And He Cooks Too

by Barbara Barrett

  The director shot a glance Reese’s direction but apparently decided she could be included in the rest of this discussion. “I finally convinced Leonie that you were in no shape to do the show yet. At least not the way you usually do it. Reese is going to join you.”

  “Well, yeah, I figured as much,” Nick said.

  Jasper took a deep breath. “As your co-host.”

  Nick’s brows rose.

  “What?” Reese said, alarm shooting up her spine. “I can’t co-host.”

  Jasper took her hand. “Of course, you can, Reese. You’ve got the expertise. And you’ll look good in front of the camera. Don’t you agree, Nick?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “My only knowledge of the script is what food to prepare. I haven’t memorized the lines,” she protested.

  “She has a point,” Nick agreed. “It will look a little strange, me talking to the audience and Reese just standing there, saying nothing.”

  “Forget the script. There isn’t time to rewrite it. You and Reese are going to improvise, ad lib. At least for this week.”

  “Improvise?” Reese clutched her stomach, which had begun to roil like the day one of the other cooking students substituted sugar for salt in her prize pot roast. “You mean, just make things up as we go?” Why was her body rebelling, ready to keel over? She should be on top of the world. This was just what she wanted. What she’d discussed with her family only days before.

  Nick touched her arm. “You okay? I thought I was the sicky here, but your face looks like you walked into a cloud of flour.”

  Go before the camera? Today? With no rehearsal. She wanted this. The on-camera time was essential preparation for her own show. But now, face to face with the chance to prove herself, she had second thoughts.

  A totally oblivious Jasper said, “You’ve been through the script once. Both of you. So you’ve got some structure to fall back on. But you can throw in your own words too.”

  Nick responded for her. “I think she could use a cold drink. Wheel me over to the craft services table, would you, Reese?”

  Though she hesitated, giving him a look that said, “Now?” she did as he asked. But her footing was about as stable as Nick’s would be at the moment, if he attempted to walk. She nearly rammed him into the table, but he still managed to retrieve a bottle for each of them.

  “Let’s go out in the hall,” he suggested. In the corridor, he pointed to a stray chair and made her sit. “I’ll ask again. Are you okay?”

  Her hands went immediately to her abdomen. “Do I look okay?”

  “No. You’re ready to hyperventilate. Don’t talk. Take deep breaths.”

  She did as he directed.

  “It’s payback time,” he told her. “I owe you for getting me to the hospital, staying with me, visiting me the other day.”

  “Payback?”

  “What I meant was, it’s my turn to be concerned about you. And help you deal.”

  “Deal?”

  “You’re scared, right?”

  God, yes, she was scared. She was at a crossroads in her career. Her big opportunity had come sooner than she’d planned. Was she up to it?

  “I know you act tough. You’ve had to learn that to play with the big boys in the kitchen. But just for now, you can let down your guard with me. Hell, tear up a bit, if that helps.”

  She’d like to let down her guard. But could she trust him? Her trust radar where men were concerned was pathetic.

  “Doing this without a script is frightening me as well. I’m an actor. I live by other people’s words. On my own, I could be a mumbling mass of nonsense, especially as out of it as I’ve felt all day. I need you to help me get through this.”

  She wished he hadn’t reminded her of his other career, because this pep talk could all be one big act. Although, that day he’d counseled Deborah he’d been genuine.

  He kept going, while she figured out how to respond. “Drink some of that water. I have no idea how it’s supposed to help, but that’s what they always advise. Never quite figured out who they are, but they must know what they’re doing. You hear it all the time in the movies.” He paused to catch his breath.

  Enough! “Stop, Nick! You’re prattling.”

  “Prattling? I thought only women did that.”

  “That’s what it was.”

  “Okay, no prattling. But answer my question. What’s got you so freaked out?”

  “It’s all coming at me so fast. No time to think it through.”

  “What about kitchen emergencies? You don’t have time to think those through either.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But what? Who gave me first aid before anyone else even moved when I burned my hand? Who called the EMTs when I went down at the Monforts?”

