by Kate Jacobs
22
When Sunday morning arrived, it seemed to Gus as though a lifetime had gone by since playing tag even though it had only been twenty-four hours. She’d barely slept all night, worried about her daughters, her finances, her future.
“You’re fine, you’re fine,” she told herself, a familiar refrain she used to repeat to herself when she cleaned the house after a long day at The Luncheonette.The puffy face she saw in the mirror proved otherwise.
She dressed quickly, or at least she tried to, but somehow she ended up being the last person down to the lobby. Everyone was milling about until Gary Rose came bustling up, his clipboard swinging. Close on his heels was a plumpish, dark-skinned woman, her hair pinned in an updo.
“I see you found us a yoga expert,” Troy said to Gary. He had a huge lump on his head but was fine otherwise.
“Who is the yoga teacher?” asked the woman.
“Not you?”
“No, no, I am Priya Patel,” she said, beaming broadly. “I am Gus Simpson’s biggest fan.”
“The contest winner,” prompted Porter. “You know, the new participant on Eat Drink and Be. In our effort to make things smoother on set, Alan and I decided it would be best that you all meet Priya before we shoot again. We don’t want any personality conflicts on air.”
Carmen snickered.
Porter cleared his throat. “Priya, welcome. Everybody ...”
“Hello, Priya,” said the group in unison. They’d been well trained after a day with Gary.
“So you must be good at karate,” she said to Troy, who looked at her strangely. “Well, you assumed I am good at yoga; I am assuming you are good at karate.”
“That’s stupid,” he said.
“Quite precisely yes,” said Priya.
“Point taken,” said Troy. “So we can be bad at yoga together. I’ve never done it before.”
“Oh, no, I’m very good at yoga, in fact,” Priya said. “They offer it at my gym. It’s free with the membership.”
“But I thought you just said that—”
“Just making a point. One must never assume.”
“I have a feeling,” Gus said, walking over to join Priya and Troy, “that you’ll quite enjoy your hour on the show with us, Priya. I think you’ll fit in just fine.”
After they had all properly twisted and turned their way through various poses, Gary had an instructor take the “gang” on a group hike through a beautiful section of forest.
“You should know where your buddy is at all times,” he explained. “We don’t want anyone wandering off now.”
Priya was quite excited to see Gus waving at her. Would the two of them become buddies? She could think of nothing more splendid. “And then we went walking together,” she could imagine herself saying to Raj later that night. “She loved my recipe for banana mousse pie, said it sounded delicious.” And he would be impressed and agree, finally, that it was a very good thing for her to be on television. You were right, he would say, to apply to that contest even when I told you not to.
She waved back vigorously.
“Did you meet Hannah at yoga?” Gus asked Priya as she neared. “Why don’t the two of you do the hike together?”
The redheaded woman in the ponytail and hooded sweatshirt smiled shyly.
“Hi,” she said softly. “Do you know who I am?”
“Of course!” Priya watched with disappointment as Gus was paired off with the tall, bald man. Now what would she tell Raj? “You’re the one who put out the fire,” she said to the redhead. “I watched that segment several times.”
The last thing she wanted was for anyone to think she hadn’t been payingattention.
“I used to play tennis,” pressed Hannah.
“Well, that’s very nice,” Priya said, trying to keep an eye on Gus as the entire group moved farther away from the resort’s buildings. She was relieved when the bald man handed Gus a red ball cap and she put it on. It looked very cute with her bob, Priya thought, and made her much easier to spot. “Exercise is good for you.”
“I used to play professionally,” Hannah said, feeling ever more confident that this woman not only had no idea who she was but simply didn’t care.
“Do you know that we will typically have over five different careers in our lifetime?” replied Priya. “That’s from a study I read on the Internet.”
“How many have you had?”
“Two,” said Priya. “I used to be an engineer before I had kids.”
“You’re a stay-at-home mom?”
“Yes. It’s very important work, very necessary and therefore fulfilling.” Her voice was flat and she sounded as if she was reading a speech off an index card.
