A Taste of Fame

by Linda Evans Shepherd

  I nodded. She was probably right about that. “Go shower,” I said. “Tomorrow is another day, and there’s nothing we can do about it today.”

  Lizzie scoffed lightly. “Tomorrow is today,” she said, then retreated to the bathroom.

  The next morning, as soon as we’d slipped into the clothes we were going to wear to the studio, I dialed Lisa Leann’s cell number while Lizzie dialed Vonnie’s, summoning the girls to our room.

  “Should we call the guys?” I asked.

  Lizzie shook her head. “I’m not so sure it’s proper to have them in our room.”

  Propriety, as far as I could see, had taken a flying leap out the window.

  Minutes later the girls were all gathered in our room and Lizzie repeated what she’d told me the night before. I thought Vonnie was going to faint. She turned whiter than Summit View in a blizzard. Donna reached for her and guided her to a nearby chair. “Sit, Von,” she said. Then to me, “Can you get a glass of water for her?”

  That Donna may be still a young thing, but she sure has a mature and commanding presence in a crisis. I complied with her command. I shot a quick look toward Lisa Leann, whose face and hair had managed to accomplish the same in color. “This one is going to stroke out,” I said, pointing to her.

  Evie motioned for Lisa Leann to take a seat on the rumpled covers of my bed. “Goodness, Lisa Leann,” she said.

  Once everyone was over the initial shock, Lisa Leann took her usual position of authority. “We’ve got to do something.”

  “And just what do you suggest?” Evangeline asked.

  “We’ll go to Kat,” she said. “That’s what we’ll do.”

  “And then what?” Lizzie interjected. “I’ve been thinking about this all night—as the bags under my eyes can attest. Believe me, I’ve thought of every angle. If we go to Kat … what if she already knows? Amy is her assistant, after all. If Kat is in on this and they find out that we know, they’ll make sure we’re done for.”

  “What if we’re already done for?” Vonnie asked.

  Dear Vonnie. Of course she’d be the one to think of that possibility.

  Lisa Leann grabbed her oversized purse from the floor where she’d dropped it upon arrival. It was gold lamé, decorated with large gold and silver-rimmed rhinestones. I wondered fleetingly if this was one of the bootlegged purses she and Evie had purchased before our arrival.

  Oh, dear. What an argument that had caused between Donna and Evangeline. Not to mention Donna and Lisa Leann. I thought Donna was going to arrest them both, haul them down to One Police Plaza (which I know about because of watching Law and Order), or at the very least force them to take her to the place where they’d made their big purchase so she could bring down the house, so to speak.

  But she didn’t … though she just may yet.

  “I’m calling Nelson,” Lisa Leann was saying.

  I looked at Lizzie, who said, “It’s okay. She’s his mother, after all.”

  Lisa Leann looked perplexed, but then again, who didn’t at that moment.

  Five minutes later, Wade, David, and Nelson strolled through the door and into the room of women all set to pounce with the news.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Nelson said while holding his hands over his ears. “One at a time, please.” I chuckled at the way he enunciated every word as though it were a sentence unto itself. He dropped his hands and glared at his mother. “Mother? Can you explain this in a simple sentence?”

  “No,” Lisa Leann said honestly. “But I think Lizzie might be able to do so.”

  Lizzie repeated what I had now heard three times. The boys took the news differently than we girls had. They paced a moment, exchanged glances, leaned against the wall, then shrugged.

  “Okay,” Nelson said. “Here’s what I think. I think we don’t have enough evidence. But, with a little investigating on my part and Wade’s and David’s … well, we just might have something, ladies.”

  “What about us? What kind of investigating should we do?” Evie asked.

  “Uh-uh,” Donna said, taking a step toward her. “You stay out of this.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I could practically see the hairs on the back of Evangeline’s head standing straight out.

  “Leave it to the guys, Evie. We have to continue to do what we’re doing. Besides, Dad and the rest of the men will be here later today, right?” She glanced around the room.

  “Yes,” I said. “I spoke with Jack last night. They should be here around three or four this afternoon. They’re catching the same flight time we did last week.” Last week? Had we only been a week?

