by Cindy Myers
“Gloria, I need you to do something for me.”
Gloria had passed a blissful afternoon in the stacks, daydreaming of the next day’s “date” with Jack, uninterrupted by anyone. She might have known such peace couldn’t last. She briefly closed her eyes and thought of sending up a prayer for God to save her from bossy old women. But what if God was on Cassie’s side? She opened her eyes and took a deep breath. Courage.
“What is it, Cassie?”
“I want you to approach Faye Anne Reynolds and recommend that she invite me to be part of her show at the Last Dollar.”
Had Cassie stayed up all night thinking of this one? Or had this stroke of genius just come to her? “I thought you were going to talk to Faye Anne yesterday.”
“I looked for her, but didn’t see her anywhere. She must have driven out of town for some reason.”
Or maybe she was avoiding you. “If you couldn’t find her, I don’t know how I’d have any better luck.”
“She’s filming at Lucille’s this morning. Something about interviewing Eureka’s ‘female mayor.’ As if her viewers are really going to be interested in that. Go talk to her and tell her I’m the perfect person to invite to her dinner.”
“Why would she care about my opinion? She doesn’t even know who I am.”
“That’s even better. Don’t tell her you work for me. You’re just an interested citizen of Eureka and fan of her show. You told me you watch her, right?”
Gloria nodded. “Every week.”
“Then be sure to mention that.”
“But won’t it seem odd if I suddenly bring you into the conversation?”
“Not at all. Tell her you heard she’s looking for people to be on the show and that you know someone who would be perfect. Tell her you saw me in the Founder’s Day pageant and were impressed with my stage presence, and that since I have acting experience, I’d be comfortable and wouldn’t make a fool of myself in front of the cameras like some people around here are likely to do.”
Clearly, she had stayed up planning this. “Maybe you should write this all down so I can just read it off to her,” Gloria said.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You want this to look spontaneous and natural. And be sure to give her this.” She handed Gloria an envelope.
“What is this?” She held the envelope away from her, as if it might contain explosives.
“It’s an eight-by-ten glossy of me in my costume for my role in the Founder’s Day play.”
“Dressed like your grandmother?”
“My great-grandmother. One of the founding citizens of Eureka. It proves I have acting experience.”
Gloria tried once more to hand back the photo. “Cassie, this plan is too creepy—like I’m some sick fan girl.” She shuddered.
“There’s nothing wrong with a young person admiring someone older,” Cassie said stiffly.
Except Gloria didn’t admire Cassie. She felt sorry for her, sometimes. She despised her other times. Most of the time she just wanted Cassie to go away and leave her alone.
“The people Faye Anne includes on the show aren’t actors,” she said. “They’re ordinary people.”
“You don’t know that,” Cassie said. “I bet they’re all actors. I read the papers, you know. Those people on reality TV are just as fake as anyone else. Real people look stupid in front of the camera. You have to know how to project and carry yourself.”
She struck what Gloria assumed was supposed to be a dramatic pose. Gloria bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
“I don’t want to do this, Cassie.” She was resorting to pleading, which she hated. But she didn’t have any options left. “You know I’m shy. I can’t talk to new people.”
Cassie stiffened. “I’m your boss and I’m ordering you to do this.”
Gloria opened her mouth to tell Cassie that pimping her to some visiting celebrity was not part of her job description, but the librarian’s next words stopped her. “I saw Faye Anne and that cameraman headed over to Lucille’s just a few minutes ago,” she said. “Hurry, or you’ll miss them.”
The thought of seeing Jack again was too much of a temptation to pass up. Of course, it was completely unrealistic to think that anything would come of their flirtation, but considering the dearth of handsome, single men in Eureka who showed any interest in her, she might as well enjoy herself while she could. Not to mention this ridiculous errand meant a morning out of the library but on the clock. She’d tell Faye Anne that Cassie had put her up to this, give her the picture, and be done with it. And maybe she’d exchange a few words with Jack—remind him of their date tomorrow afternoon.
