And He Cooks Too

by Barbara Barrett

  Nick shrugged. “Leonie’s convinced this is our big chance.” He didn’t sound convinced.

  “This is all for her?” The more she learned about Leonie McCutcheon’s self-indulgences, the more she wondered why Nick put up with them. He wasn’t a wimp who cowed at his aunt’s shadow. Why didn’t he stand up to her?

  “Could you get me a glass of water? And some of those pain pills on the table?”

  His not so subtle way of telling her that her concerns were giving him a headache? “Sure.” She poured water from a small pitcher and removed two tablets from one of the vials on his nightstand.

  He gulped them down, finished off the water. “Thanks.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a lower voice than she’d used thus far.

  His eyes widened. “For what? Caring?”

  “For barging in here, intimating you’ve lost your mind.” She felt a little more than ridiculous.

  “Sometimes it’s easier just to go along with her.”

  “Even when you know it could postpone your recovery?”

  “C’mon, Reese,” he replied owlishly. He flexed his arm muscles. “Look at me. I’m a strapping guy in the peak of physical health. Except for my wrist and ankle. My body can endure taping the show more than my brain can survive my aunt’s paranoia if we put it on hold.”

  She turned away from him so he wouldn’t see what she was sure must be the mixed message in her eyes. Yes, he definitely was “strapping,” and that “physical health” wasn’t so bad either. Her elevated pulse rate could attest to that. But at the same time, what a sad state of affairs. He seemed resigned to doing his aunt’s bidding. She didn’t want him to pick up on the pity her expression must be telegraphing.

  She shook her head, at a loss for further argument against this lunacy. She rose, leaned over him to fluff his pillow. At length, she noticed him watching her, a lopsided smile slashing his face. Embarrassed, she scuttled away from the bed, searched her brain for something else to talk about. “Do you need another blanket?”

  “No, thanks. I’m quite warm already. Hot, actually.” There was a raspiness in his voice that hadn’t been there earlier. His eyes had gone dark and murky. From the drugs?

  Her cheeks grew warm. “Is everything with you fodder for sexual innuendo?”

  He blinked innocently. “You’re the one who approached me.”

  “To make you more comfortable, you ingrate!” She let out an exasperated breath. “Sparring with you takes too much energy. Since I’m going to need all my reserves to help you through the next weeks, I’ll keep my distance now.” When she reached the door, she pivoted to say, “I’ll make myself at home in your living room until Jasper returns.”

  She fled the room without looking back or giving Nick a chance to respond. To her surprise, Jasper had already returned, and Dave Macklin had joined him, taking up residence in a black leather recliner in the living room.

  “That didn’t take long,” she commented to Jasper.

  “She refused to see me.”

  “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t realize she could be so, uh—”

  “Uncompromising?”

  “Uh, yes.”

  Dave glanced up from the cup of coffee he was drinking. “You catch on fast. It’s Reese, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right. And you’re Dave. Dave Macklin. Did Nick call you?” she asked, the memory of that kiss in front of him all too vivid.

  “Apparently Auntie gave his driver the day off, so Nick called me to take his place. Didn’t know I’d have to wait in line to visit.”

  Reese looked back over her shoulder toward Nick’s room. “He’s all yours.”

  “No success, then?” Jasper asked.

  Grimacing, she sank into the black and burgundy davenport next to the recliner where Dave lounged. “He’s still in considerable pain. He tried to hide it, but even rolling on his side is still a challenge. And he wasn’t totally surprised when I told him taping resumes Monday because Leonie had left him a note hinting at something like that.”

  Jasper straightened and joined her on the couch. “Thanks for coming. Now that Dave’s here, you don’t need to stay, if you have other things to do.”

  She wasn’t ready to leave until she learned a little more about Nick’s dysfunctional family situation. “What’s with this hold his aunt has on him?”

  The two men exchanged glances.

