And He Cooks Too

by Barbara Barrett

  “It’s just that I’m very…passionate…about my work. About getting it exactly right.”

  Her mother’s eyes twinkled. “Yes, dear. I know all that.”

  Reese rolled her eyes. “I can be a real stickler.”

  “I’ve noticed that once or twice as well.” She placed a hand on Reese’s. “But that’s what makes you you.”

  Relief overwhelmed her. Though she couldn’t speak, she breathed normally again. She rose and hugged her mother before heading off to retrieve her bags.

  Her mother followed in her wake, helping her transport her things to her old room. Once there, she said, “Before the guys come home, you need to know what we’ve been up to.”

  Reese raised a brow. “Up to?”

  “Don’t panic. They’ve really done a pretty great job setting up this demo for you. I just wanted you to be appropriately….”

  “Appreciative?” Reese guessed, settling onto her bed. “Don’t worry, Mom. I can’t shake my chef’s ego, but I’ll keep it in check.”

  Her mother offered her a satisfied smile. “Good. Then you won’t mind that I’ve come on board as well? Since the guys are already doing the writing, directing, camera work, and props, about all that was left was assistant producer. Make-up and costumes aren’t really my forte.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be planning your bridge tournament this time of year?”

  Waving a hand to dismiss the notion, her mother said. “That? We’ve done it for so many years it pretty much plans itself now. I want to do this, if it’s okay with you. I’d like to use my old marketing skills to help you sell your show. At least make calls for you and say I’m your agent.”

  Though her mother was usually a happy, engaged individual, Reese saw a new spark in her eyes. The woman was actually enjoying all this. “Okay,” she replied hesitantly, “as long as I make the final decisions.”

  Her mother’s voice held a tinkle. “Was there ever any question of that?” Then she turned her head toward the door. “They’re home. Ready to go meet your future?”

  Ten minutes later, eyes closed at her brothers’ insistence, Reese let them lead her toward the garage. Her stepfather, Elliott Grandquist, escorted her through what must have been the utility door and held onto her arm until she’d gone another four steps. “Okay, open your eyes.”

  She blinked a few times, then simply stared, attempting to take it all in. The two cars that usually occupied the garage had disappeared, replaced with a small kitchen set, refrigerator, oven, sink, cabinets and counters. She ran a hand over the stainless steel refrigerator door, appreciating the cold, smooth surface. German-made. Impressive. “Guys, I never expected anything like this. You’ve outdone yourselves.”

  Grinning, Evan played his fingers over a hand-held camera he grabbed from the counter. “Yeah, well, my buddy, Greg, owed me a favor. He let me borrow his video equipment. His parents just redid their kitchen, so he talked his mom into loaning us the old stuff until they get a buyer.” He flashed an eager smile. “He’s even going to help with the camera work when we get to taping. Pretty great, huh?”

  “I should say,” she agreed. “We could compete with Hollywood. The Indies at least.”

  “Hey, Sis,” her oldest brother Seth said, coming up to her. “Sorry I missed out on the∂ confab that launched this idea, but Dad and I are here now. We want in on the action. Charley’s going to direct and I’m going to serve as your floor manager, whatever that is.”

  “And I’m your audience,” Elliott added.

  Joining them, her mother said, “You can borrow the fundamentals—dishes, pots, pans, utensils—from my kitchen.”

  Reese slapped a hand over her mouth, taken aback. “Oh, my god! I forgot about those details. I was so intent evacuating my dressing room—” Oops, how had that slipped out?

  Charley pounced on her words. “Was there a fire?”

  “Uh, well.”

  Her mother nodded, signaling that there was no time like the present to update the family on her career change.

  “Find a seat, everyone,” Reese said. As she had with her mother, she told them about leaving the show and the events that led up to it. “So, And He Cooks Too is history for me and it’s full steam ahead with my own show.”

  Charley put an arm around her shoulder. “We caught a couple episodes where you co-hosted, Sis. You did great. Learned all you needed to.”

  “We’re all here to help you take the next step,” Seth added.

