by Cindy Myers
Chapter Two
“What is all that commotion in front of the Last Dollar?” Librarian Cassie Wynock craned her neck to see over the crush of people and cars in front of the café.
“It’s probably because of that TV show.” Cassie’s assistant, Gloria Sofelli, stood beside and a little behind Cassie, on the sidewalk in front of the Eureka County public library. The two had arrived together to open the library for the day, but all the traffic had distracted Cassie.
“What TV show?” Cassie barked the question like a homicide detective questioning the chief suspect in a murder case—or at least, that’s the way it seemed to Gloria, who had a fondness for crime dramas, but no affection for Cassie’s accusing tone. Not to mention that short, squat Cassie, with her square frame and head of tight gray curls, looked more like Miss Marple than any homicide detective ever portrayed on stage or screen.
“It . . . it’s a cooking show.” Gloria despised the tremble that showed up in her voice. Cassie was a tyrant who bossed everyone around—especially Gloria. If only Gloria could find the courage to stand up to the librarian, Cassie might back down a little. Every day, she vowed that today, she’d demand the respect she deserved.
And every day, Gloria retreated back to her timid self. She cleared her throat and found her voice. “What’s Cookin’? USA is filming an episode at the Last Dollar,” she said. “There was an article in the Miner.”
Cassie sniffed. “I’m much too busy to read every word of that excuse for a paper.”
Cassie did read the paper, Gloria knew, but mainly in search of anything about her, the library, the historical society, or anything else she considered her territory. She had an ongoing feud with the Miner’s publisher, Rick Otis, because he’d refused to run the review of the Founder’s Day pageant she’d written last fall. Cassie had written the play about her ancestors’ role in founding the town of Eureka, and starred in the production as well, playing the role of her great-grandmother. Rick had pointed out that her review wasn’t exactly unbiased. For example, it left out the fact that the play had ended with an explosion that had almost burned down the restored opera house.
Cassie focused her gaze on the crowd around the café once more. “You say that bunch is with a television show?”
“I don’t know for sure, but—”
“What’s the name again?” Cassie interrupted.
“The show is called What’s Cookin’? USA. It’s on cable.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s very popular.” Gloria never missed an episode. Faye Anne Reynolds was the perfect hostess—so pretty and perky and friendly. She was the kind of person Gloria would like to be, instead of a painfully shy introvert.
“I’m sure it’s trash, like everything else on television these days,” Cassie said. “What are they doing in Eureka?”
“Every episode features a restaurant, usually in a small town or neighborhood. The show’s host, Faye Anne Reynolds, talks to people around town and shows local attractions, then hosts a big dinner at the restaurant. Someone must have told her how good the food is at the Last Dollar.”
“I’ll bet they didn’t tell her about the café’s owners,” Cassie said. “They aren’t the sort we ought to have representing the people of this town.”
Gloria made a face at Cassie’s back. “Janelle and Danielle are both beautiful, and sweet as they can be,” she said. “The audience will love them.”
Cassie, who was neither sweet nor beautiful, stiffened. “I’d better find out what’s really going on.” She hitched her handbag more securely onto her arm and stepped off the curb.
“What about the library?” Gloria asked.
“You open it.”
Gloria glanced over her shoulder at the library’s locked doors. Officially, they should have opened five minutes ago, but no one was waiting. She’d spend the next hour dusting shelves or checking in titles, while Cassie was in the middle of the all the excitement. “I want to go with you,” she said.
“I don’t need your help. And someone has to stay at the library.”
“If everyone is at the café, no one will be at the library.”
Cassie was either so surprised that Gloria would argue with her or so caught up in her curiosity about the goings-on down the street that she merely shook her head and set off walking. A thrill running through her at her sense of daring, Gloria followed, keeping a few steps between them.
It looked as if most of the businesses along Eureka’s main streets had emptied out to converge on the Last Dollar. Gloria spotted town mayor and junk shop owner Lucille Theriot with her daughter, Olivia, who worked at the Dirty Sally Saloon next to the café. Rick, from the paper, was there, along with his reporter, Maggie Stevens, and her fiancé, Jameso Clark, who also worked at the saloon. Everyone was ogling the woman who stood on the sidewalk in front of the Last Dollar with Janelle and Danielle. Dressed in a figure-hugging shirtwaist in a fiery tomato red, a red-and-white polka dot scarf wound around an Ivana Trump–style platinum-blond updo, Faye Anne Reynolds waved and blew kisses to her admirers, while flashes from cameras and cell phones burst around her.
Gloria gaped, heart pounding. In person, Faye Anne looked smaller than she did on the screen, and even more beautiful. “Thank you all for such a warm welcome,” she said, her Southern accent softening the vowels and drawing out the words. “I know I’m going to thoroughly enjoy my time here in your town, but the last thing I’d ever want to do is disrupt your lives. So you all just go on about your business and pretend I’m not even here.” She made a little shooing gesture and the crowd laughed. Gloria laughed, too. Faye Anne was just too cute.