  “It’s like this,” Dave replied, answering for Jasper. “Nick never knew his father. Then he lost his grandparents in a car accident when he was two. And his mom was too young with too much money to take her responsibilities as a parent seriously, although I guess she tried for a few years. Leonie has been the one constant in his life. He can’t forget that.”

  “She was probably no better a parent than her sister,” Jasper added, “but Nick was just a kid. Very impressionable. And easily swayed by the least bit of attention she paid him.”

  Dave set his coffee mug on a small side table. “He sees right through her manipulations but remains loyal to her because she’s always been there for him. In her own self-absorbed, domineering way.”

  Sounded a little bit like the Auntie Mame story and the nephew’s tight bond with his guardian despite her bizarre lifestyle. But in the end, even he had gone off to lead his own life.

  Jasper expelled a heavy sigh, examined his nails. “Leonie believes if something’s good for her, it’s good for everyone else, whether they agree or not. She dreams of the show going network and she believes Nick can make that happen. When it does, if it does, maybe she’ll relax and get off Nick’s case.”

  “He mentioned something about them. Is that true? Is the network planning to snatch you up?”

  He smiled. “Snatch us up. I think it’s possible, but mainly if we get to use your talents as well as Nick’s.”

  “Mine?”

  Jasper shot her a quizzical look. “Well, yes. You’re a bona fide chef, Reese. We should take advantage of that.”

  Hadn’t it been just a few days ago that this same man had reminded her she was only a production assistant on the show, not a chef? Yet now he’d provided her with the perfect opening. How would Nick react if he discovered she was actually taking his offhand comment for her to take his place hosting the show seriously? “Give it a shot,” her ego urged.

  “When I was just in Nick’s room, I, uh, suggested he couldn’t possibly be serious about Leonie’s decision to tape on Monday. He said to me, ‘You volunteering to take over?’ Of course, he was kidding, his way of telling me he didn’t see any other options, but if you think it would help?” She let it go at that.

  Jasper blinked, started to say something, apparently thought better of it, and simply nodded his head. Finally, he replied, “Interesting idea. But since you and Leonie got off on the wrong foot, I don’t think that’s in the cards right now.”

  She bit a lip, hiding her disappointment. “Just a thought. I’ve never done any on-camera work anyhow, although I’d like to give it a try sometime.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  ****

  Back at her apartment, Reese found herself at a loss as to what to do next. She’d failed miserably to convince Nick not to come back to the show so soon. And Jasper’s response to her offer to pinch-hit for Nick had been lukewarm, if that. Her disappointment wouldn’t subside. Nick wasn’t a bad host. In fact, underneath those good looks, boyish charm and ever-present wit, there lived a master showman who reached right through the airwaves and made himself comfortable in the audience’s homes. But she could do that too. Couldn’t she?

  Shouldn’t be second-guessing herself. If she was serious about getting her own show, she had to be her own number one promoter.

  Pouring herself a glass of wine, she sipped while she mulled over that thought. She had the stuff to make this happen. Of course, she did! She just had to figure out how to use it.

  She wandered into her bathroom and faced herself in the mirror. She wasn’t that bad to look at. In f
act, she was a little more than attractive. With the right make-up—and she could find people to help her with that—she could upgrade her current look to fantastic.

  The wine eased through her veins, encouraging her as it went. She saluted herself with the glass. “You’re pretty hot stuff, there, Reese,” she told the image in the mirror. “You could easily give Mr. Nick Coltrane a run for his money.”

  She remembered how Nick would deliberately run a hand through his dark locks, just for effect. She tried the same. Much longer hair, but it seemed to work for her too.

  She could tell an audience how to prepare a dish just as convincingly as Nick. Better. Much better.

  To her audience inside the mirror she said, “Today, we’re preparing a little gem of a dish I learned about on my recent trip to Tuscany. Eggplant Parmigiana, complete with the secret ingredient used by the master chef at one of the finest hotels in Siena. I had to guess, because he wouldn’t tell me.” She leaned into the mirror, put an index finger across her mouth, willing to share the information with her audience, but they couldn’t tell anyone else. “Nutmeg. How simple, but how sublime when it comes to flavor.”

