Meet Cate

by Fiona Barnes

  “Any day now!" His face lit up. Gruffly, he said, "Nice of you to remember.”

  She nodded, pleased.

  "Good to see your husband the other day, Ms. J.”

  She'd asked him a million times to call her Cate. She wasn't going to ask a million and one, so she bit her tongue. “Tom?”

  The serious guard caught her eye. “He didn't stop to see you?"

  “Melissa told me I missed him,” Cate lied.

  Ralph looked at her for another long moment, then his handsome face lit up in a smile. “Oh, that's too bad, Ms. J. Next time he comes through, I'll buzz you, how's that?”

  So much for privacy in this day and age. “Ralph, thank you.” Cate smiled at the busy man. Waving goodbye, she moved through the door into the busy atrium.

  The show wrapped after the last guest. Next on her schedule was lunch, then prep for tomorrow's show. After Cate taped a few promos spots, she could go home and make dinner, then work on some menu ideas for Sylvia. Would she ever get tired of standing in front of a stove? She didn't think so.

  Tomorrow was Friday night. Cate usually stayed late in the city with friends on her team, eating somewhere trendy. On Saturdays, she typically met Nic and Alex over Skype for dinner.

  Cate kept her mind busy, anything to stop from wondering what Tom was up to. Was he looking for her? If so, why not contact her directly? Why was he looking for her? Maybe he wasn't looking for her, maybe he was trying to intimidate her? No, she decided, not Tom.

  Back to work. She had to relax her mind so she could process.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cate decided to go to the outdoor mall after her long day. She parked her silver Jeep Grand Cherokee under a light, sitting for a minute. Best Buy would be a good place to start, then she'd move on to Target.

  In the busy, loud electronics store, she perused video games. She knew what Nic liked, but she also knew there would be newer gaming systems (and therefore newer games) out closer to the holidays, so she moved through the section. Alex was always happy with writing supplies. When Cate noticed a pretty hot pink thumb drive that locked, she thought: that screams Al. Putting it in her basket, she looked around for a matching journal or planner. Finding both, Cate began to relax and enjoy shopping. Just what Al would love, more places to write things down. She's a girl after my own heart, thought Cate, as she imagined her pretty daughter's expression.

  Taking a second turn through video games, Cate looked for her boy's old favorites, Driver, Need for Speed, Crash or Rachet and Clank – and Pokemon, for Al and Nic. Finding a salesperson, she explained her wishes and watched the young man think.

  “They'd like the new Driver,” he told her. “It's for PlayStation 5. Do you have that system?”

  “No,” Cate told the young, thoughtful man. “They have the four.”

  “Well, there's one out for that,” he said. “It's pretty fun.”

  “How much is a PlayStation 5?” Cate asked, expecting to see his eyes jump.

  A few minutes later, Cate checked out, walking the packages to her Jeep and loading the bags in cargo.

  Bypassing Target to stop in Yankee Candle, Cate returned the sales woman's bright greeting. At the seasonal selections wall, Cate automatically began layering scents. She placed a small Macintosh lid upside down within a larger Autumn Leaves lid and sniffed appreciatively, already aware she'd need a basket. The crisp scents mingled, reminding Cate how buying tea lights; slim tapers; big, fat jars for her kitchen, bedroom and her office in the city always relaxed her.

  “Credit or debit?” the bouncy, young salesgirl asked a short while later. Cate stood at the counter, happily smelling Christmas Eve. Her foot tapped along to the musac. She was cheerful and fulfilled−people often did that for her.

  “Debit, please,” Cate answered. Her face was still in the candle. She was imagining layering: Balsam & Cedar? Peppermint Cocoa? "I'm so excited you have Christmas scents out already!"

  The salesgirl smiled. “It's almost never too early. You're Cate James!” Her nametag read Lucy.

  “Yes," Cate replied.

  “I just love your show! My mom watches you every day, and records it when I have to work. I asked for your book for Christmas!” The girl gushed, “We just love you!”

  Cate listened, touched.