  He was wearing her down, for which she was grateful. She could do this. Besides, he needed her. Whether he’d been sincere about that or not, he really did need her. He was a good host, the only thing keeping this show afloat. But with her at his side, he could be a great host.

  “You’ve done this before, Reese. It may not have been in front of a camera, but a kitchen’s every bit a stage.”

  She stood, brushed her slacks. “Okay, okay! You should go into sales. You’re quite convincing.”

  “Does that mean…?”

  “I swear if you get the least bit cocky over this, Nick, I’ll…I’ll—”

  “Show me up on camera?”

  “That’s a given.”

  She started to make her way back to the set, then remembered Nick in his wheelchair and returned to him. “Going my way?”

  As soon as Jasper saw Reese wheeling Nick through the door, he shot up and went to them. “That determined smile on your face tells me you’re going through with this.”

  Reese nodded, attempting to retain the smile. “Let’s do it.”

  Jasper clapped his hands. “Great!”

  “I want to do this, Jasper. I just wasn’t expecting it today.”

  “Pretend you’re back in your kitchen at Solange and you’re instructing new kitchen help,” Jasper advised. “People with only basic culinary knowledge, which needs to be molded under your instruction.”

  She nodded, rubbed her chin. “That makes sense.”

  “We’ve already been through this twice, Reese, so it’s not like we’ll be working without a net.”

  She continued to nod, “True, true. But without a script, we’ll be stepping on each other’s words. And heaven knows, we have two totally different approaches to cooking.”

  “That’s called synergy,” Nick said. “We combine our individual strengths and come up with one fantastic show.”

  Jasper picked up the string. “That’s right. We pit your serious dedication to food preparation against Nick’s wit and charm. You can’t argue with those ingredients.” He smiled at his pun.

  “I suppose—”

  “I’ve got it!” Nick interrupted. “We just continue our recent bantering, like the early part of our shopping expedition last week. It’s a natural. You can be yourself. I’ll, of course, be my own inimical charming self, and we have the original script to fall back on for structure.”

  Jasper was nearly jumping up and down. “Perfect! You’ll hardly have to think, Reese.”

  “I didn’t realize what we were doing last week was bantering,” she said. “More like self-defense on my part.”

  “Exactly what I was getting at,” Nick returned.

  Jasper clicked on his pocket mic. “Okay, everyone. Gather round.”

  Like rats that scattered in a rainstorm now abated, the crew and other production staff scurried onto the set.

  Once everyone had assembled, Nick observed, “I half expected Leonie to make her grand entrance to foil the arrangements just made. But she’s not here.”

  For the first time since she’d joined the show, Reese felt like she could breathe easily.

  That’s when it hit her. She was going to appear on television.

 
; Her new career had already started.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Hey there, folks! We’ve changed things up a bit for today’s show,” Nick told his television audience as the altered format got underway. He went on to explain about his injured ankle. Before he made it to a description of the accident, though, Reese interrupted.

  “And wouldn’t you know, his fall was food-related. Tell them, Nick.” Good. She’d caught him off guard. While they’d wired her for sound, it occurred to her that the best way to deal with Nick was to stay in control. Two steps ahead of him, hypothetically speaking, since he couldn’t walk at the moment.

  Nick shot her a strange look, like she’d already said too much, then recovered his composure and smiled back into the camera. “That’s true. We were exploring local food markets, shopping for the foodstuffs for today’s show. I made the mistake of walking into a fray between two grocers. And…”

  “And stepped onto some stray fruit that had fallen on the floor,” she finished for him.

  “Uh, yeah. Down I went.” Nick shot Reese a look that seemed to convey, “At least give me the last word on this.”

  Reese clamped a hand over her heart. “So brave. He refused to miss today’s show, which is why I’m here. I’ll handle the food preparation and Nick…”

  “Will still be here to talk her through it. See, Reese is a famous New York chef, but she’s not used to being in front of the camera.”