  His words came back to haunt her the next day, when they got down to business, because everyone seemed to have a different idea what help meant.

  “Cut!” Her mother called, after Evan and Charley bumped into each other for the third time.

  “Mom, only Charley gets to do that,” Seth chided. “He’s the director.”

  “Then he can’t keep knocking into the camera operators,” she replied.

  Reese rubbed her temples. As she’d told her mother the previous day, for all their good intentions, her family was a group of well-meaning amateurs. Maybe she needed to pull in some professionals immediately. No, she couldn’t do that to her family, not when they’d worked so hard setting this up.

  “How about a break, Charley?”

  Begrudgingly, her middle brother replied, “Yeah. Okay.”

  She had to lighten the mood. Get everyone to relax. But how? “Somebody tell a joke.”

  Elliott gave her a look that said, “You’re kidding?”

  “I heard one the other day at my book club,” her mother offered. “Let me see, how did that go?”

  Charley looked away. Seth rolled his eyes. Evan scooped up his camera and started adjusting the settings.

  So much for that idea. What now, Producer Lady? Think, Reese. Make this work. She was usually so intense, being flip didn’t come easily. Except that time when… Without thinking it through, she called, “Hey, everyone. Want to see my rendition of Nick Coltrane?” She’d told herself she’d never do this again after things had warmed up between her and Nick. But she hadn’t known then about his lies.

  Evan lifted a brow. “You do impressions?”

  “Sort of. I was exploring in my head what having my own show would mean, so I tried out the idea by channeling our great host. I discovered I had a knack for mimicking. Him, at least.”

  Everyone stopped talking. Six sets of curious eyes focused on her, waiting patiently.

  She took a deep, cleansing breath, wishing she had a glass of cabernet in her hand, as had been the case when she did this in front of her bathroom mirror. She’d have to wing it. Give full rein to her punchiness. She combed a hand through her hair, like she’d seen Nick do so many times as he psyched himself up to go before the camera. Curtain time.

  “Greetings, boys and girls.” Reese dropped her voice an octave in an attempt to sound like Nick. “We’re coming to you from a little gem of an automotive depository, otherwise known as the Grandquist Garage. Today we’re making stone soup. Yes, you heard me correctly. This is a tried and true delicacy handed down generation to generation by grandmothers and babysitters.”

  She held up a pot and a large wooden spoon, two of the few props they’d brought in. “The genius of this little concoction is that everything happens in this vessel. First ingredient, one-hundred percent tap water. Not that questionable liquid found in plastic bottles, but the pure elixir of the local waterworks.” She made an exaggerated production of measuring out just the right amount of air, then stirring. “The trick is in the mixing. Here’s where real technique counts. No less than fifteen full revolutions. No more than twenty. And only counterclockwise.”

  She looked up to find her family and Evan’s friend, Greg, the videographer, watching her with rapt attention, nodding, smiling, with something akin to amazement in their expressions.

  “If my assistant will pass me the prime ingredient: the stone?” She motioned for Seth to join her but made a show of pushing him out of the picture, allowing only his hand to appear.


  Seth’s forehead wrinkled. Obviously he’d forgotten that she’d made her brothers stone soup in the sandbox when she babysat them years ago. But he recovered quickly, handing her a stray hubcap that had been hanging on the wall behind him.

  “Thank you, sir. Now, if you’ll just step out of the picture? I realize you’re the stone soup expert, known worldwide for it I’m told, but since I’m the star of the show, we’ll gloss over that small detail and I’ll take the glory.” She sported a smile, stuck a finger in her cheek to make it look like a dimple, bowed. Then she drew the hubcap up to her face like a mirror and checked her teeth.

  She went on a bit longer until she found herself getting too slap-happy. When she stopped, her audience burst into hearty applause.

  Seth reacted first. “That was stupendous! I’ve only seen the show a few times, but you’ve got that guy pegged.”

  “Yeah,” Charley added, “you’re better imitating him than he is doing the show for real.”