“All right, Cassie. I’ll do it. But I have to run home and change first.”
“Why would you need to do that?”
Gloria looked down at her black slacks and print blouse combination—the kind of fade-into-the-background clothing she wore to work every day. Not the sort of thing to make a man notice her.
“I have to change,” she said again. “Like you said—it’s all about stage presence.”
“Oscar Dellencort says he may not be able to get us the lamb we need.” Janelle cradled the phone to her chest, a stricken look on her normally placid face.
“But he must have two hundred sheep.” Danielle pictured the wooly flock that grazed the high mountain passes every summer. “Isn’t this the time of year for lamb?”
“Some buyer out of Texas has dibs on all of them,” Janelle said. “He’s sorry, but the guy is paying top dollar and with the last two years being so slow, Oscar can’t afford to pass up a deal like this.”
Danielle slumped against the door frame. “I can’t blame him, but what are we going to do now?”
“I can get you a few young deer.” Bob Prescott, who’d been eating a late breakfast at a back booth of the Last Dollar, looked up from his plate. “Somebody from California would never know the difference.”
“Bob, deer aren’t in season,” Danielle said.
“What’s a little poaching among friends?” Bob mopped up the remains of his fried egg with a triangle of toast. “Besides, I’m smart enough not to get caught.”
“I’d know I wasn’t serving lamb, and all the locals at the table would, too,” Danielle said. “But thanks for the offer.” She turned to Janelle. “We’ll have to serve something else.”
“We could do trout,” Janelle said. “That’s available all year.”
Danielle worried her lower lip between her teeth. “With some kind of stuffing. I’ll have to experiment.”
“You’ll come up with something brilliant, I know.”
Danielle only wished she had Janelle’s confidence. She’d done so much experimenting in the kitchen lately, she was afraid she was going to run out of ideas.
The front door opened and Barb Stanowski, dressed in a vintage Pucci mini dress and matching coat, strode in, as if she’d just stepped off a Paris runway. “Good morning, girls. Hi, Bob.” She slid into the booth across from the old miner.
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Texas. What’s up, beautiful?”
“I was never Miss Texas. Only Miss Jefferson County.” She smiled up at Janelle and accepted a mug of steaming coffee. “Bless you, dear. I dream about your coffee.”
“Can I get you some breakfast?”
“No food. Just let me sit here and drink coffee long enough for Faye Anne Reynolds to think I’m accomplishing something.”
The mention of Faye Anne brought Danielle out of her recipe-creation stupor. “What is Faye Anne supposed to think you’ve accomplished?”
“I volunteered to redecorate the Last Dollar for her show.”
“She wants to redecorate?” Her voice squeaked and her breath felt stuck in her throat. She and Janelle had spent hours hanging every picture and every artifact on the walls of the Last Dollar. Sure, the black and white photographs, old skis, bear traps, mounted moose head, and singing trout might not look like much to an outsider—but every item had been donated by a patr
on of the restaurant. Everything in here had been a part of everyday life in Eureka, long before the Last Dollar even existed. In a nod to the town’s heritage, last fall Janelle and Danielle had paid Olivia Theriot to paint a mural on the back wall of the dining room, depicting a Native American, a miner, and a pioneer woman—all people who’d played an important role in establishing the town.
“Not redecorate, exactly.” Barb sipped her coffee. “I believe the word she used was ‘sprucing up.’ I told her I’d take care of it.”
“What are you going to do?” Janelle asked. The fingers of her right hand curled and uncurled; Danielle wouldn’t have been surprised if her partner suddenly snatched up a meat cleaver to defend their décor.
“I’m going to sit here and drink coffee and talk to you two, then tell Faye Anne it’s all taken care of.” Barb smiled. “When she finally bothers to come in and take a good look at the place, she’ll think I’m a genius.”
Danielle dropped into a chair. The stress was killing her. “Are you coming to the dinner?” she asked.