  “Personally,” Donna said, “I think you should let Dad and me handle the investigating.”

  “She’s right,” Lizzie said, then added a moan. “Oh goodness,

  I never called Samuel last night. With all the excitement, I just forgot.”

  “There’s one other thing,” I said, hating to have to add any more distressing news.

  “What’s that?” Lisa Leann asked.

  I gave my best sympathy look to Donna, then glanced over to Wade. “Your mother will be with the men this afternoon on the plane.”

  “My mother?” Wade exclaimed.

  “His mother?” Donna coughed out.

  The two looked at each other while we all looked at them. Wade was clearly shocked and Donna was obviously furious.

  “Well,” she finally said, “isn’t that just great? Just wonderful. Just peachy.”

  She stormed through the crowd of us, jerked the door open, and then stomped out of it. When the door had closed behind her I looked to Wade, but not without catching David’s face.

  David looked like the cat who’d swallowed the canary.

  We had a quick breakfast downstairs in the restaurant called New York Marketplace. I ordered their Belgian waffle with fresh fruit on the side. After a quick run back to our rooms to brush our teeth and then gather for prayer, we jumped in the limo waiting out front and headed for the studio. There, we went through the usual wardrobe and makeup and hair, then silently strolled down the hallways and to the main auditorium, where a few of the other teams had already been seated. I quickly noted that the Wild Cajun Cooks were not among those who’d already made it.

  But Comfort Cooking was, so I broke from my group and went over to theirs. “Hello, girls,” I said. “I’m Goldie, as you probably already know, and I just wanted to tell you that I’m also from Georgia.”

  “Oh?” one of the ladies said, sitting up straight like I’m sure her mama taught her to. She lightly touched the hollow of her throat with her fingertips, and I noted the sheen of red painted on manicured nails. “Whereabout?” Her perfectly arched brow rose a hint. There was nothing—and I do mean nothing—out of place about this woman. I remembered all the proper ladies I’d been exposed to as a child and young adult. My mother had been anything but pretentious, but my sister Diane could out-snob the biggest snob of all.

  I was more like my mother.

  “Alma,” I said.

  There is a vast difference in Alma, Georgia, and Savannah, Georgia. Alma is primarily an agricultural community with streets named things like Soybean Road. Savannah boasts a population of 150,000 with streets named Victory Drive and Harry Truman Parkway.

  “Oh,” the woman said, then smiled, showing perfectly white, perfectly straight teeth. I thought she was going to make some snide remark, but instead she said, “My mama’s family came from Douglas, not too far away.”

  “Really?” I felt myself beaming. “Who are your people?”

  Before she could answer, I heard Kat Sebastian’s voice instructing all six teams to come up to the stage and stand in clusters. “Team members with team members,” she said.

  I glanced around. “Where is she?” I asked.

  My new friend (and, who knows, probable cousin) stood and said, “Mercy me. Who knows. Probably in the sound booth somewhere.” She looked to her comrades. “Come on, girls. Let’s see if we’re in or out
.” She smiled at me again and winked. “Good luck, now.”

  “To you too,” I said.

  “Goldie!” I heard Lisa Leann before I saw her. She and the others were pulling their pink bib aprons over their heads. Lisa Leann was extending mine toward me, all the while heading in my direction faster than a train running way behind schedule.

  “I’m coming! I’m coming!” I said.

  I slipped on my bib apron and ran up the steps and to our place for the filming of the elimination. The cameras slid into place. The cameramen, wearing headsets with microphones, were speaking to each other and to the producers and director. Everyone else scurried into place. I leaned over from my position to check out the others. The Wild Cajun Cooks had just sauntered in, looking cool and collected.

  Well, no wonder.

  Kat Sebastian’s voice boomed from the great beyond. “About time, boys!”

  I glanced up to the sound booth. Kat stood behind the glass, hands on her hips. Like Donna, she was young, but she sure was feisty. I decided there and then she had no idea about Amy and Bubba.

  Bubba. I wondered what his mother had really named him.