  A few minutes later, Cate added to her pile in the cargo of her Jeep. She tossed an old Coca-Cola blanket over the purchases, then pulled copies of her newest cookbook and Nic's most recent CD out of a deeper hidden compartment in the spacious vehicle. Climbing up into the driver's seat, Cate reached into her voluminous bag for her favorite ink pen. She opened the book and scrawled a message to Lucy and her mom, signing her name illegibly. The CD was already signed; Nic knew his mother well.

  Locking her Jeep, she strolled back through the commons to Yankee Candle, where she surprised a shocked Lucy with the gift.

  “Thank you for all your help, and for being a fan,” Cate told the speechless girl sincerely.

  “I–I don't know what to say!” Lucy's mouth hung open. “Thank you! Oh, my mom will be so excited!”

  “Please tell her I said thank you,” Cate smiled.

  “Oh, I will! I will! Thank you so much!” the astonished girl stammered to Cate.

  And with that, Cate sailed out. She felt wonderful. Lucy, content and dreamy, showed off her new cookbook to the next customers in line. She couldn't stop grinning.

  Chapter Twelve

  Back at home, Cate set her purchases down in her spacious office. The desk was large and ornate; it fit the room perfectly. The wall behind it featured bookshelves and built-in filing cabinets, both finished in a light stain. To her left was the hallway to the kitchen. To her right sat a long, wooden conference table that doubled as a meeting area. (And a sometimes craft area, or a seasonal wrapping station.) Under the window that looked out onto the porch was a window seat. The inviting spot was nestled between tall cabinets that held organized wicker bins full of craft, office and holiday supplies. The cabinet doors were framed and lined with chalkboard paint. Across from Cate sat a group of large windows looking out on the driveway and the woods beyond. There was another window seat, and a low bookshelf−a makeshift play area for the children that seemed to always find their way to her. In the far corner of the room stood a tall, traditional brick fireplace. In front of the majestic fireplace were two upholstered chairs. They matched the pair that sat closer to Cate's spacious and elegant desk, for guests. The exquisite silver pattern of the cushions blended beautifully with the colors that dripped from luxurious window treatments. Behind the desk, where Cate stood now, sat her own highback, leather desk chair. The end result was a comfortable, warm, serious room that said, let's do business.

  Cate unloaded her packages, meaning to add a few of the carefully wrapped candles to the drawer where she stored items for donation. This time of year the drawer was more full than it normally was, as she prepared for Toys for Tots and Christmastime giving. There were gift cards from Barnes & Noble, bags and bags of Hershey Kisses (she could move those to the freezer) and two boxes of smaller crafts she'd picked out at The Big E, the largest state fair in New England.

  Cate put the Best Buy bag aside on her neat desk, to be wrapped and stored until closer to Christmas. (She'd have her tree in less than two months, Cate thought happily.) Her unpacking done, Cate jotted a Post-it note to herself to replace the cookbook and CD she'd taken from her Jeep.

  Relaxed, she sunk into the comfortable leather chair and kicked her shoes off under her desk. Pulling out a notepad and her calendar from the top right hand drawer, Cate began to make notes for the upcoming season.

  She scrawled A & N across the holiday season, frowning, reminded of Tom. Shaking her head, she jotted Vermont across the first week in December, doodling an elegant question mark on the second week. The three of them and Merry had always traveled north to snow, whenever possible, to start the season off in a festive spirit. At home, they were too close to the shore to see the accu
mulations that Al still loved to sled through. Nic could use the relaxation time, probably−it might prove to be inspirational, she thought. Cate could fit in a little cross country skiing. Smiling, she noted it all down.

  She'd make one more trip to the city for last-minute shopping. She'd buy books at B & N, stop in at the American Girl store, visit Dylan's Candy, and round out the trip with lunch and skating. She jotted notes around her schedule, planning ahead past the December hiatus, thinking about who she wanted to invite. Alex, of course. Maybe they'd make it a long weekend with a fancy hotel.

  Cate rested her chin in her hand, looking out the tall windows to the driveway. Soon, it would be filled with the vehicles of her children and their friends: Nic's Jeep, Alex's VW Beetle, and as many more as they could fit in. It would look like a car lot.

  She grinned; she absolutely adored the idea.

