At the Heart of It

by Tawna Fenske

  “There’s whipped cream.”

  “Okay.”

  Amy tucked a blond curl behind her hair and gave Kate a knowing look, but she didn’t say anything else. Not for a moment, anyway. Then her eyes darted to something just over Kate’s shoulder, and her expression shifted to a smirk.

  “Hey, Jonah!” Amy called, and Kate’s heart started to gallop.

  She kept her eyes on Amy, reminding herself not to react, not to smile or flush or hold eye contact for too long. Turning slowly, she took in the faint stubble on his chin, the wind-tousled look of his hair, the weathered-looking chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Jesus, the man had beautiful forearms. Kate licked her lips and commanded herself not to stare.

  “Amy.” His voice was a low rumble. “Kate.”

  Kate swallowed, glad he’d used that order for their names. She wiped her palms on her skirt, not sure why she felt queasy.

  “Good morning,” she said. “Looks like wardrobe got you all squared away.”

  “Wardrobe?” Jonah looked down at himself. “These are my clothes.”

  “Oh. Well, you certainly look the part.”

  He quirked an eyebrow at her. “I look the part of myself?”

  “Um—”

  “You look authentic,” Amy declared, and Kate said a silent prayer of thanks.

  Jonah looked from Kate to Amy, then back to Kate again. “So how’d you like that beer last night?” he asked.

  All the blood drained from Kate’s face. She could feel Amy’s eyes on her, and she looked over to see the assistant producer’s brows rise.

  “I texted him a photo of a pumpkin beer I found at that little shop around the corner from the hotel,” Kate said. “I thought he might like it.”

  Amy’s eyebrows strove valiantly for her hairline. “I didn’t know you even liked beer.”

  “I’m learning,” she said, ordering herself not to make a big deal out of this. She turned back to Jonah, focusing all her energy on looking professional, but courteous. “The beer was kind of intense,” she said. “I couldn’t drink very much of it, but I liked what I tried.”

  “It’s an imperial, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “They’re usually really big, bold beers,” Jonah said. “Much higher alcohol content, too. Sometimes up to twelve or thirteen ABV.”

  “No wonder I felt a little loopy,” she said, hoping that explained why she’d been bold enough to send that photo. Maybe he’d buy that.

  “If I remember right, 10 Barrel has another pumpkin beer that’s a little less intense,” he said. “I sampled it a few years ago when Viv and I were down there doing the Bend Ale Trail.”

  The thought of Jonah and Vivienne on a romantic autumn retreat in Bend, Oregon, was enough to splash cold water on Kate’s libido.

  This is why we’re here, dammit. The two people who were married to each other, who wrote a bestselling relationship guide together and traveled and made love and—

  “God, I’d almost forgotten about that trip,” Jonah muttered, almost to himself. “Viv hated it. We were out there for some film festival, but I talked her into the beer tour for a couple hours. You would have thought I’d asked her to drink from the toilet.”

  Kate rearranged the mental picture she’d formed moments before, hating herself for liking this version better. The version where Viv was stuck-up and surly and closed off to new experiences.

  “That’s too bad,” she said carefully, gripping the paper mug a little tighter. “We should probably get down to the parlor. The crew’s going to start getting restless if at least a couple of us aren’t down there.”

  “Should we nudge Elena again?” Amy asked.

  Kate glanced at her watch. “Let’s give them a couple more minutes. Ginger gets touchy if we try to rush her.”

  She turned and led the way down the hall, then into the well-lit parlor. The room was packed with camera equipment and lights, but the film crew had all dispersed. Only Viv sat there looking serene and centered, in a chic red kimono top and black silk slacks. She looked up as the three of them entered and smiled broadly.

  “Hello, everyone,” she said. “Are you all as excited as I am to get started?”

  “So excited,” Jonah muttered under his breath.

  Kate resisted the urge to laugh, especially when she saw twin frown lines appear between Viv’s brows. Having them both a little edgy was fine, but Kate hoped they wouldn’t get too riled up before the cameras started rolling.

