Dining with Joy

by Rachel Hauck

  “You got a visitor.” She bent back to toss the toothpick in the trash. “And no, it ain’t Joy.”

  “Now why would I want it to be Joy?” Luke swung the screen door wide, letting it clap against the tabby wall and paused at the sink to wash his hands. When he reached for the towel, Mercy Bea held yesterday’s Sunday Gazette under his nose.

  “This is why you want it to be Joy.” Mercy Bea flipped through the pages with exaggeration. “Let’s see. Who won the Water Festival Cook-Off ? Wenda Divine or Joy Ballard? Gee, I can’t find news of it anywhere here in the front section.” She snapped her knuckles against the front page. “But I sure know who Joy Ballard’s kissing. What a humdinger. Felt it all the way to the second row.”

  Luke mashed down the paper and peered into Mercy’s eyes. Enough. He didn’t need a reminder. “Where’d you sit my visitor?”

  “Back booth.” Mercy tucked the folded newspaper under her arm. “Just so you know, I’m keeping this for posterity.”

  “You do that.” Luke exited the kitchen into the dining room, sweeping his gaze around the tables in case she happened in while Mercy Bea picked her teeth. Paris waited on a couple of tourists, and Russell bussed the tables left over from the dinner crowd.

  And there was no Joy in the room.

  But in the back booth, sitting in a wide swath of southern light, sat a petite dark-haired woman.

  “Afternoon,” Luke said as he approached. “What can I do for you?” Luke remained standing, his arms folded over his stained chef whites. It’d been a messy day in the kitchen.

  “Luke Redmond, I’m Allison Wild.” The woman motioned for him to slide into the booth across from her. “I hope this is not a bad time.”

  “No, not a bad time. We’re in a bit of a lull. What can I do for you?” Had he seen her before? Maybe. In town? At the cook-off ? In the café?

  “I like a man who gets to the point. I’ll do the same.” Allison pulled a form from the attaché sitting next to her in the booth. Sharp angles outlined her features, and the glint behind her dark eyes inspired the word intense. “I’d like you to join the Dining with Joy show.”

  Luke tightened his jaw as he settled against the back of the booth, the leatherette seat cool to the touch. “Why would I want to join Joy’s show? Better yet, why do you want me to join the show? Because I beat Wenda?”

  “Beating Wenda is always a good thing, no doubt about that. And you have a good presence and stellar culinary skills. But until that kiss, you were just another hunky man in a chef coat.”

  “Never imagined a kiss could become a part of my résumé.”

  “It’s a bit unusual, yes.”

  And private. Luke shifted forward, unsure if he wanted the intimacy of a kiss to be on the bargaining table. He was a chef, not a Hollywood actor. “I’m not sure what you’re after, Allison.”

  “We posted a clip of you and Joy on YouTube Saturday night. Within twenty-four hours the clip was viewed a hundred thousand times. Unique hits. Not return viewers.” Allison let the stat of a hundred thousand views hang in the air without further explanation. “But we weren’t the only ones who posted a clip. Of those posted by fans, and I’m guessing most of those were uploaded by the frat boys, the kissing scene earned another twenty-five thousand hits. By the time I got in the car to come see you, those numbers tripled. And it’s only Monday.”

  “What a sad, sad world.”

  “Sad? Luke, this is amazing. The magic between you two was palpable. Everyone in the audience Saturday was mesmerized. The men wanted to be you. The women wanted to be Joy. The comments on YouTube tell the same story. You’re the new Brad and Angelina, a throwback to Bogie and Bacall, Hepburn and Tracy.”

  “Listen, I hate to burst your bubble, Allison, but I just met Joy a few weeks ago. The kiss was spontaneous, in the moment. We couldn’t recreate it if you paid us a million dollars.”

  “I’m offering you a show and the chance to try. I’m betting the spark I saw on Saturday is the tip of a volcano.”

  Luke speared the table with his elbow and ran his hand over his head. A volcano? He hated relationship drama. Besides, this was nuts. A woman offering him a cooking show because of a kiss.