  In the new year, Cate flipped ahead, she'd be back to work and travel, with the new cookbook out. February was Florida, March: Texas and California, and in April she'd go to Tennessee and Louisiana. She'd do the shows Sylvia signed her for, as well as meet and greets and book signings. Her own shows would be taped in between. Cate stretched luxuriously. She loved sleeping in fancy hotels with freshly-made beds and rich accommodations. She loved visiting new places and finding fascinating restaurants. Her happiness came in meeting all kinds of new people.

  A bonus was when they told her what local places were fun to try. Cate loved to explore. She would shop, too−trying out small bookstores, checking out art, and searching for just the right treasures to bring home to Nic, Alex and even Merry. It was tradition, and tradition was important.

  Cate would round out her spring visiting with childhood friends in beautiful North Georgia. There she'd spend a few days curled up in a hotel, completely on vacation (so she said) before the long summer.

  She could be herself with Clark, Nan, Joan, and Eric.

  Cate took a minute to daydream of her favorite hotel. She thought of all the new restaurants they'd certainly visit. Usually, they'd meet at the indulgent pool soon after she arrived. When they got hungry, the party would retire to a late dinner. Cate would spend a day shopping with Joanie and Nan. (One of the two willing husbands would sometimes tag along.) The evenings would pass with the families−cooking, usually. They'd all gather in the kitchen at each of the homes for one night apiece, dining out only when they grew tired of making Publix runs. She also knew the group would twist her arm until she agreed to karaoke. When that happened, inevitably, the trip was ending.

  Until that time, however, the five friends would reminisce, catch up, laugh, tease, and relax. Usually a few hours in, tranquility would hit, then inspiration would follow. Clark always left vacation with new content for at least one more New York Times bestselling book or series. Joanie, his sister and assistant; Nan, his wife; Eric, who was married to Joanie; and Cate left enraptured and reprieved. Over two decades ago, as teenagers, they'd casually conspired a brain trust. Now they motivated each another easily, growing each other and their own companies as they talked.

  Later in the summer, her friends would venture up the coast to toast the Labor Day holiday near Cate's beach. She already knew they'd spend long nights on the deck, overlooking the shore, in front of the fireplace. They would cook, adding laughter and music. The sound of longtime friends together would be as enticing as the smells coming from Cate's kitchen. They'd venture out to both old hangouts and new. They might trip through the village or haunt the pier. And the group would certainly day-trip to watch the waves further east on the real shore, where Putnam Beach met the Atlantic.

  Cate sighed blissfully and leaned back to adjust the stereo. She missed her closest friends when they weren't with her, but she knew she only had to call and they'd answer. They'd just left, in fact, weeks before. Her heart was still warm from the delicious visit.

  Luke Bryan finished singing about a Dixie cup. When Jason Aldean's Burning It Down began, Cate raised the volume on the sound system. She allowed herself a blissful moment listening to his low voice, then moved to her computer and got to work.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Zac Brown was singing about being chicken-fried, and therefore, Cate was, too. She was sitting with her laptop, her feet, in cozy socks, tucked up under her. She was looking for show inspiration.

  Cate was always open to a new spice rack idea, one with an unusual size or shape, or one that fit naturally into a kitchen. She knew her precious viewers had varied needs–lots of room or no room; some wanted few spices; some (like Cate) had more than thirty spices on their rack at a time.

  On The Rack, she thought, what a great title for a cookbook. Cate sprang up, running to her office for blank paper and a pencil. She moved quickly, like a fairy. Her socks slid across hardwood floors that shone in the sunshine. As she skidded past the refrigerator, the tails of the t-shirt she wore flew behind her like wings.

  Back on the thick, sumptuous couch, pencil tucked behind her ear, Cate turned her attention back to the laptop. She knew some viewers liked their spices in a drawer while others preferred an eye-pleasing wall-mounted rack, for convenience. A few women she knew stashed their spices in their pantries or in a cupboard. She jotted a note, was she was missing anything?

  Cate wrote madly. She could do a whole show on spice racks. The different kinds that were sold, how to grow and dry your own spices. Make-your-own recipes, like Italian seasoning. Maybe she'd even throw in her theories about using sea salt and good, cracked pepper. Cate tapped the pencil against her lip, looking skyward, thoughtful. Yes, she would.