  Skirting around Jonah, Kate moved into the center of the room and glanced at the antique clock on the wall. She set the cup of cocoa on a coaster and turned back to face the group. “Vivienne, Jonah—we’ve probably got another ten minutes until Elena is out of hair and makeup. Why don’t you two warm up by doing one of the communication exercises you talked about in On the Other Hand?”

  “Oh, that’s a great idea!” Amy beamed. “How about the Five Things exercise? That seems like the perfect way to get the two of you on the same page.”

  Jonah looked at Kate as though she’d just suggested they take off their clothes and paint their bodies with ketchup and mustard. Vivienne, on the other hand, looked delighted.

  “That is an excellent idea. How about something like five things we admire about each other or five ways we’ve been inspired by one another?”

  Jonah’s expression grew pinched, and Kate wondered if she should have kept her mouth shut. Then again, it was important to have them ready for filming. To make sure the two stars of the show were on the same page, more or less.

  “Maybe something a little more neutral,” Jonah suggested. “Five favorite uses for duct tape?”

  Viv smiled, though it looked a little strained. “That’s a perfect example of the first one I was going to share,” she said. “I admire the fact that Joe is already getting into character as the charmingly surly ex-husband with the dry sense of humor. That’s such a critical part of this process, and I admire him for committing to the role.”

  Kate caught the subtlety of the backhanded compliment, and she wondered if Jonah had, too. Did poring over every word Vivienne Brandt had ever written make Kate the leading expert on Viv’s communication style, or did sleeping with her for five years earn Jonah that title?

  The thought of Jonah sleeping with Viv made Kate’s stomach clench, but she made damn sure her face didn’t show it.

  “Did you know you can make wallets out of duct tape?” Jonah asked.

  That earned him an eye roll from Amy and a slight waver in Viv’s smile. With a sigh, he slid his hands down the thighs of his jeans. “Okay, fine,” he said. “I admire Viv for her perseverance. She always talked about wanting to do a TV show someday, so I’m glad she made that happen.”

  Interesting, Kate thought, remembering her first conversation with Vivienne Brandt, when Viv had made it sound like she’d never considered the possibility of TV. Was that false modesty, or something else?

  A flash of discomfort in Viv’s eyes suggested she wasn’t thrilled at being outed, and Kate wondered if Jonah had done it on purpose.

  “My turn,” Viv announced. “I admire that Jonah adopted a cat from the shelter.” She smiled, and Kate thought she might stop there with a seemingly sincere compliment, but Viv kept talking. “Rescuing a homeless animal is such a noble thing. And having the self-awareness to choose a pet in sync with one’s own personality is such a bonus. Cats are cool and aloof and detached and—”

  “I admire Viv for finding a way to be catty while complimenting my cat,” Jonah interrupted. “If that’s not a made-for-TV moment, I don’t know what is.”

  Viv’s eyes flashed. “Well, I admire Jonah for finding a way to interject negativity into an exercise designed to reflect the positive. That takes some real creativity!”

  “Okay!” Kate said, clapping her hands together and glancing down the hall. Where the hell were Sam and Elena? “Jonah? Did you want to go?”

  “God, y
es.” He started to stand up, then stopped. “Wait, is that not what you meant?”

  Amy snorted, while Vivienne gave an exasperated sigh. “Honestly, Joe—”

  “I admire Vivienne for her outstanding memory,” he interrupted. “I’ve only told her a handful of times that I fucking hate being called Joe, but she committed that to memory so she could make an extra-stellar effort to use that name when she’s trying to rile me up.”

  Viv folded her arms over her chest and looked at Kate. “Is this what you had in mind for the exercise?”

  “Not really,” she admitted.

  “Um, good job, guys,” Amy offered with a nervous glance at Kate. “Way to tap into that sense of conflict. That’s really going to shine through once the cameras are rolling.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Jonah muttered, throwing a look of resignation at the unmanned camera.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Filming with Viv and Jonah wrapped up early at three. Combined with the B-roll they’d shot over the course of the last week, they were off to a solid start. Their first sit-down with Viv and Jonah had just enough edge to give the production team some juicy sound bites for promotion.