  Reese fixed the camera with her most winning smile. “But I’m delighted to be here to help out however I can.” There, that wasn’t so bad. She hadn’t even taken a breath before she spoke, and yet her words flowed smoothly with genuine enthusiasm.

  Nick cocked his head. “Ready to give me that assistance you just mentioned?” Swiveling back to lay his own claim to the camera, he said, “Here’s what we’re going to do today.” He went on to introduce the show’s theme and list what they’d be preparing.

  Somewhere between her last statement and Nick’s piece, Reese’s brainwaves split in two. While the expert chef remained in residence to do the actual work and insert food factoids as needed, another part of her brain headed down a lighter path. “Urban, huh?” she wondered out loud. “Is it called that because, when you live in the Big Apple, it’s a bit risky to plant your checkered tablecloth in the middle of a city park where dogs and who knows what else have roamed?”

  Nick paused, somewhat surprised by her comment, but recovered quickly to add, “That’s right, Reese. So we’re bringing the park to our viewers’ living rooms, where we assume the turf is safer. Everything we’ll be showing you today, folks, can be fixed right in your city kitchen.”

  Reese’s sense of timing told her they should get down to business. They paired up on the pork balls and marinated veggies, Reese showing the audience how to soak the skewers in advance, Nick mixing the meat and the marinade. Once the pork balls had been skewered and laid on the indoor grill, Nick turned to the camera. “You’ve got to see this, folks. I may be good at chopping, but this lady has a technique all her own. Go ahead, Reese, show them.”

  Was he getting back at her for the urban comment? She couldn’t tell when he was being serious. “It’s just diced onions and mushrooms, Nick.”

  “Bring the camera in closer, guys. This will be an education.”

  Okay, fella. You want chopping, stand back. Now that she’d made friends with the camera, she gazed into it momentarily, then indicated for the cameraman to aim the lens at the countertop. “When chopping, stay focused on the food,” she advised. “Your eyes have to adopt a rhythm that balances the location of the knife with the condition of the food item so the one doesn’t slip and the other doesn’t move.” Thanks, Trudy, for the practice session.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Nick staring at her, his mouth slightly open. Finally, to the camera he said, “See? Didn’t I tell you?”

  That wasn’t so hard. In fact, she felt herself lightening up almost to the point of enjoying herself. “All this praise for a little chopping? Wait ’til you see my fricassee.”

  Nick raised a speculative brow. “Fricassee, huh? Sounds pretty wild.”

  Why had she said that? Now she’d left herself open to whatever insinuation Nick threw at her. When she saw his eyebrow rise even higher, she knew she was in for it. No backing out.

  Nick produced a knowing expression for the camera’s benefit. “Listen to the sound of it. Fric-as-see.” He overemphasized the first syllable. Facing Reese, he said, “Doesn’t that sound wild to you? Or wicked? Yeah, that’s what I meant.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Nick, you could make a nursery rhyme sound bawdy.”

  He looked aghast. “Bawdy? Moi?”

  She breathed out a deep sigh for the audience, as if his kidding was so provocative.

  “You think I was trying to make the term sound…sexy?” The last word came out in a stage whisper. “Shame, shame, Reese,” he admonished. “I said wicked, as in murder. Getting rid of someone.”

  “Now there’s a thought,” she returned dryly.

  Addressing the crew off-camera, he said, “Have we ever fricasseed anything? I would have remembered something as sensational as that.”

  “Speaking of remembering, how about getting back to our menu?”

  “Ah, yes. Our urban picnic.” He pushed pound cake her direction and began preparing strawberries and blueberries to top it.

  They made short work of their respective tasks. Nick grabbed the package of pre-made rolls and arranged them in a basket while Reese threw a red and white checked tablecloth over the counter, since Nick couldn’t easily move to the floor. Next came a picnic basket, paper plates and cups followed by fine silver and even a nosegay for a centerpiece. Voilá! Urban picnic.

  Reese de-skewered the pork balls and veggies and arranged them on a platter.

  “It really does look like a picnic,” Nick marveled. “All we need are the ants.”

