“Aren’t you jumping the gun just a tad?” Jasper asked.
Her chin jutted out, a petulant expression daring either man to say more. “Think positive thoughts, you two. It’s so much better on the spleen.”
Spleen? He doubted she knew where that body part was located, let alone what it did.
Jasper stood and leaned on Leonie’s desk, this time knocking over a small vase. A diminutive nosegay fell out, a thin river of water puddling around it. “Surely you’re not serious?”
She turned narrowed eyes, hard as emeralds, on Jasper. “Of course, I am. The sooner you accept this change, the sooner we can get the new show underway. It will probably take me awhile to feel comfortable with this improvisational format,” a hand drifted to her hairdo, “but I’ve always been pretty good with the spontaneous.”
Jasper’s fist hit the desk. “Good God, woman, listen to yourself! You plan and overplan. I’ll bet you know how many steps it is from the elevator door downstairs to your waiting car. This format is not for you. You’ll be in over your head.”
“That’s not your call, Jasper. I can handle it.”
“And the banter? It worked between Reese and Nick because there was this ongoing sexual innuendo underlying their exchanges.”
“Uh, Jasper, I wouldn’t go that—” Nick interjected.
“Far? Well, I would, Nick. You’re a fool if you continue to deny the way you two heated up the kitchen.”
“They did nothing of the sort,” Leonie protested. “Nick is a very good actor.”
“Open your eyes, Leonie,” Jasper challenged. Then he stopped, seemed to consider something. “On the other hand, your eyes have been open and alert all along, haven’t they? You saw what was happening between our two hosts and didn’t like it. So you set out to get rid of her. You’re the one who fed that damning information to that
FoodNation
reporter.”
Through hooded eyes resembling a cobra about to strike, Leonie said, “Excuse me?”
“Don’t play innocent about your sabotage. To your own show, for God’s sake!” Jasper shouted. His face had taken on the color of Leonie’s garnet red nails.
“Is that true, Leonie?” Nick asked.
Jasper’s breath came heavily. “Of course it is. Look at her. She’s not denying it.”
“Calm down, Jasper. Why must I keep reminding you that this is my show? I’ll do what I must to keep it healthy.”
Jasper drew in a long, choking breath. “Healthy? You don’t do sick things to promote health, Leonie. You’ve made one poor decision after another, and you treat your crew miserably.”
Leonie stroked the diamond pendant dangling from her neck. “You knew who I was and what I was when you signed on, Jasper. It’s a little late for you to adopt that holier-than-thou attitude.”
“You helped me through those bitter years after Jane’s death. I thought if I stuck around, looked the other way, I could help you realize your dreams. But the price is too high.”
Nick blinked in surprise. The older man got angry from time to time, but not like this. “What are you saying, Jasper?”
“Good-bye,” he replied, in a cooler, calmer voice and turned toward the door.
“Where are you going? I haven’t dismissed this meeting yet,” Leonie called.
“Check my contract.” He switched his attention to Nick. “Maybe she’s got you convinced you can’t leave her, but not me. I quit.” He slammed the door behind him.
Neither of the room’s two remaining occupants said anything for what seemed an interminable length of time. Finally, Leonie broke the silence. “Can you believe that?”
“No,” Nick replied in a hushed tone, envying the other man. “I never thought he’d leave.”
Leonie shook her head. “He’s bluffing. Trying to make a statement.”
“Should I go after him?”
“Darling, you can barely get around. Don’t worry about Jasper. He’ll be back.”
Nick wasn’t so sure. He’d never seen Jasper so upset and determined. The old man wasn’t one to go off on tangents. Nick pulled at his collar. The room felt stifling. He also made for the door.
“Where are you going? I told you to let Jasper be for now.”
He turned back. She was sitting at her desk like a monarch receiving her subjects. She didn’t appear the least bit upset about Jasper’s departure. “Need to clear my head. I’ll be back later.” He didn’t give her a chance to reply. Nor did he care when or if they taped the week’s episode.
He had no idea where he was going, only that he had to get away. Make his head stop spinning. The events of the last hour were mind-boggling. Events he’d set in motion and now had to deal with.
He went immediately to the small fridge in his dressing room and retrieved a can of soda. He guzzled over half before he set it down to take a breath. This was all his fault. He didn’t have the balls to walk away from Leonie and the show. So he’d jumped at the chance to bring a possible substitute on board, not caring what effect his actions might have on her. He’d romanced her, gone to bed with her, even begun to open up to her, but the minute she needed him to come to her defense, he’d turned in a lackluster performance.
So now he had what he wanted—half of it at least—with Leonie in front of the camera. And his half included what she wanted; the network was at least interested in the show. But it was the half they didn’t have—Reese, now Jasper, and a firm commitment from the network—that concerned him.
He looked around for a note. Surely Reese would have left him something? Even if it was to tell him what a jerk he was. With which he totally agreed.
Nothing. He checked his phone messages. Again nothing.
Should he call her? And do what? Beg her to come back?
Damn her! Why had she turned out to be like every other woman in his life except Leonie? Why hadn’t she given him one more chance to talk her out of leaving?