  If her brother only knew. Nick the actor did a pretty good job imitating a real chef himself. Had her fooled. “Thanks, guys. Hope I didn’t get too carried away.”

  Her mother hugged her tightly. “I’d totally forgotten how you hoodwinked the boys into minding you with that trick.”

  Reese shook her head, still amazed at her performance. “I don’t know where that came from, Mom.” Maybe she’d found a constructive way to work through her anger.

  “It was really funny. Perhaps you should consider stand-up comedy instead of a cooking show. Didn’t that friend of your co-host say you had potential?”

  “I think that was either a come-on or his attempt to irritate Nick.”

  “Ah, yes. Nick. The subject of your little act,” her mother observed. “What’s the story there? I thought things were heating up between the two of you.”

  Reese glanced over her shoulder in hopes that someone would interrupt. Unfortunately, her stepfather and the boys were embroiled discussing the pros and cons of the next camera angle. “He commiserated with me about that article for about two minutes, then he wanted to slough it off. Then I discovered he wasn’t who he seemed.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Her mother tilted her head, apparently considering how much further to probe. “That little routine you entertained us with carried a tad too much energy in the delivery. Is that why you’re here with us instead of back in the city?”

  “Mom! I’m here because the guys were ready to do the demo. Plus, I needed something to take my mind off leaving the show.”

  Her mother continued to watch Reese, as if expecting her to say something more.

  Unable to escape, she gave in. “Okay, okay. You win. Two days ago, I discovered him in a huge lie. I’d rather not explain further, because other people are involved. But it was horrendous.”

  “Did you confront him about it?”

  “I started to, but I was so furious, I couldn’t think. I had to get out of there.”

  Her mother pulled her over to two lawn chairs they’d set up for those not directly working with the cameras. “So you gave up a job you loved and a blossoming relationship for something you didn’t stick around to verify?”

  She didn’t appreciate her mother’s logic. “I overheard him, Mom. There was no way to mistake his words.”

  Her mother blew out a breath, hopefully deterred by Reese’s dismissal of the situation. However, she’d only stopped to regroup her thoughts. “You didn’t give him a chance to explain. You assumed, then you acted.”

  Reese opened then shut her mouth. “You’re right. It’s just that it all came at me at once. I let my emotions color my better judgment.” She straightened her shoulders. “I’m not unhappy I left. I’m jazzed about doing my own show.”

  To her surprise, her mother agreed. “Good. You took that job to get experience and see if you really wanted to branch out on your own. Mission accomplished there. Your dealings with Nick are another matter.”

  “What are you suggesting I do, Mom? He lied to me. End of story.”

  “Perhaps. But some stories have epilogues. Or even sequels.” Her mother placed a hand on Reese’s arm. “Spend some time here having fun with this demo. Give your heart a rest. Then deal with Nick.”

  Reese looked away. As usual, her mother’s vision of the big picture surpassed hers. She rose to return to the taping. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll consider what you’ve said. “

  As she approached her brothers, Evan looked up and grinned. “Wait ’til you see yourself. You’re not going to believe how funny you were.”

  “You got my little performance on tape?” She wasn’t aware her stint at comedy was being preserved.

  Evan showed her his hand-held camera. She’d forgotten about it, because they’d been relying mainly on Greg’s larger camera. Evan seemed so pleased with himself, she dropped her concerns about his putting her flip routine on tape.

  Resuming his directorial duties, Charley said, “All the kinks worked out, Sis? Can we get back to taping?”

  She gave him a mock salute. “Aye aye, Cap’n. Let’s get rolling.”

  Remarkably, her impersonation of Nick turned the tide. She relaxed, remembered her lines and inserted new ones as her mood dictated. The improvement in her mood affected the rest of them. Charley and Evan conferred throughout, stopping only when the pace seemed to slow. The others sat back and became a responsive audience.