  “Don’t suggest we have ants in our kitchen,” she chided. Inspiration struck. “No aunts allowed here.” The last was for Nick’s benefit. The audience would have no idea.

  Nick briefly closed his eyes, bit a lip, then gave her a broad smile, while shaking his head. He handed her a flute of lemonade and clinked glasses in a toast. “To our partnership.”

  It sounded innocent enough, but she detected an undertone of something else. And not just their mutual delight in being Leonie-free at the moment.

  A few more wind-up comments, good-byes to the audience, and they were done. Jasper immediately burst from the control booth.

  Both Nick and Reese remained rooted to their places in a state of suspended shock. They’d made it through the taping! Even without a script, no pockets of dead air. No kitchen catastrophes. And, the biggest surprise of all, it had been fun!

  Nick revived first, pulling Reese onto his lap for a big bear hug. “We did it, Reese!” His exuberance caused her to slosh lemonade onto his shirt.

  Grabbing a nearby tea towel and patting down the stain, still awestruck, Reese said, “We did, didn’t we?” In the midst of her ministrations, she looked up to catch him watching her, his eyes narrowed and dark.

  But like that, his eyes snapped and melded into a congratulatory expression. “And you were worried about doing this? You’re a natural!”

  “Thanks. You’re a great partner. Especially given your condition. How do you feel, by the way?”

  “You have to ask? I feel so much better. Great, actually. Whatever we did was the best medicine.”

  “Hey, you two. That was stupendous!” Jasper gushed, joining them. “Fantastic! More than I ever hoped for.”

  “Really?” Reese asked, hopping up from Nick’s lap. “You liked it? You really liked it? Oh, God, I sound like that actress, don’t I?”

  “Liked it?” Jasper repeated. “We may never use a script again.”

  She shook out her hands to bring herself back to reality. Was that what was making her eyes swim? Or was it the unexpected contact with
Nick? Whichever, she couldn’t stop smiling.

  “It’s going to take more than the usual half hour between tapings for me to come down,” Nick told them.

  “That may not be a problem,” Jasper replied. “I don’t see how a second time through could be as spontaneous as the first. It might even take the edge off that banter thing you’ve got going between you.” He turned to Reese. “Go relax. Use the extra dressing room. I’ll have some tea or juice sent back.”

  At first, she couldn’t figure out what he meant. Why would she need tea or juice? She felt terrific. Then it dawned on her. She was now the Talent. The talent got certain perks.

  She would have preferred to rush out to the street and tell the world how terrific she felt, but she deferred to Jasper’s suggestion. “Tea. Okay. Thanks.”

  ****

  The dressing room was sparsely furnished: a make-up table, day bed, couch, TV set, and small refrigerator. But for Reese, it was like the high roller suite at one of Vegas’ top hotels, though she’d never been in one of those either. She’d barely settled onto the couch when a knock at the door interrupted her reverie.

  Trudy shot through the door. She thrust a tray holding a cup and saucer and a small teapot at Reese. “Here. I’m now your personal assistant. Earl Grey had better be okay, because I’m not going back for more.”

  Reese inhaled the sharp, piquant aroma of the hot liquid. Not quite what she needed to come down from her recent experience, but it would help. “Thanks. And sorry, I didn’t realize Jasper would stick you with that task.”

  Trudy flopped onto the day bed, bounced several times. “This isn’t bad. I’ve been in here before, when taping ran long and some of us bugged out to catch a couple beers. But I’ve never been here in the presence of the Star.”

  “Trudy! Give it a rest. I’m having enough trouble adjusting to this change.”

  Trudy shot her a puzzled expression. “Trouble? Nick’s feeling worlds better, Jasper is enthralled, and you’re getting star treatment. Stop worrying about adjusting. Sit back and enjoy it while it lasts.”

  Reese poured herself a cup of tea, hoping Trudy would take the hint and leave. She really needed some alone time to bask in her triumph and consider her next moves. This was all happening sooner than she’d planned. She’d been speed skating to keep up during the taping. She needed to slow the pace to choreograph the rest of her program.