  He glanced up as Mercy Bea set two jars of iced tea and a basket of Bubba’s buttery biscuits on the table. “Listen, Allison, I’m a trained chef. Can you hire me because I’m technically qualified?” Luke lifted his tea for a small, cooling sip. Without breaking into full-on prayer, he tried to discern the moment, sense what God might be saying.

  “If you weren’t a skilled chef, Luke, I wouldn’t be sitting here. If you were just a dynamic kisser, I wouldn’t be sitting here. It’s the combination of your skill and chemistry with Joy that brings me to the table.” She raised her tea glass. “Luke, I don’t need a chef for the show. I have Joy. She’s my star. My talent. But what I need is spark, magic, the wow factor. That’s where you come in.”

  “How do you know we won’t go the other way? Hate each other. From a kiss to a punch in the nose.”

  “As long as it’s passionate, I don’t care. Wow me. Wow the viewers.” Allison turned over the paper she held in her hand and set it on the table. “You’re Luke Earl Redmond, named after your grandfather, Earl Redmond. Your parents are Earl ‘Red’ Redmond, Jr., and Ami Redmond. You call your dad Red, as a matter of fact.”

  “Where’d you get all of this?”

  “I have people.” Allison watered her words with a drink of tea. “You’re a chef from Manhattan by way of an Oklahoma ranch. Midwest meets big city meets the South. Your mother died when you were sixteen and you ended up dropping out of high school your senior year. Got your start in Manhattan’s Hell’s Kitchen district. A few years later you enrolled in the Culinary Institute of America. While attending there, you passed your GED. You opened Ami’s just before your thirtieth birthday but filed for bankruptcy last year. Moved to the lowcountry this past January. Lived with your cousin, author Heath McCord, for a few weeks but now live on the third floor in the downtown historic district.” She sat back when she finished, a look of pomp on her face. She’d recited his bio from memory.

  “Well now, I’m a bit embarrassed.” Luke angled over the table. “I didn’t have time to dig up any dirt on you.”

  “There’s not much to dig up. A couple of ex-boyfriends, but you’ll never find where they’re buried. Been in show business for twenty-five years. I don’t own any pets or plants because I don’t have the time or the patience to care for them. This business is my life and this show, Dining with Joy, is my baby, the one that will take care of me when I’m old and gray, sitting by the river watching the sunset.”

  “Something tells me you’re never going to be old or gray, or sitting by the river watching sunsets.”

  Allison exhaled a laugh. “Look, you know me already.”

  “What does Joy say about all of this?”

  “I needed to talk to you first.” Allison retrieved a manila envelope from the attaché. “First-year contract with an option for three more.” She slid the envelope toward him. “If you don’t like it after one season, you can walk. No strings.”

  “What makes you think I want to do television?”

  “Two years ago you made it to the final round on The Next Culinary Star. You were let go after a particularly grueling competition. Want to keep challenging me?”

  “Allison, Allison.” It was Luke’s turn to laugh. She was so intense and . . . in his face. “Then you know I got cut from the show because the judges didn’t see ‘star’ in my future. I could cook but lacked the ‘critical charisma’ to hold an audience.”

  “But when you were on the Food Network, you weren’t paired with Joy Ballard.” Allison arched over the table. “Joy’s a fine cook, but her sweet spot is entertainment. You will be my foodie ace in the hole. Dining with Joy is moving to a major network, and I’m going to bring my A game. You’ll placate the snobby purist. Joy will continue to woo the everyday cook, the kitchen noodler, the busy mom
who doesn’t have time to make”—she swirled her hand in the air, thinking—“. . . jellied onions for a grilled-out peppercorn hamburger. You trained at the Culinary Institute of America, the perfect juxtaposition to Joy’s down-home style cooking and church potluck recipes. And if she should kiss you again, or you kiss her—”

  “The ratings go through the roof.” Luke opened the envelope and removed a contract, flipping through the pages. Did he want to do television? It was more hazardous than opening a restaurant. He paused as he read the numbers on page three. “You’re kidding.”

  “Salary plus bonus. Also, I’m talking to a publisher about a cookbook. I’d like you and Joy to write one together this year. Perhaps next year, your own cookbook.”

  Luke exhaled. The color of opportunity changed the way he saw things. He’d be able to repay Red and his friend Linus, who both tried to help him sustain Ami’s with unsecured monies. When he filed for bankruptcy, they were left out.