  Sam and Elena—the couple they’d chosen for the pilot episode—came off as sincere, sweet, troubled, and just a little bit weird, which was the perfect combination for television. Sam had complained about Elena spending thousands on shoes, and Elena had countered with a jab about Sam’s taste for expensive cigars, but they’d held hands without prompting for most of the conversation. It was going well, all things considered.

  Mostly.

  She watched as Jonah hustled out the door, giving courtesy farewells to the crew while looking a bit like a man fleeing a house fire. Kate watched his car pull out of the driveway as she stood at the window coiling a cord for the cameraman.

  “Don’t you think so, Kate?”

  She turned to see Viv in the doorway looking thoughtful and serene. “What’s that?”

  Viv’s gaze flicked to the window where Jonah’s taillights were just fading around the corner. She watched them for a moment before directing her attention back to Kate. “I was just saying I think the patients are going to do really well with a little Imago Therapy and maybe some work on Compassionate Communication techniques.”

  “I agree,” she said. “I’m eager to see if they take the advice you gave them.”

  “Yes. Well, some people have a hard time taking criticism.”

  Viv turned and began rearranging a cluster of lilies in a red vase on the side table next to the door. Kate watched, wondering if Viv had something on her mind. Was she here seeking praise on her performance, or something else?

  It’s her house, for crying out loud. You’re looking for issues where there aren’t any.

  Kate cleared her throat. “I think you and Jonah did well,” she said. “We got some great footage of that fast-paced banter you had about whether Sam and Elena should try sleeping in separate bedrooms.”

  “Yes, that was a healthy little bit of conflict, wasn’t it?”

  Kate nodded, not sure if they were talking about Sam and Elena or Viv and Jonah. Something about Viv’s posture told her it was the latter. “You play off each other nicely.”

  “We do, don’t we?” Viv’s looked up from the lilies and glanced out the window again, to the edge of the shrubs where Jonah’s car had disappeared moments before. “We always did work well together.”

  Kate swallowed hard and set the cable down on top of a chest filled with audio equipment. She grabbed another cord and began wrapping it around her arm, elbow to thumb, elbow to thumb, keeping her mind distracted. It was easier than fixating on the tight knot that had lodged in the center of her chest in the middle of filming when she’d watched Viv reach over and touch Jonah’s arm, lingering there with a tender familiarity. Or the moment near the end of the day when Jonah had caught Viv in his arms and held her there, smiling up at him, as they demonstrated the proper way to do trust falls.

  Kate set the coiled cord aside and took a few calming breaths. She used the method Viv had suggested in But Not Broken, in the dog-eared chapter on self-care. In for four seconds, hold for seven, out for eight.

  “There you are.”

  She looked up at the sound of Amy’s voice to see her assistant producer in the doorway. Amy glanced at Viv, then stepped past her to continue into the parlor. She wasn’t smiling, and she clutched her iPhone like the handle of a hatchet. Her eyes met Kate’s, and she gave a familiar eyebrow lift that signaled the start of every conversation that began with the unspoken words, You’re not going to like this.

  “I just got off a conference call with the guys from the network.” Amy stopped behind the black leather loveseat and rested her hands on the back of it like she was standing at a lectern. “They’re really enthusiastic about some of the early footage we’ve shared. I sent them the clip from today with the scene in the kitchen, and they were super pumped.”

  “But?” Kate prompted. She knew there was a but. She could tell from the twin lines between Amy’s brows and the way she kept glancing at Viv, like she wasn’t sure whether to have this conversation here or in private.

  Viv drifted into the center of the room, her flawless forehead creased with concern. “Is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine. Just a little unexpected twist.” Amy gave Viv a placating smile before returning her gaze to Kate. “You know how we’re set up to do this as a self-contained show?”