  She winked at her invisible camera. Examined her gestures, her posture, her general presence. Reese, my dear, you’ve got it! At least if she ever had to fill in as Nick Coltrane.

  Chapter Twelve

  “So, you’re really going through with this foolishness?” Reese asked a wheelchair-bound Nick on Monday morning.

  Rehearsal was about to start, and he felt like he’d been pulsed by his food processor. Mercifully, the painkillers had done their work numbing the pain, but now he couldn’t shed the accompanying grogginess. He had no idea how he was going to survive this foolishness, as Reese so aptly put it, but he didn’t want to disappoint Leonie. And he didn’t want to come across as a wimp to Reese. “Told ya I’d be here.”

  Reese continued to observe him, her eyes scrunched up in disbelief. “Just warn me before you keel over.”

  “Thought that was part of your new duties—catching my body as it tumbles?” Jasper had devised this plan where Reese would be off camera right next to him as his non-speaking assistant, so he wouldn’t have to move around the kitchen.

  “I’m to make sure that doesn’t happen by handing you whatever you need.”

  What he needed were several more days in bed. But he didn’t want to let Reese know how right she was about his ability to pull this off. He mentally gritted his teeth and forged on.

  He smiled at the camera. “Welcome to my kitchen. If things look a little different today, that’s because we’ve had to make a few alterations in light of the ankle I sprained the other day.” He patted the counter in front of him. “I’ll be seated for the next few episodes, so we’ve lowered my cooking surface, and we’ll be featuring a new addition, at least temporarily.” He pulled Reese’s hands into the camera shot. “These belong to one of our production assistants, Reese Dunbar. Pan over to the real person, guys, so our viewers can see the face that goes with these.”

  “Cut!” Leonie called.

  Jasper’s voice boomed over the PA system, “What? What’s the problem, Leonie?”

  Leonie sprang from her stool and headed to the window of the control booth. “You said hands, Jasper. Not face. We simply cannot venture into that territory.”

  Oh, c’mon, Leonie. Give the woman her due.

  “We’ll resume showing only her hands shortly, Leonie,” Jasper told her, “so it’s still a solo gig. But we need to acknowledge the fact that Reese will be playing a larger role behind the scenes for awhile.”

  “Larger role?” Trudy said in a lowered voice off stage. “They told me we both still had the same job. Are they paying you more for this?”

  “No!” Reese replied in a stage whisper.

  “I coulda used a few extra bucks myself,” Trudy whined.

  Turning to Nick, in a voice only he would hear, Reese said, “I’d prefer you skip my intro.”

  “You sure? It’s your chance to get your name out there.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Then it dawned on him. She didn’t want to be acknowledged as a production assistant. Until they gave her credit for being a chef, she preferred to remain anonymous. Hold on, Reese. If my plan works, it won’t be long before you get your wish.

  Jasper burst out of the control booth, his salt and pepper mane flowing, his face a study in determination. “Leonie! You and me. My office. Now.” He motioned for Leonie to follow him. Though not one to follow anyone, the executive producer moved off in his wake, her heels clicking haughtily.

  Nick started to join them, then remembered his immobility. He shrugged. “Guess the two generals have lost their mediator for awhile.”

  He watched the two warriors exit, laying odds with himself how long it would take before Leonie emerged the winner. Yet again. At least Jasper had been wise enough to move the confrontation away from prying ears.

  Five minutes later, Jasper stomped into the studio, scowling. Behind him, Leonie, smiling victoriously, made her way in without speaking to anyone. Jasper joined Reese and Nick at the counter, attempted a smile. “Slight change of plans. Nick, you’re going to thank Reese for assisting you. But, for now, no head shot, no naming her. Sorry, Reese.” He turned and trudged back to the control room without glancing at her.

  Nick gave Reese an apologetic smile, embarrassed by his aunt’s behavior.

  “It’s okay.”