  That was a sign of a good relaxation, when the show ideas started to flow. Months ahead, she'd ask viewers to write in or call with their needs, and ask her sponsors to donate spices and racks for the audience. Picking a favorite, she'd hold a drawing online for the fans at home. Cate was devoted to her viewers, and she didn't miss an opportunity to let them know.

  She definitely needed to spend some time with a Williams-Sonoma catalog, researching. Cate chuckled: yes, researching. And relaxing, so the ideas continued to flow, she thought, as she hastily captured them in a messy scrawl.

  On Friday's show, Cate had made pizza dough. (She'd promised sweet dough, for pies, closer to Thanksgiving.) Back when she'd been a new host, she always found herself wondering who needed to know what. Cate had had a hard time deciding how much was too much advice−or not enough.

  Once she found her groove, Cate began a show by saying, “I'm talking to you like you don't even know where to find your kitchen. If you walk away understanding, I've done my job. If you're a regular chef, and you learn something today, that makes me happy. Thanks for tuning in.” She'd pause, smiling toward the camera, before her signature phrase, "Let's cook!”

  Cate had made the dough, walking the audience through the simple recipe, then set it aside to rise. Swapping the freshly-made dough for a pre-risen batch, she talked about 00 flour and how she'd come to know it. Her beautiful and loving friend Tomi, an expert cook and baker, had led Cate to it years before.

  "Zero zero not oh oh," Cate explained. "It's a finer flour that increases the elasticity of your dough." She rolled it out for all to see, speaking as she pressed the rolling pin to what was quickly becoming a respectably round pizza crust.

  "Tomi's pizzas−" Cate thought for a moment. She couldn't find a word descriptive enough. "They're beautiful. Perfect."

  She made a mental note to schedule another Cate's Friends episode. Wildly popular, they invited spin-offs and experiences for her dear group. Cate liked to tape the series' around the holidays. The shows brought a festive atmosphere; they relaxed and rejuvenated Cate. Plus she adored sharing her friends with her delighted and devoted fanbase.

  Carefully trimming and setting the edges with her fingers, Cate moved the extra dough aside. When the pizza was in the oven, Cate explained her Garbage Pizza. (Add leftover meat and vegetables−chicken, spinach, mushrooms, whatever she needed to use up−to about a quarter cup of fresh s
auce. Slice mozzarella into very small chunks and sprinkle along with a few teaspoons of finely chopped garlic and one tablespoon of fresh Parm. Voila−happy eating, Cate smiled.) It was one of the first recipes she'd ever created. She hated to waste food, especially back then, when money was tight.

  As she spoke, Cate rolled the extra dough into long, elegant fingers. Once the pretzels were shaped, she brushed them with egg white. Holding her hands over the pretty braids, Cate sprinkled coarse kosher salt over the finished dough. “You can use kosher salt. It's bigger and often better on pretzels because of its size. In a pinch though, sea salt, or even iodized salt, would work.

  I never want you to feel you can't make a recipe because you don't have all the ingredients. The more you cook, the more comfortable you'll become with substituting.

  Now, be careful with the sea or iodized salt. It's easy to use a lot, which isn't good. You can also cover the pretzels with cinnamon sugar, or chocolate glaze, or even caramel. A sauce for dipping is also fun. Try mustard, or something else spicy and yummy.”

  Cate glanced up from her work and smiled at the camera. Her eyes swept the audience. “Hummus?”

  They clapped on command as the stage manager encouraged them, waving his arms to elicit excitement.

  “I've got some freshly-made hummus. What do you think, yes?”

  The audience clapped again, talking amongst themselves in a quick burst.

  Cate walked to the enormous, stainless steel fridge and looked on her carefully organized shelves. In the cooler months, she used the expansive space for good. She'd organize a show with her mentors, encouraging them to share family recipes of comfort. The group would then cook and serve for anyone who needed warmth in their belly. Cate stored all the extra in the large refrigerator and passed it off to shelters when the show wrapped. She called the series Cook & Eat For The Hungry.

  The hummus was in a delicate Mason jar on the door. Cate spooned a small amount onto a pretty plate. Breaking off a piece of thick, crusty, warm pretzel, she dipped. Thoughtfully, she tasted, exaggerating her movements for the camera.