Cooking with Kandy

by Peggy Jaeger

  “That’s because we’re shooting on deadline,” Kandy said. “He’s just rattled we won’t finish on time. He hates going over budget.”

  “Money has nothing to do with his mental state,” Hannah declared. “The few times I’ve been in the studio he’s been on his cell phone nonstop when you weren’t filming.”

  “Well, that’s true,” Gemma said, grudgingly. “Stacy even said something about it the other day, remember?” she asked Kandy.

  She nodded. “I assumed he was talking to Alyssa. He always looks so beat up after the conversation ends.”

  “True,” Hannah said. “But those calls aren’t from Alyssa.”

  “How do you know?” Josh asked.

  There was a moment of silence before Kandy gasped. “You didn’t? Please tell me you didn’t, Mom.”

  Hannah waved a hand in the air again. “It wasn’t my fault. It just happened.”

  Scratching his ear, Josh asked, “Someone want to fill me in?”

  It was Gemma who did. “You should realize by now my mother is a world-class eavesdropper.”

  “That’s not a very flattering thing to call someone, Gemma Anne,” Hannah said, lips pouting and voice stern.

  “What would you prefer to be called? Snoop? Spy? Nosey-Parker?”

  Josh hid his grin behind his hand when he saw Hannah blush scarlet at her daughter’s description.

  “Gemma, you’re being rude,” Hannah said. She turned her attention to Josh. “It was very innocent on my part. Really. I was in the elevator on my way up to Kandy’s office a few weeks ago. It stopped on one of the floors and Cort was standing there, his back to the elevator, speaking on his cell. He spoke a woman’s name, turned, and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me.”

  “What name?” Josh asked.

  “Patty. He said, ‘Look Patty, I can’t go into this right now.’ That’s when he turned and saw me.”

  “What did he do then?”

  Lifting her hands outward, she shrugged. “Got in the elevator, threw me a lame smile, and whispered into the phone, I’ll call you back. Then he shoved his cell into his pocket.”

  Her gaze ran across all their faces. “It rang almost immediately after that, but he ignored it. Tried to make small talk until he got off a few floors later.”

  “So, from one encounter you think he’s cheating on Alyssa?” Kandy said.

  “Not much proof,” Gemma added, arms crossed in front of her, a sour expression on her face.

  Abby, silent for most of the hour, piped in, “It is pretty lame for an accusation of cheating.”

  “But it wasn’t the only time,” Hannah said. Josh knew she regretted giving voice to the statement, because she blushed again and put her hand over her mouth.

  “I knew it,” Kandy said, rising and grabbing the tea tray. “Mom, you’re just too much sometimes.”

  “Kandy, sit down,” Josh told her, his voice hard and stern. “We’re not done.”

  She turned, the tray still in her hands. He could tell she was surprised at his tone. She stared at him, mouth open in a silent moue of shock. “Please,” he added, pointing to the sofa.

  Josh was as astounded as the rest of her family when she complied.

  “Thank you,” Josh said. “Hannah, maybe you’d better tell us what you overheard.”

  When it looked as if she were going to protest his choice of words, he put a restraining hand up and said, “All by chance, of course. I understand that. We understand that,” he added, swiping his hand to indicate her daughters.

  When Gemma snorted, Josh threw her a glare that had her squirming in her seat.

  “Well, again,” Hannah said, “this wasn’t my fault. But it was at your book party, Kandy. You’d already left by the time I arrived. Reva wasn’t thrilled, by the way,” she added.

  “We already know about Reva, Hannah,” Josh said. “Tell us about Cort.”

  She pouted for a second. “I was speaking with Kandy’s publisher when I saw Cort reach for his cell. He answered it and began behaving in a strange way. Secretive. Looking all around as he made his way to the back of the ballroom. He put his hand over the mouthpiece, and when he passed by me I heard him say ‘Patty’ again. He didn’t look happy.”