A stocky Asian man bumped into Gloria. “Excuse me, miss,” he said, and put out a hand to steady her. “Are you all right?”
Gloria, well into her thirties and looking every day of it according to her mirror, couldn’t remember the last time anyone had called her “miss.”
“I’m fine.” She offered a tentative smile. “Are you with Faye Anne—I mean, Ms. Reynolds’s crew?”
“You could say that. I am the crew.” He offered his hand. “Jack Than Ngu. I’ll be shooting the raw footage here, then we’ll take it back to the studio in Los Angeles and put it all together.”
Gloria took his hand. It was big and warm and attached to arms that looked muscular, even with the leather jacket he wore. “That must be such interesting work,” she said.
“It pays the bills. I take it you’re a local?”
“Oh. Yes. I’m Gloria Sofelli. I work at the library.” She turned to point to the white-columned house down the block. “Just over there.”
“Now a library would be a nice place to work,” Jack said. “All those books. The quiet and order.”
“Well, yes, it has those things going for it,” she admitted. “But it can get pretty boring. Nothing like working with a star like Faye Anne.”
“She’s something else to work for.” He glanced over at the host, who was deep in conversation with the café owners. “Don’t get me wrong—she’s a wonderful woman. But she can get a little uptight sometimes.”
“I’m sure it’s stressful, having the responsibility of a whole show resting on your shoulders,” Gloria said. The words came so easily. A stranger looking on might assume she carried on conversations with good-looking men every day of the week.
“I guess so.” Jack shrugged. “Me, I just keep my head down, do my job, and let it all roll off.”
“That’s how I handle my boss, too,” Gloria said. She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “She can be pretty uptight sometimes, too.”
“Then we have something in common.” His warm brown eyes met hers, and Gloria felt a thrill that had nothing to do with seeing her idol. Maybe the most interesting thing about What’s Cookin’? USA wasn’t Faye Anne Reynolds at all.
Danielle’s first thought on seeing Faye Anne Reynolds in person was that the woman was tiny—a five-foot-three bundle of nerves in four-inch heels and a blon
de updo that added another three inches to her height. But even though the combination made her tower over Danielle, she still looked small, as if a stiff breeze would blow her away. And the silky red dress she wore, though beautiful, wasn’t doing much to keep her warm in the April chill. “Do you want to come inside and get warm?” Danielle offered after Faye Anne had delivered her gracious speech to the crowd.
“Oh, I’m not cold.” Faye Anne laughed away the suggestion, though the gooseflesh on her bare arms and the bluish tint around her lips belied her words. She smiled and waved to someone in the crowd, then posed for a photo.
“Maybe it would be easier for us to talk inside,” Danielle said. “And you could have lunch.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet of you, but I never actually eat meals at the restaurants I feature.” She squeezed Danielle’s arm. “I just taste here and there. Otherwise, I’d never stay a size two.”
Danielle thought of her own not-size-two curves. Not that she normally minded being plump—she considered it evidence that she enjoyed her own cooking.
“Did you really come down from Black Mountain in that car on the trailer?” Janelle asked.
They all turned to study the yellow convertible on the trailer parked next to the café. “Oh that.” Faye Anne’s laugh was more brittle this time. “Definitely an exciting way to start the day. We’ll have to unload it from the trailer and get some establishing shots of it parked in front of the café—maybe tomorrow. I’m sure there’s someone here in town who can help with that.”
“Is something wrong with the car?” Janelle asked. “Do you need a mechanic?”
“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with it! That car is a collector’s item. It’s much too valuable to run on the road.”
Janelle and Danielle exchanged a look. “At least we could go inside to talk,” Danielle said. “And you could taste a few things.” She and Janelle had been up since four-thirty, preparing half a dozen special dishes to tempt the television star.
“That won’t be necessary. My friend Gary said your food was fabulous, and really, it’s not the food that interests my viewers the most.”
“It’s not?” Danielle asked.
“No. It’s the idea behind the food. People watch cooking shows to experience the thrill of creation. They like to read the recipes and imagine themselves creating such dishes. Or they like to soak up the atmosphere of the small town and the setting and imagine themselves living there. But most of them are never going to make or eat any of the things they see on the show.”
“I’ve made almost every dish you’ve featured on your show,” Danielle said.
“Except the octopus from that restaurant in Washington state,” Janelle said. “Fresh octopus is very hard to obtain here in the mountains.”