  Bubba called back, “Laisez les bons temps rouler!” Then he laughed heartily.

  “Look here, Bubbs,” Kat shot back. “If you think that impresses me, you’ve got another think coming.”

  “I merely said—” The smile held on his face, even as Kat interrupted him.

  “I know what you said. Let the good times roll. Well, hear this: we can’t let the cameras roll until you all get here. Capiche?”

  “She’s hot when she’s hot, no?” Bubba said to one of his team members.

  I looked from Lizzie to Lisa Leann, then to Donna, to Evie, to Vonnie, and finally to the boys. It felt like we were in on Watergate, even before Woodward and Bernstein.

  Then a shudder went through me when Kat said, “Team Potluck, pay attention now.” Now I felt like a fifth grader called to attention by her teacher.

  After a few minutes of buzzing around, everyone came to order, and Gianne came floating out, all five-feet-eleven of her. Her thick blonde hair fell in waves down her back, which was exposed due to the lack of material on her sequined dress. “Hello, lovelies,” she said to our group, which stood stage right, a term I now knew meant to the left. Specifically we were standing down right, meaning we were near the stage’s apron, closest to the wings. Next to us was Team Batter Up followed by Team Tex Mex. We were the six remaining groups from the week before. Moving to stage left was Team Hollywood, Comfort Cooking, and finally, Wild Cajun Cooks.

  Gianne then winked at our boys. “Hello, gorgeous,” she said in her best Barbra Streisand voice. “And gorgeous and gorgeous.”

  After a few minutes more, the director said, “In five-four-threetwo …” and Gianne stopped flirting and got to work. “Hello, America! Our caterers have plotted and planned and performed to perfection. You, America, have voted! And today we have our winners.”

  I felt my heart beating behind my eardrums, nearly drowning out anything else the leggy woman was saying. Beginning with Wild Cajun Cooks, she discussed what they’d cooked and then said, “Let’s see that video tape.”

  “Okay, cut!” the director yelled. “Gianne, stand next to the ladies from Savannah, please.”

  Gianne complied and the director said, “In five-four-threetwo …”

  Gianne smiled at my new friend. “Comfort Cooking Team is from Savannah, Georgia. Judy, tell me: how are you ladies feeling today about your chances?”

  “Well,” Judy said slowly, “we’re thinking they’re pretty good. We’re just thankful to the good Lord that he’s brought us this far and hope for more weeks to come.”

  She beamed toward the camera, and I beamed toward Lisa Leann. “A believer,” I mouthed.

  Gianne seemed a little taken aback, but she quickly recovered, looked up toward the rafters, and said, “Well, we’ll see …” Then back to the camera. “Okay, America. Let’s see what happened last time with our Ladies of Comfort.”

  “Cut!”

  Gianne moved to Team Hollywood. After the teams had been interviewed, Gianne took center stage and looked into the camera and waited for her cue. The director said, “In five-four-threetwo …”

  “America, the moment you’ve been waiting for is almost here. Which team will leave us and which teams, Team Tex Mex, Team Batter Up, Team Hollywood, Comfort Cooking, the Wild Cajuns, or Team Potluck, will continue on to compete for the title?” She then moved toward our clustered team. “But before we announce the winner, we’d like to share a heartwarming story with you.” She looked directly at Lizzie. “Lizzie Prattle?”

  Lizzie bristled beside me. “Me?” she asked.

  “Yes, you.” She tilted her head and winked. “Can you step forward, please?”

  Lizzie did as she was told but not without cutting her eyes and locking them with mine. I read them easily. Uh-oh. Maybe they knew what we knew. Maybe they were going to put Lizzie on the spot. Make her tell about Bubba and Amy.

  Maybe.

  Evangeline

  22

  Chilling Note

  I think we all held our breath, if you want to know the truth of it. Every one of us Potluckers standing on that stage was thinking the same thing: They’re gonna make her talk.

  I watched as Gianne brought Lizzie center stage and then said, “Tell us a little about yourself, Lizzie.”

  I’ve known Lizzie for a lot of years, so let me just say right here and now, that woman was very uncomfortable. She has never liked having the spotlight on her.