“It seems so. She invited me and Lucille at the same time.”
“Who else?” Janelle asked. “Do we know yet how many people are going to be at this dinner?”
“If you don’t know, I don’t,” Barb said. “Apparently, it’s a huge secret. Part of Faye Anne’s strategy for building excitement for the show.”
“Every other person who comes in wants an invitation,” Janelle said. “Yesterday, a man I’d never even met before offered me a hundred dollars if I could get him invited. I tried to explain that Faye Anne is in charge of the guest list, but I don’t think he believed me.”
“Faye Anne is in charge of everything,” Danielle said. “I’m surprised she’s not telling us what to cook—she’s such a control freak.”
“She’s so afraid something is going to go wrong, she doesn’t leave any room for surprises, even good ones,” Janelle said.
“I’m wishing now we’d never agreed to be on the show,” Danielle said. “It’s too stressful.”
“Everything will be fine,” Barb said. “Have you decided what you’re going to wear for your big shot at stardom?”
Danielle groaned. “I hadn’t even thought of it. Maybe Faye Anne will take that decision out of my hands, too. I can offer to let her look in my closet.”
“Whatever you wear, you’ll be beautiful,” Janelle said. “And our friends—whoever does get invited—will love the dinner. Focus on that, and not people we don’t even know watching.”
“I should do that, but it’s hard. I keep thinking of all those strangers looking on, judging us.”
“Don’t freak out about the things you can’t control and people you don’t know,” Janelle said. “Focus on doing what you love and everything else will fall into place.”
“Maybe we could print that on T-shirts and sell them,” Danielle said.
“I’ll get right on it.” She nudged Danielle toward the kitchen. “Now go cook. I’m going to try to find us some more lamb. And a bunch of fish. Just in case.”
CHICKEN AND DUMPLINGS
Ingredients:
1 whole chicken, cut into pieces
Salt and pepper
2 tablespoons flour
2 tablespoons butter
4 large carrots, thinly sliced
2 stalks celery, thinly sliced
½ cup chopped onion
2 quarts chicken broth
½ teaspoon ground thyme
½ teaspoon rubbed sage
2 cups flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon thyme
4 tablespoons cold butter
¾ cup milk
Directions
Sprinkle chicken pieces with salt and pepper and dredge in flour. Melt butter in a large Dutch oven and brown chicken in butter—about 10 minutes each side. Remove chicken from the pot and set aside.
Add chopped carrots, celery, and onion to pot and cook, stirring, until the vegetables begin to soften.
Return the chicken to the pot and add the chicken broth, thyme, and sage. Cover and simmer for 30 minutes.
Remove the chicken pieces from the pot and set aside to cool.
Combine flour, baking powder, salt, and thyme. Work in butter with a fork or pastry blender until the mixture is crumbly. Stir in milk to form a soft dough. If the mixture is too dry, add a little more milk.
Shred the chicken with a fork, removing skin and bones. Return chicken to the pot.
Drop spoonfuls of dough into the simmering soup. Cover and let simmer 20 minutes.
Chapter Five
Gloria spotted Faye Anne and Jack filming in front of Lacy’s. They’d stationed Lucille in a rocker on the front porch, a blooming geranium that must have spent the winter in someone’s front window beside her. Faye Anne perched on the edge of a straight-back chair that was probably right out of Lucille’s inventory. The sleet had stopped and the sun was out, though it was still chilly. As usual, Faye Anne wasn’t wearing a coat, though she had wound a red wool scarf around her neck and her red dress had long sleeves. Her hair was in corkscrew curls all over her head, reminding Gloria of an illustration of Goldilocks in one of the children’s books at the library.
She smoothed her denim skirt and adjusted the short leather jacket she’d found pushed to the back of her closet. What did it say about her that every item of clothing she owned—most purchased at the local thrift shop—screamed “librarian” or “elementary school teacher”? Unlike Faye Anne, Gloria didn’t own a single item of red clothing. The most daring outfit she possessed was a black beaded cocktail dress she’d worn when she’d dressed as a flapper for a Halloween costume party.