  Allison started to speak, then pinched her lips together, smoothing her hand over the table, her eyes on Luke. “What do you say?”

  “I’ll think about it.” He’d learned from Ami’s that the “fire, ready, aim” process didn’t really work all that well. And he didn’t have anything discernable on what God wanted for him.

  “In the meantime”—Allison slid out of the booth and flipped Luke her card—“go watch the YouTube clip. See if that doesn’t entice you. If you’re the man I think you are, you’ll do the show. I’ll be expecting your call.”

  “A cohost? Why? This is the Dining with Joy show, Allison. Not Joy and Friends or Joy and Luke.” Joy paced the small space between her desk and the credenza. “What happened to not making any changes to the show?”

  “I wasn’t until you kissed Luke.”

  “A kiss? You’re gambling our brand, our success, on this wild idea of a cohost based on a kiss?”

  “Have you seen YouTube? We’re at nearly half a million hits in three days. It’s been picked up by E! and TruReality is already running it as a teaser for the show.”

  Joy folded herself into her chair. “So you want to marry me and the show to Luke.” This didn’t make sense.

  “You sound more panicked than my ex when I told him I might like to get married someday.” A mixture of amusement and determination threaded Allison’s tone. “I offered Luke a one-year option. If it doesn’t work, he’s out.” Allison rose from her chair and paced toward the window. “I didn’t say anything, Joy, but TruReality demands I take a good concept and push it to greatness, then toward the spectacular, and finally to the sublime ridiculous. The formula is their hallmark. It worked for them and it will work for us.”

  “Fine. I love it. But we can do all of that without a cohost. Without Luke. What is he going to do? I do the comedy and cooking. Sharon develops the recipes, does the show prep. I won’t let you replace her for Luke.”

  “Sharon will be more critical than ever because we’ll have two very different cooks presenting food. Luke will work with Sharon to bring his culinary point of view. You’ll work with her to enhance yours. It’s a win-win.”

  Wait, wait, wait. A crazy notion nudged Joy’s thoughts. Hello, my way out, where have you been? “You know, Allison, we could really play to my strengths and Luke’s, if he joins the show. Let me do all the comedy and Luke do all the cooking.”

  “No. You’re still the star, Joy.” Allison pointed at Joy, jabbing the air with her finger. “You’re our golden girl. I’m not replacing you with Luke, so don’t worry.”

  “Worry? Me?” Sigh. Joy rocked back in her chair. “Never.” But really, she should just flat out tell Allison there wouldn’t be any more kissing. In the quiet moments, Joy shuddered at the memory of kissing Luke, so brash and brazen. What must he think of her? “Listen, Allison—”

  Allison’s ringing phone broke up the conversation. “Hold that thought, Joy, it’s Dan, vice president of programming.” She raised the phone to her ear. “He’s calling to see if we have Luke. Dan, good morning.” Allison tipped her head to the side, her gaze drawing out Joy’s assent.

  “It’s your show.” From the moment Allison presented the plan of bringing on Luke, Joy understood the conversation was merely a courtesy. In the end, Allison would do what she wanted to do.

  “Dan, we’re good to go. Luke’s agreed.”

  The door clicked behind Allison, and Joy stood by the window. Tourists strolled leisurely along Bay Street. One of Alfred’s Carolina Carriages rolled past with the clip-clop of the horses’ shoes against the pavement.

  Joy deliberated most of the weekend on how she’d let her guard down so easy, in such a public fashion, exposing her heart, leaving herself vulnerable.

  The passion between them surprised her, leaving her breathless and dazed. She didn’t realize everyone else noticed.

  Panic fired up her heart. Luke would find out. How could she hide her secret from him? His presence would change everything.

  This morning she’d wondered if and when she might see him again. Debated if casually dropping by the café looked too obvious. Now she fretted over how to prevent Luke from discovering her secret: that the Dining with Joy host can’t cook.

  Eight

  A thick crowd lined the elongated brick sports bar of Luther’s Rare and Well-Done. As Luke worked his way toward the back table, he could just see the crown of Heath’s head.