  “I remember that,” Gemma broke in. “I saw it happen. I was standing at the bar with Reva. Cort’s cell went off, and when he answered it, I remember thinking the same thing. It was like he was upset. He shot straight for the men’s room, the phone glued to his ear.”

  “I know I heard him say ‘Patty,’” Hannah said with conviction. “I’m not wrong.”

  “Is that it? Is that why you think he’s cheating on his wife?” Kandy asked. “Because Patty could be anyone from his accountant to his dental hygienist.”

  “True,” Hannah said. “But if there’s one thing I know, girls, and you can’t deny this—any of you—it’s men. I just know he’s being unfaithful to Alyssa. I can feel it. Not that I blame him. She gives the term bitch a whole new meaning.”

  “What do you think?” Gemma asked, turning to Josh.

  He glanced from her to Kandy and then back to Hannah. “I think your mother may know a little more about these things than you do. I’ll run a more in-depth check on both of the Masons.”

  “Both? You can’t think Cort is behind any of this?” Kandy shouted, jumping up from the sofa again. “He’s one of my best friends, Josh. He loves me. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “Kandy, calm down.” Josh rose as well and took her arm.

  She snatched it back, recoiling. “Don’t tell me to calm down. Not when you’re accusing one of the best men I’ve ever known of trying to harm me.”

  “I haven’t accused anyone. And remember, you told me you’d do anything to find out who’s behind these things. Anything.”

  She glared at him, her eyes scalding with burning rage. Without another word, she turned and bolted from the room, through the foyer, and out the kitchen door. When they heard it slam shut, Josh and Gemma both moved to follow her.

  “Haven’t you done enough?” Gemma threw at him.

  “Gemma, sit down,” Hannah ordered from the chair.

  Ignoring both of them, Josh sprinted from the room.

  “Mother, I’m a little old to be told what to do,” Gemma said, her top lip curling back in a sneer.

  “I. Said. Sit. Down.”

  The two women stared at each other for a few moments before Gemma relented. “Damn it!” She plopped back on the sofa, her arms twisted in front of her. “He upset her.”

  “Then let him fix it.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kandy ran outside, fighting the urge to scream at the top of her lungs, and headed straight down to the sand. Hands fisted so tight her short nails stabbed into the flesh of her palms, she fought for air.

  It was all too much.

  Too many questions, too many thoughts, too many feelings.

  When had this become her life? When had her life—the one she’d planned and sacrificed for—become a confused mix of distrust, fear, and suspicion? Of raging, uncontrollable reactions? Of being forced to admit the life she’d always dreamed of wasn’t quite what she’d expected or wanted?

  Kandy closed her eyes, squeezing back tears. She wouldn’t be weak, wouldn’t be the cliché of the overwhelmed woman succumbing to her overwrought emotions. She had her grandmother’s tough and stubborn DNA woven through her. Sophie would have given her a stern shake of her head with a lecture attached if she’d discovered her granddaughter falling into an emotional heap.

  She sensed Josh come up behind her. Wordlessly, he turned her around to face him.

  “Go away,” she said, fighting to break free of his hold.

  He wouldn’t release her.

  He wove his hands around her upper arms, pulling her into his own. She knew his intent was to give comfort, but Kandy wouldn’t be comforted, her anger still hot and burning. She lifted her fists and beat at
his chest, her arms conduits for the fury and frustration swirling within her as she unleashed it all on him.

  “I hate this!” She pushed against him so hard that she stumbled backward, almost losing her footing in the soft sand, and wobbled to remain upright as she glared at him. “I hate all this supposition and gossip. Poking into people’s confidential business, speculating on their marriages, their behavior, their finances. And I hate you for forcing me to question people I trust. People I consider friends. People I love.”

  “Kandy—”

  “No!” she roared.

  His lips clamped down.