Not every man cared about fashion, right? She glanced at Jack’s olive-green cargo pants and black corduroy shirt worn open over a faded black T-shirt. Okay, so maybe even that was a step above the usual jeans and flannel shirts worn over long-underwear tops that was the winter uniform of most men in Eureka. In summer, they switched to jeans or cargo shorts and flannel shirts over T-shirts. What mattered wasn’t the clothes, but the person who wore them. She only hoped Jack felt the same way.
She picked her way around a puddle of melting sleet as she crossed the street to Lacy’s. Lucille waved and beckoned her over. “Faye Anne, this is Gloria Sofelli. She works at the library. Gloria, this is Faye Anne Reynolds.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Gloria’s cheeks burned. “I . . . I’m a big fan of your show.” Oh God, had she really stuttered? She wished the porch would give way and drop her down out of sight of the camera. She glanced toward the instrument that was capturing her humiliation and found Jack grinning at her. Somehow, his smile made her a little calmer. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said, turning back to Faye Anne and Lucille.
“I was just telling Faye Anne a little more about the town,” Lucille said.
“If you stop by the library, we’ve got maps and pictures that show the history of the place,” Gloria said. “The head librarian, Cassie Wynock, knows everything there is to know about Eureka history.” Was that really her talking? She’d worked that in very naturally, hadn’t she?
“I believe I met Ms. Wynock, my first day in town,” Faye Anne said. “She’s quite a, uh, forceful woman.”
“Every small town has certain personalities that stand out,” Lucille said. “Cassie is one of ours.”
“That’s one of the joys in working in small towns,” Faye Anne said. “You meet such interesting people.”
“Cassie is definitely interesting,” Gloria said. “And she’s very interested in the theater. Last fall she wrote, directed, and starred in a play about the founding of Eureka. It was quite the performance.”
“You could say that,” Lucille said. “Bob Prescott decided to shoot off fireworks at the end of the show and almost burned down the opera house.”
Faye Anne laughed—a delicate, ladylike titter. “I must meet this Bob Prescott. He sounds l
ike quite the character.”
“Oh yes. Bob is another one of our more eccentric residents,” Lucille said.
“About Cassie—” Gloria knew she’d done enough. She should just let the whole thing go, but she’d promised Cassie, and now that she wasn’t actually looking at her boss, she felt a little sorry for her. What would it hurt to give the old woman her moment in the spotlight by seating her at the table for the dinner scene at the Last Dollar? It wasn’t as if she would steal the show from a pro like Faye Anne Reynolds. Maybe Gloria should just come out and ask Faye Anne to invite Cassie. Faye Anne seemed like such a nice person. Gloria would plead with her to take pity on a lonely old spinster.
“Lucille! You’re just the person I need to see.”
Gloria didn’t have to turn around to know who was headed toward them. Cassie’s voice carried clearly in the morning stillness. While the other two watched the librarian walk toward them, Gloria kept her back turned, like a doomed prisoner who doesn’t want to face the firing squad.
When Cassie did step onto the porch to join them, Gloria winced. The librarian had traded her skirt and blouse for a black dress and heels. Nothing wrong with that, but she also wore a lace collar, pearls, eye makeup and bright red lipstick. The makeup, applied with a heavy hand on her plain, almost masculine features, made her look like a transvestite.
“What can I do for you, Cassie?” Lucille asked. The lines around the mayor’s mouth had deepened, as if she was trying hard to hold back a smile.
“I have an item I wanted to add to the agenda for the next town council meeting, but it can wait,” Cassie said. She turned to Faye Anne. “Are you enjoying your stay in Eureka?”
“Yes, I am,” Faye Anne said. “Everyone has been so nice and welcoming. And the weather is warming up. That’s wonderful.”