  In the front corner, hometown boy and country superstar Mitch O’Neal set up for a nine o’clock show. Luke tried to refuse tonight’s invitation from cousin Heath to go out with him and Elle, and Mitch and his wife, Caroline.

  Spending an evening with two happily married couples with Luke as the fifth wheel had “pitiful” written all over it.

  But Mitch would pack the house, and Luke planned to blend in. Meanwhile, he’d sip a Coke, people watch, and try not to feel like a fish out of water. The kitchen was the only place he felt comfortable.

  Being the new cohost of Dining with Joy hadn’t settled in yet.

  “Luke, how does it feel to be Beaufort’s newest celebrity?” Elle’s bracelets slid down her arm with a gentle ting. “Aren’t you just, like, awed by the door God opened for you?”

  “Awed. Surprised. Hoping it’s a door He really opened.” Luke motioned to the waitress for a Coke.

  “How can you doubt, Luke?” Elle’s question didn’t inquire but challenged. “Allison came to you. You prayed for God’s will.”

  Luke wished he had Elle’s holy confidence. “All I can do is have faith, right?”

  The house lights dimmed and Luke pressed against the wall beside Elle. Up front, a spotlight fell on Mitch.

  “Hey, Luther’s Rare and Well-Done.” Mitch strummed softly.

  “It’s good to be home.”

  The room stilled under the melody of Mitch’s guitar. The only distinct sounds were the clinking of glasses. Luke set his empty glass on the table and was settling in to hear Mitch when a slender redhead sliced through the spotlight.

  “Joy Ballard, it’s about time you showed up.” Mitch played a short, driving riff. “Give it up for the host of Dining with Joy. And a good friend of mine and my wife’s. Joy’s new cohost is also here tonight, Luke Redmond.”

  The Luther’s crowd complied and cheered halfheartedly. Yeah, who the heck was Luke Redmond?

  Joy breached their little group, breathless, flushed, her hair loose about her shoulders. She wore a pale blue sundress that danced with the color of her eyes. Luke watched her until she looked at him. Then his heart retreated inside.

  “How’re you?”

  “Good. You?” Ah, so much for the smash-bang chemistry Allison loved. Luke had seen Joy once since Allison paired them for the show. The meeting passed smoothly with little or no tension. Luke had gone in with a single game plan. Play it cool. The egomaniac chef part never served him well.

  “Good. Keeping busy.” She glanced over her shoulder when the waitress paused to take her order. “I write the bits for the show. Now th
at you’re in the mix, I have a feeling Allison is going to run me ragged this season.”

  Still singular. Me. It’d take time. It’d take time. “Yeah, she seems like a tiger on the hunt.”

  “I have a lot of ideas for her too.”

  Luke laughed. “Am I going to regret this?”

  “Maybe.” Joy eyed Luke under the waitress’s arm as she tried to meet him halfway with his drink. Her tray bobbled. Luke grabbed his glass and steadied the tray.

  “If I spilled another one, I think they’d fire me.” She smiled a sad smile.

  “Hang in there. It takes time.” Luke lightly touched her shoulder. “You’ll get it.”

  Luke caught Joy’s eye. She was watching him. And he felt his heart sink a little deeper. As he transitioned onto the show, the last thing Luke needed was the complication of falling for Joy.

  From the small corner stage, Mitch started another song, the rhythm of his guitar and the smoky texture of his voice pushing Luke to a peaceful, melancholy place.

  At the end of the day

  it’s about loving you

  like the rain on the meadow

  with sweet drops of dew

  A group of marines pushed through the crowd toward the deck doors, shoving Joy against Luke. He peered at her, nodding his head toward the doors.

  “Wanna go for a walk?”

  She set her glass on the table and whispered something to Elle, then opened the double doors and stepped onto the deck.

  Out on the deck, the air seemed so still. The river so quiet. The melody of Mitch’s next song pressed through the glass.

  “Seems like the whole riverwalk is listening to Mitch.” Joy inhaled, lifting her face to the array of stars settled deep in the dark sky.

  “Do you want to go back inside?” Luke jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “If you want to listen—”

  “The night air feels good.” Her focus remained on the stars, but after a moment, she looked at Luke. “I’m not thrilled about you joining the show. But I won’t interfere, won’t make it hard for you or any of the crew.”