The C.E.O. & the Cookie Queen

by Victoria Chancellor

  Mrs. Jacks returned with his tea. “What can I get you?”

  “I suppose another chance to talk to Carole is out of the question.”

  “And definitely not on the menu. That’s not something I can give you, Greg. You’ll have to find your own way to talk to her.”

  “She made herself pretty clear. She doesn’t trust me and she doesn’t want to talk to me again.”

  “Maybe that’s because you keep asking her the same question.”

  “I only did what I thought was best for both her and my company.”

  “Seems kind of convenient that your solution is the best thing for both of you, doesn’t it?” she said, placing a hand on her hip and giving him a hard, assessing look. “Now, what would you like to eat?”

  In honor of his last day in Texas, he ordered the unofficial state meal: chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, Texas toast and a salad with ranch dressing. He doubted he’d be able to eat much since his appetite had deserted him, replaced by an empty gnawing hunger for his beautiful blond cowgirl.

  He’d nearly finished when Thelma, Joyce and Ambrose stopped by his table.

  “That was a nice thing to do, giving Puff back to Jennifer with an unlimited supply of food,” Joyce said. At Greg’s raised eyebrow, she continued. “My nephew Lester told me what you’d done. I’m sure Jennifer is going to be thrilled.”

  “I’m not sure if Carole appreciates the gesture,” Greg said, pushing his plate away. He smiled when he remembered his second—or was it his third?—argument with Carole on the first day they’d met. He’d told her he wanted to give the steer back to Jennifer and she’d told him she didn’t want him back.

  Puff wasn’t the only thing she didn’t want from him. She didn’t want his job offer, his advice, his insights on her parenting or even his…affection. She didn’t trust him. She didn’t believe him when he swore their brief affair had nothing to do with his desire to convince her to be Huntington’s spokesperson.

  “Carole can be a little stubborn,” Thelma said.

  “Ever since that unfortunate incident when she was a teenager,” Joyce added.

  “Now, honey, don’t start telling tales.”

  Greg ignored the older man, hoping the ladies would keep talking. “I know about her running off and getting married. I even know that the boy she ran off with is now a successful country-western singer. I just still don’t understand why people call it an ‘unfortunate incident.”’

  “Oh, it was just terrible for her. I suppose I can explain since you already know the rest. You see, a film crew did a documentary on the band her husband was in, back before he went solo and got famous. It showed them partying with groupies, taking some drugs and acting like complete idiots. He and Carole had only been married a few weeks and she was just mortified.”

  “I can only imagine.” Had Carole been averse to publicity back then, or had the experience caused her to hate being in the spotlight?

  “Fortunately, Charlene saw the documentary as soon as it aired. Poor Carole was too embarrassed to tell her mother what had happened or even where she was. Charlene jumped in the family station wagon and drove to Nashville, since that’s where the band was. She brought Carole back here to Rangers Springs and she’s been here ever since.”

  Greg nodded. “So the whole fiasco—Carole running off to get married, the jerk of a husband, the documentary—that was all part of this unfortunate incident.”

  “That’s right,” Ambrose said. “Everyone makes mistakes. Carole has grown up to be a fine young woman and a great mother.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “She’d make some man a fine wife,” Joyce said wistfully.

  Greg was saved from a reply when Charlene Jacks returned to bus the table and present his check. “Anything else?” she asked, looking pointedly from friend to friend.

  “No, I think I have everything I came here for.”

  “I hope you can come back and see us,” Thelma said. “I never did get that in-depth interview.”

  Greg attempted a smile, even though his mind was already skipping ahead. Coming back? He couldn’t imagine why at the moment, not when Carole wouldn’t talk to him, even to say goodbye. “Maybe later.”

  Joyce, Thelma and Ambrose wandered off, stopping to talk to Hank McCauley and his wife Gwendolyn, along with Travis Whittaker, who’d just come through the door. Would Carole eventually find a husband in her single neighbor? He seemed to be a nice guy, and Greg assumed women found his blond hair and athletic body attractive.

