties served in a pita with lettuce, tomato, and onion. You can have the tahini, tzatziki, or hot sauce on the side.”

  “Gross.” Her nose wrinkled. “I feel sick just thinking about it.”

  “Okay, what about the cheesesteak?”

  “Like Philly cheesesteak?” Her eyes widened. “I love that.”

  “Great. Cheesesteak it is. Coming right up.”

  “Can I help you?” The imploring look in her eyes touched my heart.

  “Of course. C’mon back here, girl.”

  I spent the next few minutes teaching her how to put together the best cheesesteak in town. I made it extra-large so that we could share it. And man, the smell! As that beef sizzled, the heavenly aroma filled the room.

  Kat joined us behind the counter as we nibbled on bites of the gooey goodness.

  “You two look like you’re having fun back here. You must be talking about boys.”

  “Boys?” Brooke laughed. “No. We’re talking about sandwiches.”

  “Nothing very romantic about sandwich making,” I said.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” Kat gestured to Scott, who took a big bite of his sandwich. “So I guess you could say that sandwich making is a tool of the trade.”

  “Never thought about it.” I took another bite. “But I guess you’re right.” I nodded in Brooke’s direction. “I was giving Brooke a lesson in gyro making.”

  “A lesson in hero making, eh?” Kat grinned as she stressed the word. “Sorry I missed that.”

  “What are we building over here?” Larisa asked as she joined us. “Heroes?”

  Kat nodded. “Yes. Sounds like it.”

  “How does one go about building a hero, pray tell?” Larisa asked.

  “You’re asking a writer how to build a hero?” I giggled. “Oh, honey. I could build you the best hero in town. You have no idea.”

  “You might not need to build one, Athena,” Kat said. “Maybe he’s already here.” She glanced at Stephen, then back at me with a playful wink.

  “W-what?” I felt the color drain from my cheeks.

  “You have a crush on my dad?” Brooke’s eyes widened. “I knew it.”

  Now what, Athena?

  My silence apparently went on a bit too long. Kat gave me a knowing look. “Let me ask you a question, Athena.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “If you were building a hero, what would you add?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just approach this like you would approach making a sandwich. We’re going to list the ingredients you’re looking for in a man.”

  “Huh?”

  “C’mon now. Just play along.” I picked up on the sparkle in her eyes. “What’s your idea of the perfect sandwich?”

  “Depends on the day.” I stared down at the selections in front of me. “Lamb. Or beef. Kind of depends on what I’m feeling like. Has to have peppers, of course. And onions. Tomatoes. Oregano. Garlic. Yogurt.”

  “And if any one ingredient is missing?”

  “It’s just not the same.”

  “That’s how the search for a mate is too.”

  “What?”

  “It’s true. Let’s say you find a guy you think is just right. Maybe he’s lamb and cumin with peppers and tomatoes. But no onions.”

  “I’m looking for a guy with no onion?” I laughed. “I’m not sure I get it.”

  “Athena, I’m trying to get at something here. What are you looking for in a husband? Have you made a list?”

  “Yeah, how will you know Mr. Right if he
comes along?” Larisa asked. “Maybe he’ll walk in the door and you’ll miss him because you didn’t realize that’s who—or what—you were looking for.” She turned her gaze to Stephen, then jabbed me in the ribs with her elbow.

  “Ouch.” I rubbed my side.

  Brooke started giggling. “This is fun. I like building heroes.”

  Easy for her to say. She was only eleven. She still had plenty of time.

  “I don’t know,” I finally managed. “I mean, I’m obviously looking for the most basic things. He’s got to love me and love my family. He’s got to be a strong Christian. No wiggle room on that one.”

  “My dad’s a Christian,” Brooke said. “And he’s a family guy.” She pointed to herself. “I’m proof of that. What more do you need?” She glanced at her father. “And he’s definitely handsome. Right?”

  “Well, yes, he’s handsome, but who ever said I needed a handsome guy? When it comes to the physical, I’m probably not as picky as you might think.” Hypocrite. Weren’t you originally attracted to Stephen because you thought he looked like Adonis? “Okay, maybe I am. But I’m no beauty, so I can’t really expect a cover-model guy to be drawn to me. Ya know?”

  Kat shook her head. “Don’t let me ever hear you say that again.”

  “I’m not like you, Kat. I’m not a TV star. I’m just an average-looking girl from a loud, crazy family who wonders if there’s a guy out there who might look twice at her without flinching.”

  Larisa slugged me in the arm.

  “Ow!” I rubbed my arm and glared at her.

  “You are an amazing woman, and any guy would be lucky to have you,” she said.

  “That’s why I keep you on the payroll,” I said. “Because you say things like that.”

  “Some payroll. You pay me in sandwiches.” She giggled. “Not that I’m complaining. Anyway, let’s go back to what you’re looking for. Tall, dark, and handsome, I’m sure.”

  “Doesn’t have to be. At my age, I’ll take short, chubby, and moderately good-looking.”

  Brooke rolled her eyes, muttered something about adults under her breath, and then went off to join Mary and Trina on the other side of the store.