  “This is your life, Josh, not mine. You have to distrust people, question every move, every motive, everything they say and do. I’m not made that way.” Her hand pounded her chest. “I’ve built my career on entrusting the people around me to do their best, to support me, to help me. I hate that you’re making me doubt them. They’re good people. Honest. Loyal.”

  Under the bright moonlight, his face was a mask of calm.

  “They don’t expect to have their private lives combed through like someone burrowing through garbage. They have a right to their privacy, as do I. As do you. It’s a basic right.”

  “I agree with you.” He nodded. “On principle, if nothing else.”

  “On principle?” She took a step toward him, her hands fisted on her hips. “How can you stand to do what you do? How can you go on day after day, digging up dirty little secrets, being suspicious of everyone you come in contact with? Never trusting anyone?”

  “I trust people, Kandy. But this is my job.” He said it so simply, with such acceptance, she wanted to scream.

  “Well, forgive me,” she spat, “but it’s a lousy job.”

  He stared at her a moment, then cocked his head. “Answer one question for me.”

  “Just one?” She folded her arms across her chest. “Why not ten thousand? It’s what you do, isn’t it? Question everything and everyone?”

  He wouldn’t be baited, instead asking, “What are you really mad at, Kandy? Me, for forcing you to consider someone close to you could be responsible for all these incidents? Or that you think I’m invading their privacy—”

  “You are.”

  “—Or are you mad at yourself because you’re beginning to realize you don’t know the people around you as well as you think you do?”

  Her brows pulled together. “What does that mean? Of course I do. They’re all family and friends.”

  “You’ve told me they all work with you, but the reality is these people work for you. You’re the boss. It’s your name on the banner. Friends, family, all of them, it makes no difference. You’re in charge. You make the decisions, and you decide what’s best. For everyone.”

  “It’s my career.” She slapped her fists against her thighs. “It’s my name. Of course I’m in charge.”

  “Did you ever consider that maybe, just maybe, someone close to you is sick of that, sick of being, for lack of a better word, one of your minions? That maybe someone doesn’t want to drink the Kandy Kool-Aid anymore?”

  Kandy froze. “That’s a despicable thing to say.”

  “Is it? When you’re filming and the take is as perfect as it can be and you demand another one, everyone falls in line, even knowing the first one was fabulous and can’t possibly get any better.”

  “But—”

  Now he took a step closer to her, his own hands balled on his hips. “Or when the incident on the roof happened and everyone felt it was better to call it a day—everyone but you—production commenced despite what they wanted.”

  “We have contracts to honor, budgets to comply with—”

  “You can wrap it up in any excuse you want, Kandy, the simple fact is you wanted to go on, so no one fought you about it. Your word is law. You never stopped to consider how the crew felt about finding something as unpleasant as a speared rat at their place of work. How they might need a break, mentally and physically, from something so gruesome and threatening. Or even how worried your aunts and Stacy were about the whole thing. No. You wanted to continue, so, like soldiers following orders, everyone fell in line, despite their own feelings and misgivings.”

  “But you said you understood,” she cried. “That whole speech you gave me about being the captain of the ship and what it meant.”

  Josh nodded. “I do understand, and believe me, I admire your dedication and sense of commitment. But I don’t work for you. I’m not one of the people forced to comply with what you demand of them every day.”

  Confusion mixed with hurt, leaving a sour taste in her mouth.

  “What I demand of them? What am I asking for that’s so horrible? That people do their job? That they honor the commitments they’ve made? Strive to put out the best, the highest-quality product they’re capable of? Why is that so wrong? You’re making me sound like a dictator.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes!”

  “You don’t think someone could be tired of trying to live up to your high standards? That maybe they’ve had enough and this is their way of cutting ties with you, of getting out?”

  She threw up her hands, turned and, stalked toward the water’s edge. “I don’t understand a thing you’re saying. Enough of what?”

  He followed her to where she’d stopped. “Your quest for perfection.”