  Around midnight, Charley pronounced his final “Cut!” followed by, “That’s a wrap!” Looking pleased with himself, he uttered, “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

  ****

  The day after Jasper quit the show, Nick convinced him to meet for martinis at a midtown piano lounge. Nick wasn’t above pleading. It was suddenly just him versus Leonie, and the odds didn’t appeal. “You’ve gotta help me, man. Come back to the show.”

  Jasper folded his arms across his chest and leaned back, his martini untouched. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about the show.”

  “Okay, I tricked you. I’m a desperate guy these days.”

  “Did Leonie put you up to this?”

  “Hell, no!” Nick snapped. “If she knew the two of us were together, she’d be on my case even more than she has been.”

  A small V formed above the bridge of Jasper’s nose. “How’s she doing?”

  “Leonie? She’s the proverbial captain going down with the ship, only she has no idea, or at least won’t admit, that it’s sinking.”

  Jasper closed his eyes briefly before opening them again to respond. “I hoped my leaving would wake her up.”

  “She considered bringing in a new director, but no one would bite. So now, she’s decided she can also direct. While co-hosting with me.”

  Jasper finally deigned to take a sip of his martini.

  Nick waited. “Jasper, we need help.”

  “The show’s no longer my problem.”

  “Ah, c’mon, man. You were just ticked at Leonie and me. But you and I both know you’re coming back. Just accelerate your timeline.”

  Jasper sat forward and clasped his hands together. “And do what? Convince her not to go before the camera? No, let her learn the hard way, when the network passes on the show. She’ll lose interest and go back to the old format. Then you can get out too.”

  “You won’t help?” Incredulous, Nick set his drink back on the table. “You’re really not coming back?”

  “She pulled me from a morass of self-pity a few years back. For that, I thought I owed her my life.” He took another sip of his drink. “But I’ve realized my life is worth more than eternal, unquestioning allegiance to her.”

  Jasper’s words struck close to home. But Jasper, unlike him, had acted on his conviction.

  “Have you spoken with Reese yet? Found out why she left?”

  “That ship has sailed, man.”

  Jasper scowled. “Says who? You? That woman was solid. Despite that thing at Solange, she wouldn’t have left us without a damned good reason.”

&nbs
p; Nick swirled the liquid in his glass to avoid Jasper’s scrutiny. “You’re suggesting I track her down and find out what it was?”

  “You’ve always been such a smart boy.” Jasper finished his drink, pushed away from the table. “Don’t let this one get away.” He patted Nick’s arm and walked out of the bar, not looking back.

  ****

  The morning after the demo taping, Reese ate a late breakfast by herself. Elliott was at work and her brothers were at Greg’s house editing the demo. “I feel like I’ve been drugged,” she confessed to her mother as she wolfed down a cinnamon roll.

  Her mother carried an armload of dirty clothes to the laundry room just off the kitchen. “Stress and frustration can do that. Rest was the best thing for you.”

  Reese had just stuck her plate and utensils in the dishwasher when the doorbell rang. From the laundry room, her mother called, “Reese, can you get that?”

  She headed for the door, brushing stray crumbs from her lounging pants. To her amazement, Nick stood on the other side, appearing slightly out of place amongst the foliage that framed the front porch.

  “Uh, hi,” he greeted her. “You’re not easy to track down.”

  The dusky aroma of his aftershave overpowered her senses, triggering memories of their private times together that were still too painful to recall. Nonetheless, her heart rate immediately picked up on its own volition. “You seem to have broken the code.”

  He gave her a shy, schoolboy smile. “I had to see you.”

  Her brain said, “Close the door and don’t say anything more,” but she stood there frozen, a wave of confusion paralyzing her. Her fury over his lie rekindled, the heat mounting higher than the first time, but the very sight of him generated another kind of heat inside her core. The two reactions warred against each other. She wanted to be in his arms again, for all this deception and secrecy to never have occurred, and at the same time, she was tempted to slap his face repeatedly for letting her down.

  He looked so innocent, so concerned. So unaware that the jig was up.

  “How dare you come to my parents’ home?”

  He flinched, the smile disappearing. “You didn’t leave me much choice. No call, no text message, no email.”