  “What’s a self-contained show?” Viv asked. She glanced from Amy to Kate. Seeming to sense this conversation could take a while, she folded herself into the same orange leather chair Jonah had picked the first time they’d all assembled here.

  Kate rested her hand on the pile of coiled cables and stayed standing. “Every episode stands on its own,” she explained. “They can be played in any order, and it’s easy for viewers to jump in at any time.”

  “Shows like Intervention and Deadliest Catch and Undercover Boss and House Hunters are good examples,” Amy added. “Those are all self-contained programs.”

  “Also referred to as closed-ended shows,” Kate added. “Networks love them because they can get a lot of mileage out of reruns no matter what order they show the episodes.”

  “Right, right—of course.” Viv tucked her legs beneath her, looking elegant and serene like an origami swan. “I’m familiar with the concept. I just wasn’t familiar with the term.”

  Kate glanced at Amy, trying to get a read on her. She could guess where this conversation was headed, but part of her hoped she was wrong. “The opposite of a closed-ended show in unscripted television is an arced show,” Kate continued for Viv’s benefit. “That’s where there’s a story arc that continues through the whole season. You can’t watch them out of order, or they won’t make sense.”

  “Right.” Amy met Kate’s eyes and nodded once, almost imperceptibly. “Shows like The Bachelor or Survivor are examples of arced programming,” she continued. “Viewers need to start at the beginning to really feel invested in the story.”

  “Okay.” Vivienne glanced warily between them. “And we all agreed that our show would do best as a self-contained program.” She looked at Amy again. “Right?”

  “We did.” Amy took a deep breath. “But Empire TV’s executive director is asking for a small tweak.”

  “Chase Whitfield.” Kate uttered the name like a curse, then glanced at Viv. “He’s a brilliant director, but he can be—challenging, sometimes.”

  Viv gave a small smile. “I suppose that’s true for most of us.”

  Kate looked back at Amy, wondering if Chase got a sadistic pleasure out of making them jump through hoops. Plenty of directors worked like that, not happy unless they made sweeping changes to someone else’s concept.

  “A small tweak,” Kate repeated. “How small are we talking?”

  Amy tucked a wayward curl behind one ear. “They still want each episode to be self-contained as far as the couples
go. That’s not changing. Each couple will still have their story conclude—for better or worse—at the end of each episode.”

  “Thank goodness,” Viv said.

  “But they want to see some sort of arc laced into the bigger picture,” Amy continued.

  “But how?” Viv ran her palms down the arms of the chair like she was soothing a cat. “Are we inviting couples back for continued counseling?”

  “No,” Amy said. “They’d like the series arc connected to the show’s stars.”

  Kate watched Viv straighten a little at the word stars. It was a subtle shift, but Kate noticed and mentally applauded Amy’s word choice.

  “So they want an arc with Viv and Jonah,” Kate said slowly. “Did they have something in mind?”

  Amy held up her hands. “I know, I know. Don’t worry. The first thing I told them is what Jonah said about not pretending they’re still married. I made it clear that’s non-negotiable, and they seemed fine with that.”

  Kate nodded once and curled her fingers into her palms, letting her nails bite into the soft flesh. “So what then?”

  “They threw out a few ideas, but wanted us to brainstorm,” Amy said. “They’re thinking of something along the lines of Vivienne dealing with a crisis related to her new book and Jonah weighing whether to step in and help. Or exploring the mixed emotions between Viv and Jonah as one of them starts dating again. Those are just examples, though. They want us to come back to them with more ideas.”

  Viv went very still. Her hands stopped moving on the arms of the chair, and she looked from Kate to Amy and back again. “They didn’t specify what the arc needs to be?”

  “They left that up to us,” Amy said. “They want it to be organic to the show and to the characters.”

  “Personal stories sell well,” Kate said. “Since you and Jonah anchor the show, it makes sense to have this stem from what’s happening in real life for one or both of you.”

  Kate focused on breathing, on trying not to react to the notion of tying the show more closely to the relationship between Viv and Jonah. This was just business. Just a matter of giving the network what they wanted.