The one thing he wanted more than anything, save possibly a life with Reese, which was impossible now, was to leave the show. And the last thing he could do right now, thanks to Leonie’s latest harebrained scheme, was leave the show.
Chapter Twenty-One
As Reese’s cab pulled up to her parents’ home early Saturday morning, she caught a glimpse of her mother behind the house attending to her garden. Good sign. She could test the waters with her mother before facing the full Grandquist clan.
She paid the driver, left her bag on the front porch and cut behind the front hedges to greet her mother. “Your garden is in better shape than ever this year, Mom,” she said, giving her a hug.
Maureen Grandquist wiped a hand across her forehead, pulling errant bangs away from her eyes. “Reese! I didn’t expect you for another hour. The boys aren’t even back from the gym.”
“That will give me time to catch you up on a few things first. You can help me decide how much to tell the rest of the family.”
Eyes widening, her mother asked, “Good news or bad? Do I need to sit?”
She had to chuckle at her mother’s go-for-it attitude. The woman was never one to back down from a crisis. “I’m not sure which. That’s why I need your input.” Noting her mother’s arched brow, she added, “Just in case, let’s move over to the patio table.”
Once they were seated, Reese plunged immediately into the events of the last few days, omitting the part about Nick’s lack of cooking skills. She was still processing what to do about that little tidbit and wasn’t ready to discuss it yet with anyone else, even her mother. Focusing on Leonie’s role in the
FoodNation
embarrassment, she finished with, “I almost had it out with that witch then and there, but Nick and Jasper talked me down. The more I thought about it during the day, though, I realized I couldn’t continue working for people I can’t trust. Who knows what she would’ve done next to undermine me.”
“Of course you couldn’t remain,” her mother told her, grasping her hand. “I’m just sorry this came so close on the heels of your disappointment at
Solange
.”
She bowed her head. “Me, too. After
Solange,
I told myself I’d never walk out on a job again. But this can’t be helped.”
Her mother’s eyes brightened, like the sun coming over a hill in the morning. “That means you can unveil your own show sooner.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Maybe Elliott too.”
“You know that Elliott and I, and the boys too, are behind you.” The gardener leaned forward, palms planted on her denim-covered thighs. “How can we help?”
Reese squeezed her eyes to keep from tearing up. She was so lucky to have such family support. To think, she’d resented Elliott and the boys when she was younger. Before she figured out what it meant to be a member of a real family after ten years as the only child of parents who didn’t love each other.
“Last night, after a glass of wine and a long, soapy bath, I dried my tears and assessed my situation. Suddenly, going forward with my own cooking show has become a very real possibility.”
“How do you feel about that? Scared?”
She considered. “A little, but also excited. Stoked, the boys would say.” She paused, because this next part required diplomacy, the kind of thing she didn’t usually do well. “Putting together a demo this weekend is just the start. Beyond that, I need a comprehensive plan. Fast. First and foremost, though, I have to figure out how to handle financing.”
“Elliott and I would be hap—”
She stuck up a hand. “I know what you’re going to say, and as much as I appreciate the thought, that wasn’t where I was going.”
“Oh? Then where?”
“I’ve been putting a little away each payday for the last few years. I’ve got enough to keep my apartment and feed myself for another year. Or I can run my own production company for about half that time.” She gazed down at her folded hands and then back at her mother. “But I can’t do both.”
Her mother cocked her head. “I don’t understand. If you chose the first option, how would get your show produced?”
“I’d be maintaining my base in the city and have ready access to potential backers. But I’d probably have to give up the kind of control I want.”
“And the other option?”
Reese looked directly into her mother’s coffee brown eyes. “Move home and set up operations here.”
“That sounds like an obvious solution. Especially since you have a ready-made production company under this roof.”
She bit her lip. “Uh, that’s my dilemma. If I’m going to produce my own show, I have to pursue the project wholeheartedly, twenty-four seven. Even if all of you were available to do that as well, I can’t ask you to. You have your own lives to think about.”
Her mother flicked away an insect that had the temerity to fly near her ear. Reese recognized the tactic. Her mother knew she was holding back her real reason for being concerned and was waiting for her to share the rest of the story. Bowing to the inevitable, she continued. “Okay. What I’m really trying to say is, if I’m going to make this work, I need a professional staff. A bunch of amateurs is all very well for making a demo, but the demands of producing a top-notch cooking show are beyond all of you.”
She emitted a sigh so heavy, she scared away the pesky insect that had harassed her mother. “There! Now I’ve told you. I hate myself for saying it, but if I didn’t—”
“Your show would suffer,” her mother finished for her. With her index finger, she tipped Reese’s chin up so they were both looking straight into the other’s eyes. “Shame on you, young lady. Don’t you think we’ve already thought of that?”
“You have?”
“Don’t go getting offended, but yes, Elliott and I have already talked to the boys about this venture. We nudged you into seeing that your own cooking show was as natural a career step for you as baking a cake from scratch. And we’ll all be there for you to make this demo. But once you’re off and running, we’ll back off.”
“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.”