“Well, you certainly seem . . . happy,” Hannah said weakly.
“How did you get on the show?” Priya asked abruptly.
“I live next door to Gus.”
“Really?” Priya stopped walking. “That must be wonderful, living next to Gus. Do you go to her world-famous parties?”
“I don’t know if they’re world famous, but I’ve been to a few. I don’t really get out that much, though.”
Up ahead, Oliver was pointing out a red bird in a tree to Gus and she could hear Gus’s laughter float all the way down the line of hikers, over Carmenand Aimee and Sabrina and Porter and Troy and Gary. That’s what she needed, a little bit of Gus’s joie de vivre that she could bottle up and bring back to Jersey, to sprinkle around when she was sad. She had never expected that being at home would be so much harder than working in an office. There were no promotions, no raises, no vacations. Just a group of people who wanted, wanted, wanted from her. No one had ever asked Priya if she wanted to be the heart of the home. It was simply her birthright. Her own mother had told her so.
Gus knew how to make a happy home: anyone could see that just by watching her on television. Priya had been surprised by how much she liked watching her because, up until the day she saw Gus on TV, she had strenuouslyavoided all those channels with perky hosts baking muffins and planningparties. But Gus was the real deal.
It was Raj’s fault, really. He had left the television on because he thought it would help, the day after he’d found her lying on the floor of the walk-in closet, crying her eyes out. I don’t know what’s wrong, she told him, and he had sat down with her, right there in the closet, and held her hand. Don’t worry, he said, the malaise will go. We’ll just think good thoughts and the bad feelings will simply melt away. We can all afford a bit of patience, she had heard Raj tell her mother on the telephone, let’s have a little wait-and-see.
But the feelings didn’t go away. They hardened into an invisible lump that only Priya could feel, absorbing all the joy she knew she was supposed to be experiencing. Why couldn’t she delight in all she had? Other women felt that way. Would look at her big tidy home and her healthy children and tell her to just get over herself. She’d said the same words to her mirror image a million times over. The disconnect between the truth in her heart and the way her mind told her she should be feeling left her exhausted and defeated.
“You’re so lucky,” she sighed. “To be able to have a friend like Gus.”
“If we run, we could catch up to her,” Hannah suggested, wanting mainly to savor this last chance to jump around in the open air. She felt conflicted, part of her brain craving the familiar routine back at the carriage house and the other part starting to feel angry that she’d frittered away so much time in hiding. “Let’s move,” she shouted, jogging on the spot.
“Oh, yes,” Priya said, very glad she’d worn sneakers after all. She’d been nervous about getting dressed that morning, Raj nattering at her as she changed out of a navy suit and even considered wearing a sari. Certainly the email from Porter Watson had specified casual clothing but seeing as she was only coming up to the resort for the day—and it was to be her introductionto Gus—she had spent a long time choosing an outfit that seemed quite right. She’s not really your friend, Raj had said, and she won
’t care what you wear, which Priya thought was more unkind than was necessary. Of course not, she’d told him, Gus hasn’t even met me yet.
In the end, she opted for khakis and a long cardigan, just like the sweater Gus had worn on the last episode of Eat Drink and Be. She had recognized immediately when the show aired that Gus was trying out a bit of a different style, and Priya wanted very much to support her in her fashion choices.
“Let’s move,” she repeated, though Hannah was already far, far ahead.
Carmen watched Hannah dash On by, her ponytail bobbing as she weaved her way around the members of the group, followed a few beats later by the contest winner, her khakis straining a bit over her well-padded derriere.
“This isn’t a race,” she called out after them. She and Aimee had, withoutdiscussing anything, agreed to exert themselves as little as possible. They weren’t about to jog an inch.
“I’m sure Hannah’s running over to talk to my mom,” said Aimee. “As usual.”
“I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait until this weekend is over,” Carmensaid. Alan had left shortly after dinner, and she and Oliver had stayed up late in the bar, enjoying a good bottle of cabernet, talking about old times. She’d suggested a second bottle but he declined and went up to his room. Alone.