  “I want you to think about what I said,” Mrs. Jacks said, bringing his attention back to the table. “About what you really want. Personally, I think you’ve convinced yourself that what’s best for Huntington is also best for Carole. But maybe I’m wrong. And that’s all I’m going to say on the subject.”

  She stacked the dishes and started to leave, then turned back to face him. “Except for one more thing. My daughter deserves someone who appreciates her for who she is now. At the same time, it doesn’t hurt to give Carole a nudge now and then. It would take a hell of a man to do both.”

  Greg nodded his agreement. It would take a hell of a man. Unfortunately, he was first and foremost a C.E.O.

  CAROLE INSISTED Jenny take a nap, even though her daughter claimed to be way past the age where sleeping in the afternoon was necessary. Still, she yawned her way to the bedroom and allowed her mother to tuck her in.

  Carole walked slowly into the living room, then curled on the couch, staring at the phone. She’d done a lot of thinking while doing laundry. Washing and drying clothes was almost as therapeutic as baking cookies.

  Jenny had said something that disturbed her, mainly because Greg had told her the same thing.

  Why wouldn’t she want to be famous?

  She tried really hard to forget her previous disastrous experience with a little bit of fame. If she’d never run away with Johnny Ray, if he hadn’t been such a jerk, if the filmmakers hadn’t made that documentary for television…if, if, if. She had a lot to forget.

  But…if she had graduated from high school with her class, lived happily in the bosom of her family, maybe gone to college like Kerry or married somebody nice like Hank, she would have loved to become famous.

  She closed her eyes and visualized her smiling image on a package of Ms. Carole’s cookies. Maybe not a photo, but a drawn image. Not a caricature, but more like a line drawing or a simple sketch. Her image on dozens of packages of cookies on grocery shelves around the country.

  Then she saw herself sitting in a chair, smiling into a camera, a display of her cookies on the low table in front of herself and the host. Or hostess. Yes, a woman. One whose stylish suit matched her own designer clothing. Perhaps a simple sheath with one nice piece of jewelry, like a pin. Something that said, “This woman has class.” She would cross her legs—she’d be wearing really nice hosiery—and show her pointed-toe pumps. Her legs would look great, without any shaving nicks or bruises.

  Greg running his hand up her leg, beneath the hem of that stylish sheath.

  Her eyes snapped open. So much for visualization. She wasn’t supposed to be thinking about him, but rather finding who she would have been without her mistakes. And from what she’d imagined, she supposed she would have enjoyed being famous.

  But still, she had Jenny to consider. Despite the fact her daughter thought it would be “neat” to have a celebrity mother, Carole knew there were drawbacks neither of them could imagine. And what she could imagine frightened her.

  She would love the nice conversation and interviews, but what about criticism? She’d never been good at disapproval. What if people really didn’t like her?

  What did she do now if people didn’t like her? She frowned as she tried to think of someone who had been rude or critical, but she couldn’t think of anyone in the past several years. Perhaps not since she’d been an adult. She wanted to say that was because she didn’t meet new people, but that wasn’t true. She gave sele
cted baking demonstrations in Austin and San Antonio, talking to all types of people at some of the exclusive housewares stores. She shopped and did just about everything any other normal mother did. And everyone was polite, most of them nice.

  What if the media people were nice, too? What if she was just using her fear of infamy as an excuse to stay nice and safe, never stretching her wings, never taking another chance?

  She placed a hand on her stomach as her nerves zinged and her mind raced. Had she really been running that scared? Was Greg right about her fears? She leaned back against the couch, trying to think through all the perceptions these revelations might shatter.

  And most of all, what if Johnny Ray still didn’t want to be a father and didn’t do one darned thing if the public found out he’d briefly been married to the cookie queen of Ranger Springs?