  Back in the control room, Jasper called out, “Okay, folks, let’s roll. From the top, Nick,” and motioned for the floor director to start the five count.

  They repeated the segment, this time excluding Reese from the shot.

  Nick shared a few details about his accident. “I’d like to tell you this ankle thing happened on a rock climb or in a 10K run. Truth is, a stray bunch of grapes sent me sliding. I lost my balance and went down, my ankle turning the wrong way.”

  He then described how the day’s theme of an “urban picnic”—not the hamper-and-a-blanket-in-Central-Park variety—worked well with his current condition. “I’ll be grilling pork balls and pineapple Shish Kabobs with teriyaki-marinated veggies on our indoor stovetop. We’ll also have a fruit compote of sherry-drenched blueberries and strawberries, fast-rising dinner rolls, and we’ll top it all off with pound cake.”

  He stopped, cocked his head to the side for a dramatic pause and then added, “A little heavy on the carbs, but the doctors tell me I need to keep up my strength while I’m recuperating.”

  The rest of rehearsal went fairly well until the end, when Nick muffed a line. Then another. And a third.

  The actual taping went worse. Since they shot the episode three times, Nick would normally triple his efforts to hit one out of the ballpark, but today, his energy level plummeted to a third of its usual verve. His voice drifted off numerous times, and more than once he lost eye contact with the camera.

  He looked like a damned fool, attempting to come across as his normal, charming self. He felt so far from that guy right now. He could barely remember what day it was, let alone his lines.

  “Cut! Clean-up on Aisle 1,” Jasper barked.

  Now he was dropping things. Jasper kept it light, didn’t blame him, just cued in the rest of the crew to stay on the alert.

  A flimsy pork ball fell off the skewer. “Damn!”

  “Not to worry, Nick,” Trudy called over to him after Jasper had shouted “Cut!” again. “I’ll get a fresh bowl from the fridge. They’ll be firmer.”

  He offered her his lame thanks as he caught Reese watching him with a guarded expression. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t even say it.”

  “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

  “You warned me that I’d run out of steam.”

  “Are you in pain?”

  God, why did she have to sound so understanding? His discomfort was his own damned fault for not telling Leonie to stuff it. “I keep dropping things. Forgetting my lines. At least
I don’t have to do any chopping today.”

  “Shh. You don’t want your aunt to hear.”

  He shot a glance Leonie’s direction. “Maybe I do. She’s the one insisting on this madness.”

  With each new gaffe, his mood deteriorated further. Jasper kept his cool, trying to cajole a lighter performance from him. Leonie made sure bottled water was brought to him at each break, which was turning into every five minutes. None of their efforts were helping.

  As soon as the first taping ended, Jasper called Leonie over to where Nick sat in his wheelchair. “You,” he told Nick, “go rest. We’re breaking for an hour.” Then he turned to Leonie. “If you think this is working, you’re sadly deluded. We need to talk alternatives.” He literally pulled her off the set. Before he reached the door, though, he called back over his shoulder, “Stay close, Reese. We’re going to need you.”

  ****

  An hour and fifteen minutes later, James wheeled Nick back to the studio.

  “You sure you’re ready to come back?” Reese asked. “You still look a little groggy.”

  “Couldn’t sleep, as much as I tried. Kept waiting for Leonie’s unmistakable knock, asking how I was doing, meaning how soon could I get myself back here. Where is she anyway?”

  Now that he’d mentioned it, where was Auntie Dear? She hadn’t reappeared since she and Jasper had gone off to huddle. No wonder the last hour spent hanging around the set had been so pleasant.

  “Your aunt left,” Jasper announced, joining them.

  “What? I’ve never known her to leave the set during taping. Where’d she go?”

  “I couldn’t say,” Jasper replied. “Possibly back to her apartment. She may be cruising the city. Or on a shopping binge. She refused to stick around.”

  Nick leaned forward in his wheelchair as if he was going to stand up but caught himself just in time. “Okay, Jasper, what’s going on?”

  Jasper appeared to be more in command. Had he finally done in Leonie?