“You’re burning a hole in the back of Oliver’s head,” said Aimee. “It wasn’t my choice to be your partner, you know.”
“Don’t have a problem with you,” Carmen said testily. She tilted her head toward Aimee. “What are you doing watching Oliver so closely anyway? Do you like him?”
“Yeah,” said Aimee. “He’s a good guy. I think he might work well with someone I know.”
“Aha!” Carmen elbowed her in the ribs, rather aggressively, in an attempt at chumminess. “You mean yourself,” she said. “Are you . . . interested? He and I go back a ways.”
“No,” said Aimee. “Not my type, really.”
“He’s good-looking. Likes to cook. Quite adventurous in the bedroom.”
Aimee threw her a look of surprise. “Too much information here, thanks,” she said.
“So who are you looking for, then?”
“Anyone who isn’t a fan of my mother or in love with my sister,” Aimee said. “And, seeing as that rules out a heckuva lot of people in New York, I’m pretty much single. And quite happy about it.”
“Umm, yes,” said Carmen. " ’Happy’ is in the dictionary next to your picture. With a big X over it.”
“I am actually a very nice person when someone takes the time to get to know me,” huffed Aimee. “I just have a lot of responsibilities.”
“The UN stuff.”
“Among other things. But that’s how I know Spain produces thirty-six percent of the world’s olive oil. I work in trade and development,” Aimee explained.
“Very good,” Carmen said. “You may just be the smart one out of this bunch of idiotas.”
“I speak Spanish, too.”
“¿Ahora sí entiendes lo que digo?”
“Yeah, I hear what you mutter in the kitchen,” said Aimee. “Like when you called my mother a—”
Carmen held up a hand to stop her from speaking.
“It’s unexpected,” admitted Aimee. “You swear like a sailor.”
“Well, what do you expect,” Carmen said. “I spent years in beauty pageantdressing rooms.”
Marching along at the front of the group, just behind the hike instructor, was Gus, Oliver’s extra ball cap on her head. He’d noticed her squinting against the sun—she’d forgotten her sunglasses—and promptly presented her with the hat. She always appreciated preparation.
“Slow down,” Oliver said now. “Sunday is a day of rest.”
But Gus couldn’t stop moving, had to keep going to outrun all the fears and anxieties that had crept into her bones the previous night. Onward, she told herself, don’t look back. It’s how she’d dealt with it all before and it had worked, hadn’t it?
She felt angry with Alan for setting her up with that damned investment adviser, had been too shocked to tell him so, though later she felt somewhat mollified knowing he was in the same sort of pickle. Aimee had delivered her a snapshot of what she’d found so far; all was not lost. It was just so much less than what she’d had a few days ago. No doubt it was all about numbers to her former money manager, but for Gus, being conned felt deeply personal.
Still, there was the manor house and some miscellaneous investments she’d made on her own over the years, more as an experiment than anythingelse, a savings account, and the chunk of insurance money she’d put aside for the girls’ weddings and had continually rolled over in a certificate of deposit for the last eighteen years. A fluke, really, since she’d often consideredcashing out the CD and turning it over to her financial adviser.
“It’ll be okay, Mom,” Aimee had said. “And if it isn’t, you can come live in my room in the city.” They’d laughed at that, a shared joke. Sabrina had felt left out then, she could see it in her face.
“Let me help, too,” Sabrina had said but Gus demurred, pointing out Aimee’s skill with numbers. Later, though, she’d wondered about that, knowing she’d have been less comfortable with her younger daughter knowingwhat was what. “There’s no need for you to worry,” she’d said. It had just seemed necessary, somehow, that Sabrina remain innocent and in need of babying.
“Saw the papers today,” Oliver said, keeping pace with her. He pointed to a red bird hopping on a tree branch. “And I’ve asked that little fella to peck out that guy’s eyes.” He whistled and the bird flew away.