  Before she lost her nerve to face these what-ifs, she picked up the phone and called her sister Kerry’s private number in Belegovia. Their mother was right; if anyone could tell her what it was like to face public criticism and adoration, Princess Kerry, the former truck-stop waitress who’d run off with a prince, was the one.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Greg packed up the last of his clothes, tugging the zipper closed over his Western shirts, jeans and blister-producing boots. He’d been tempted to leave the clothes behind, but he’d gotten rather attached to them.

  He might not be leaving his physical belongings in Texas, but he felt as though he was leaving his heart. Or what heart he had. He supposed most of his feelings were tied up with Huntington Foods, but what he had left, he’d given to Carole, Jenny and a twelve-hundred-pound steer.

  He slung the bag over his shoulder and headed for the door. The plane should be landing right about now. In a few hours he’d be back in Chicago, preparing for the board meeting on Monday. Except, he had too much time. An entire day to kill, with nothing to think about but how he’d screwed up his relationship with Carole.

  The phone rang, stopping him halfway out the door. His pulse began to race. Not many people would know to call him at the house. His business associates and family would use the cell.

  He dropped the bag and reached for the wall phone. “Hello?”

  Only a faint sound of breathing greeted him. Then the voice he’d longed to hear again. “Greg?”

  “Carole.” He breathed her name with a sigh of relief. “I wanted to call you, but I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me.”

  “I didn’t call to chat.”

  “No, of course not. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  And her tone of voice said that she wanted to keep this conversation light. Calling must have been difficult for her. After all, he didn’t have the guts to dial her number.

  “I’m glad you called,” he finally said.

  She sighed. “I was afraid you might have already gone back to Chicago.”

  “I was just on my way to the airport,” he said, then added quickly, “but I’m not in any hurry. The plane will wait.”

  “I…I’ve been thinking about what you offered.”

  Greg pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down before his legs failed him. “Offered?”

  “About the spokesperson position.”

  “Oh.” Why did he feel let down when this is what he’d wanted all along? What he’d come to Texas to accomplish? “Of course. You’ve perhaps changed your mind?”

  “Maybe you had a point when you said I was scared. I got to thinking, after I talked to Jenny, that maybe I was focusing too much on the negative and not letting myself go after something that might be good for all of us.”

  “We’d certainly like to make it worth your while,” he said, slipping into his business mode with more difficulty than usual. “And I promise we’ll do everything we can to ensure those negatives possibilities don’t become reality.”

  “I talked to my sister. She said no one can plan for all possibilities.”

  “No, but we have many resources, many people, who can think about different scenarios. We also have a legal department than can help with those problems.” Greg paused, then asked, “Did you sister have any good things to say?”

  He almost heard Carole smile. “She said the clothes and shoes alone were almost worth the trouble.”

  Greg chuckled, then fell silent, unsure what to say next. He didn’t want to pressure Carole. And she remained silent for so long he almost made some inane comment.

  But then she asked, “So, what do we do now?”

  “I don’t suppose you want to go back to Chicago with me on the jet.”

  “No, I have a napping daughter who just got back from camp,” she said with enough exasperation to let him know he’d asked the wrong question. “I’m not going to completely change my life. I’m not going to sacrifice my daughter’s life for financial gain and celebrity status, but I’m willing to compromise on the details of scheduling appearances and making commercials.”

  “I understand.” He paused, twisting the phone cord. “What about us?”

  “All I’m talking about is the spokesperson job. I’m not prepared for anything else. I can’t handle anything else, not when I can’t completely trust you, Greg. I can’t be sure you didn’t use our relationship to influence me.”

  “I didn’t, although there’s no way to prove it.”

  “Perhaps it’s best this way. We rushed into a…an affair based on strong chemistry. That’s not a good basis for anything beyond a short fling.”