  Kandy closed her eyes and swallowed, a giant ball of uneasiness lodging in the back of her throat. Her voice shook when she said, “I’m not a perfectionist.”

  I’m not.

  But wasn’t she? Really? At her core, didn’t she strive to make every recipe, every project, every piece of her life, perfect and ideal?

  Of course I do, but I demand perfection from myself, not anyone else.

  Don’t I?

  “Call it whatever you want, but the result is the same. The people around you know you accept nothing less from yourself and from them. And you don’t broker any arguments or discussion when you’ve made up your mind.”

  Kandy opened her eyes and stared at the inky black darkness in front of her. The ocean tide lapping against her bare feet was cold, her toes beginning to tingle from its chilly temperature.

  Had she really put that kind of pressure on the people around her, the people she claimed to love and trust? Pressure to be the best at all costs? Forcing them to strive for a perfection that was unattainable? Was she really that person? Had she pushed someone so far to the brink they were now lashing out against her?

  She’d steamrolled through her career, moving from one project to the next at full speed, never stopping, never resting, always focused on her ultimate goal. In doing so, had she alienated someone close to her? Stacy and the aunts had never once complained, never once confronted her about her grueling schedules, about how she pushed herself—and, apparently—the people around her. Neither had Cort.

  Had she missed clues to how they were feeling, what they might be going through because of the constant stress? She certainly had with Daniel. She’d never questioned why his behavior had become so erratic or why’d he taken to drinking during work. He wasn’t doing his job to the best of his ability, so she’d summarily fired him without ever asking him about the cause of his behavior.

  With Cort, she’d dismissed the secrecy he’d cloaked himself in of late, and never gave a thought to why he’d had such a sudden desire for quick flights from work at the end of day. Until this season’s filming began, Cort had made a habit of sticking around the studio after everyone had left, preparing for the next day, or making notes on editing changes he wanted. Now he was just as eager as everyone else on staff to leave once shooting was completed. She’d ignored this change in his behavior as long as the work was finished and perfect—that word again!

  Thinking back, she realized even Stacy, usually as unflappable and calm as a statue, had been snapping at coworkers. She’d taken to wearing her glasses more and more instead of her contact lenses, and Kandy reali
zed now it was probably to shield the purple smudges under eyes that had sprung up, caused, no doubt, by lack of sleep.

  Hard work had been drilled into her as a child by Sophie, and, in truth, Kandy thrived on it. She’d never considered until this moment, though, that someone around her might not feel the same way, might not have the same dedication, the same drive, maybe not even want the same things, she did, and was fed up.

  Had her strive for success and dedication to perfection forced someone she knew to lash out to the point of tormenting her? She hadn’t looked at it from that perspective before, and when she did now, she shuddered at the thought. While she wasn’t the dictator Josh made her sound like, she admitted she certainly wasn’t the easiest person to work with.

  For the first time in, well, forever, Kandy took a good hard look at herself and questioned the person she truly was. She shivered, retreated a step back from the frigid water, and knocked up against the solid wall of Josh’s chest. His hands rose to clasp her elbows.

  When she turned to face him, his quiet look of concern and acceptance humbled her.

  “It kills me to admit this,” she said, a sob strangling her voice, “but you could be right. Today proved it’s someone I know, someone who can”—she swallowed, tasting bile—“get close to me. And while I hope I haven’t done anything to or hurt someone enough to cause all this, I can’t deny what you’re saying could be true.”

  Every fiber in her being was drained. To know she’d pushed herself to exhaustion only added to the guilt she felt, realizing she’d done the same to those around her.

  It was an eye-opening discovery.

  Without another word between them, Josh folded her into his arms. This time she clung to him as if he were a lifeline, drawing the strength and calm she needed from his gentle touch. He lowered them to their knees in the sand.

  The moonlight above shone brilliant from the cloudless night sky. The thunderous waves breaking against the shoreline roared around them, their rhythmic roll and pitch a quieting and soothing serenade.