“Message transmitted. My buddy’s off to the Cayman Islands to find and torture him,” he said matter-of-factly. She laughed, though in truth she wouldn’t have minded if something had befallen the crook who stole her money.
“It’s all quite embarrassing, really,” said Gus. “I’m not as smart as I thought I was.”
“Nah,” said Oliver. “Never feel bad for being swindled. Scam artists are pros.”
“You handled other people’s money. Were you ever tempted?”
“No. It wasn’t mine to take. You must have serious delusions to want something that isn’t yours.”
“Well, I’ve lost all my leverage with Alan,” confided Gus, a nice achy feeling creeping into her legs. She hoped she’d be able to sleep that night, that the day’s exercise would knock her out. “Now I can’t throw up my hands and threaten to abandon the show.”
“No one believed that anyway,” he said, offering her a sip from his water bottle. She declined. “You have too much pride in your work.”
“Pride goeth before the fall.” Her skin was starting to feel warm.
“You’re still standing,” he said.
“With no one to catch me if I collapse.”
“Doesn’t have to be that way.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” said Gus.
“Sure you do. I am asking you out. On a date.”
Gus frowned. “I am your boss, you know.”
“Okay, then I’ll quit,” he said. “Although I checked out the CookingChannelpolicy—there’s no restriction.”
“No one sent me the memo,” she said.
“I have a lot of virtues,” he continued. “Like being patient. When I want something, I have all the time in the world.”
“Well, I don’t. There’s too much going on in my life right now. And besides, it simply wouldn’t be appropriate. The end.”
“Don’t fall into that routine with me,” said Oliver. “I see you behind the scenes, and frankly, I like the real Gus better. She’s just as cute but far less proper.” He leaned his head in close, which immediately sent every nerve in her body on alert. She took several quick steps to get ahead of Oliver; he kept pace. Don’t talk, she told herself. Not a word.
“So you want real Gus, do you?” The fresh air and lack of sleep was going to her head, loosening her tongue before her brain cells transmitted the message to shut up. “What would y
ou even know about real Gus? This isn’t actually the life I’d planned to be leading, you know?”
Shut up, Augusta! Simply stroll silently the rest of the way. Just zip those lips.
“I didn’t plan to become a widow in my thirties,” she blurted. Oh my God, she was still talking.
“I didn’t plan to become a TV star,” she continued. “I didn’t plan to become Carmen Vega’s meal ticket. I didn’t plan to go on Gare’s little resort adventure. And I didn’t plan to have someone else hatch my nest egg. So there!”
Ah, yes, giving the silent treatment. Clearly she was very good at it, she thought sarcastically.
“There’s the life we dream,” Oliver said, “the life we deserve, and the life we get. I’ll take what I got over what I deserve any day.”
“And now you’re the sous chef philosopher,” said Gus. “How clever. I don’t want to encourage you any more or pretty soon you will want your own show. I’ve enough competition, thank you very much.”
“I just want to savor what’s on my plate,” he said simply. “Maybe explore a relationship for a bit of seasoning.”
“Not much flavor here, I’m afraid. My cupboard is pretty bare at the moment.”
“Okay, okay,” said Oliver. “Message transmitted. For now. But look, I really can offer you some solid advice about the money stuff. Put you in touch with some people. Just don’t let this guy take away anything more than what he’s already stolen. Don’t lose faith, Gus.”
“Because I’ll be fine, of course.”
“You will.”
“I hate that, you know, when people say that,” she said. “It doesn’t actually make me feel any better. But don’t worry, I’m the champion of turning that frown upside down. That’s what I do.” Her tone was laced with sarcasm.
“I’m not trying to diminish anything you’ve faced,” he said. “But you deal with everything with such grace. Another person would be crying and moaning about the theft, and instead you’re out here doing yoga and hiking and putting me in my place. You’re something to watch.”
“Like yesterday’s blowup with Aimee and Sabrina,” she said. “That was so well handled, I almost popped a vein in my head.”