  “My name is Lizzie Prattle,” Liz began. “I guess you all know that.” She smiled. So nervous, God bless her. “I’m married. I’m a wife, mother, grandmother …”

  “Tell us about your children, Lizzie,” Gianne coaxed. “Tell us specifically about your youngest daughter.”

  “Michelle?”

  Michelle?

  “Well, she’s married to a nice young man and—”

  “Michelle is hearing impaired, is she not?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you communicate using sign language, is that not correct?”

  I was beginning to see where this was going. And by Lizzie’s body language, so was she. “Yes,” she said.

  Gianne looked at the camera. “America, last evening our cameraman— unbeknownst to Lizzie here—was in the hotel’s lobby when this occurred.”

  The director yelled “cut” again, and then Kat called out from the sound booth. “Lizzie?”

  Everyone’s attention went to Kat, who I noticed now had Amy standing next to her. “What you did last night was quite special. Our viewers will see you helping the young couple by using sign language, then show the three of you getting in a cab and riding over to Le Parker Meridian.”

  “I didn’t see—” Lizzie began, but Kat cut her off.

  “Our cameraman? Well, of course you didn’t. They’re good at their jobs. They didn’t follow you inside but were still there when the three of you came out. We’ve interviewed the young couple with the aid of one of our staff who also signs, and we’ll have them as special guests on our next show.” Even from where we stood I could see Kat smiling. I could also see the look on Amy’s face, and it wasn’t a happy one. I nudged Lisa Leann and with my eyes signaled that she should pay attention to what I saw.

  That Lisa Leann is sharp. She caught on, said, “Got it,” and then returned her attention to Kat.

  Gianne motioned for Lizzie to return to our group, then turned back to the camera, and after her cue, said, “Well done, Mrs. Prattle. Now for the elimination. America, prepare yourselves. Unbeknownst to our teams, this will be a double elimination. Two of our teams will not go forward after today. Who will it be? I’ll have the results right after this break.”

  We cut, and large envelopes were brought out to Gianne. And there we stood, awaiting our fate. Five minutes later, and we knew what I could have easily predicted, seeing as the young couple was coming to th
e filming of the next show. We were “in.”

  Team Hollywood and Comfort Cooking were out.

  That meant Team Tex Mex, Team Batter Up, Wild Cajuns (no shock there), and Team Potluck would be competing in the next show.

  After the two losing teams were escorted from the stage—with Comfort Cooking dabbing at their eyes along the way—Gianne announced the next event. “Here is your assignment, teams,” she said. “You will cater a fashion show. Again you have two thousand dollars and only a few days to cook up something wonderful. You will be contacted by the designer assigned to your group by no later than five this evening.” She grinned, then with a smile said, “But, in addition to preparing the food, you will also be responsible for creating a theme and working alongside the designer.” Again she smiled. “Well, don’t just stand there, teams! Go!”

  “Well, it’s no wonder,” I said to the girls. We’d gathered in the room I was sharing with Lisa Leann while the men headed to the airport to pick up our fellows … and Faye Gage. “Absolutely no wonder at all. We all know that Comfort Cooking should not have been eliminated. If I were to guess according to the show, I would have bet my Aunt Martha’s money on Wild Cajuns getting the boot.”

  Vonnie looked at me from one of the chairs. She looked one part worried and two parts perplexed.

  Dear heavens, I’m starting to think like a cook!

  “Evie,” Vonnie said, “do you even have an Aunt Martha?”

  I did not. “That’s not the point, Vonnie, and you know it.”

  Lisa Leann was pacing. She held a pink pen with feathers on the tip in her right hand, which she used to bop herself in the head. “Think, ladies. We have to think.”

  “You mean about Bubba and Amy?” Goldie asked.

  “Goodness, no. We’ll deal with them later. We’ve got until five o’clock to come up with a theme for the fashion show.”

  “Are you planning to stay within the movie theme thingy?” Donna asked. She was stretched out on the bed, legs crossed at the ankles, shoes kicked off, black socks covering her feet, which she wiggled from time to time.