  At least she didn’t say she wasn’t interested. Or that she wouldn’t consider a personal relationship. So maybe there was some hope, if he handled this correctly. Carefully. “When can you come to Chicago? I’ll set up appointments with our public relations department and a stylist who’ll help you prepare for some sample tapings.”

  “This is happening so fast.”

  “We need you Carole.” I need you, he wanted to say, but knew his company came first, for him and, at the moment, for her. He sure didn’t want to scare her off by confusing the issue. She had to know that Huntington was a separate deal from anything he might have to offer. Not that he was offering. They’d both known their personal relationship was temporary.

  “I could probably get my sister Cheryl and my mother to watch Jenny next week.”

  “I’d say bring her with you, but you’ll be really busy. Booked pretty heavy.” Too busy to have time for him, that’s for sure. He’d make sure of that.

  “I’d rather keep her away from this for as long as possible. Besides, she’s starting school on Wednesday.”

  “Whatever you’d like. Of course, I’d always enjoy having her visit Huntington.”

  “Yes, Huntington. Of course. Well, I’ll tell her. She…she asked about you. She wanted to say goodbye.”

  He dropped the twisted cord and leaned forward between his bent knees. “Did she have a good time at camp?”

  “Yes,” Carole answered with a smile in her voice, “if you consider snakes, swimming and friends overdosing on cupcakes fun.”

  Greg smiled, thinking about Jennifer giving a blow-by-blow of camp life. “Tell her I said hello, and that I’ll see her again as soon as possible. And remind her to take good care of my steer.”

  “I’ll tell her.”

  Greg paused, tempted to drop the phone, drive to Carole’s house, and take her into his arms. He took a deep breath. “So, how about Tuesday? I’ll send the jet.”

  Her nervous laugh answered him. “Okay. Tuesday, then. And how long should I plan to be in Chicago?”

  “Can you give me four days?” He closed his eyes. What a stupid way to phrase the question. He should have said us. He should have asked if she could stay in Chicago four days.

  “Three.”

  “Done. I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

  She hung up the phone as soon as he said goodbye. Greg sat in the kitchen of his rented house and wondered just how much his life would be changing in the next weeks or months. How could he work with Car
ole and not remember the taste of her skin or the feel of her lips, moving against his?

  He couldn’t. He’d have to keep a firm grip on his emotions, because he would not let his feelings frighten away the perfect spokesperson for his company.

  DURING THE NEXT TWO WEEKS Carole flew to Chicago three times, each visit a whirlwind of appointments, meetings and rehearsals. She’d declined extra highlights in her hair, although she’d gotten a good trim at an overpriced salon. She had a new professional wardrobe, tailored to her exact measurements, and had finally gotten accustomed to her new manicure, pedicure and makeup.

  Kerry was right; the new clothes and shoes were almost worth the inconvenience of becoming famous. Not that the cookie queen of Ranger Springs would ever be as popular as a real princess of a foreign country.

  When she looked into the mirror, she was the same, yet different. She was Carole Jacks, but also Ms. Carole. She was still Jennifer’s mother, but also a professional woman whose image would, hopefully, become recognizable to thousands, if not millions, of consumers.

  Greg often looked at her with unreadable eyes. Sometimes she felt as though he was trying very hard not to react to her new appearance, but that was probably wishful thinking. Not that she wanted to continue their affair, but she would like to know that he was suffering just a little. That he felt almost as frustrated and sad as she sometimes did when she remembered their days together back in Texas.

  But she couldn’t think about that now. She had to concentrate on the commercial they were taping at the studio not too far from Huntington’s offices in downtown Chicago. She’d tried not to think of Greg often, especially at night, alone in her hotel room. She longed for her mother, her sisters and her daughter. But they were far away, and Greg was nearby. And, Lord help her, she still wanted him.

  She apparently hadn’t learned her lessons regarding men. She had lousy taste. She made bad choices. Hopefully, she’d keep that in mind whenever she felt tempted to let her emotions rule her body.