“Maybe we could just feed your staff,” Danielle said. “We have all this food that I’d hate to see go to waste.” Even if they marked everything down and sold it as the special of the day, they’d have trouble selling it all before the day ended. They scraped the day’s leftovers into a big plastic drum and Bernie Whitaker retrieved it every day, but she hated to think of so much effort going to feed Bernie’s pigs.
“That’s so thoughtful of you, but there’s just Jack.” Faye Anne made a vague motion toward the crowd. “He’s out there somewhere. If you can find him, I’m sure he’ll eat plenty. Typical man—he still thinks he can take in food like a teenager. As if no one notices that gut he’s developing.”
Danielle resisted the urge to suck in her own stomach. “It would be quieter—and warmer—if we talked inside,” she said. “And I’m sure you want to see the inside of the café.”
“Oh definitely. Soon. But right now it’s more important that my public see me.” She flashed another smile and froze as cameras clicked. “It helps build anticipation for the show.”
“Everyone in Eureka is already very excited,” Janelle said. “We have had so many requests to be part of the dinner in the finale.”
“Oh, yes. Everyone wants to be part of that. But that’s good, too. It builds an atmosphere of exclusivity. By the time I make my final selections, everyone in town will be vying for a place at the table. You can’t imagine the thrill I get when the invitations go out.”
“I’d worry about disappointing people,” Danielle said. “We have so many friends here. We hate to leave anyone out.” If it were left up to her, she’d open the doors wide and invite anyone and everyone to the show’s finale dinner. She didn’t agree that being exclusive made a place—or a meal—more special.
“That’s why I always make sure I’m the one in charge of the guest list,” Faye Anne said. “No one would dream of arguing with me.” She blew a kiss toward the crowd, then pulled out her phone and studied the screen. “Now, I just need a little more information to help me in writing my intro. You’re sisters, right?”
Danielle glanced at tall, blond, blue-eyed Nordic princess Janelle. She herself was short, dark-haired, olive-skinned, plump, and brown-eyed. Janelle’s opposite. “No one’s ever mistaken us for sisters before,” she said. “We’re partners.”
“You mean business partners.” Faye Anne’s placid smile never wavered. “How did that come about? Were you childhood friends, or is this simply a business venture?”
“We’re a couple.” Janelle slipped one arm around Danielle’s shoulders. “Lovers.”
Only the slightest twitch at the corner of one eye, and the merest dimming of the smile that remained fixed in place. “Oh, well, that’s fine. We won’t bother to mention it to our viewers though.”
“We hadn’t planned to make an announcement or anything,” Danielle said, a little stiffly. “Most people figure it out after they’ve been around us a while.”
“Right. Well then, moving on.” She consulted the phone again. “We should talk about décor.”
“Décor?” Janelle frowned.
“Not inside. I’m sure that will be fine, though we may need to move some things around to accommodate the cameras and lighting.” She indicated the bare shrubbery flanking the restaurant’s front steps. “It’s supposed to be spring. We need flowers.”
“April is still winter at this elevation,” Danielle said.
“But I promised my producer a spring show. Sunshine. Wildflowers. No matter. I’ll think of something. I always do.” Another glance at the phone. “Oh yes. The guest list for the final dinner. We’ve already touched on that some. The final decision will be mine, but I do welcome your suggestions. We want a nice representation of the character of the town. Various ages and sexes, multiracial if possible.”
“You should include the mayor, Lucille Theriot,” Janelle said.
Faye Anne typed a note into her phone. “A woman mayor. How progressive. Is she by any chance a minority?”
“Um, no.”
“Who else, then? Someone who will play well to the camera, of course.”
“Well, maybe—”
But Danielle never got the chance to nominate Maggie or Jameso or anyone else on her list of preferred guests. Cassie Wynock strode up the steps in her sensible Oxfords, skirt, and blouse. “As president of the historical society and the town librarian, I wanted to introduce myself,” she said. “I’m Cassie Wynock.”
“Um, my pleasure, Ms. Wynock, I’m sure.” Faye Anne looked the older woman up and down. “Everyone in Eureka has been so welcoming.”
“I seriously doubt you’ve had a chance yet to meet the right people.” Cassie’s gaze flickered over Janelle and Danielle. “I can introduce you to the town’s founding families. And of course, as president of the historical society, I can share with you the wonderful history of Eureka, which I’m sure your viewers would love to know.”
“That’s a very generous offer.” Faye Anne’s tight smile was back in place.
“The show isn’t about local history,” Janelle said. “It’s about food. That’s why it’s called What’s Cookin’?”
“The official title is What’s Cookin’? USA,” Faye Anne said
. “I believe there’s another show somewhere in Europe called What’s Cooking? We don’t want to confuse our viewers.”
“I know the name of the show,” Cassie protested. “Though I don’t understand why you can’t spell the word properly. It’s ‘cooking.’ Cookin’ is not proper English.”
“We want the viewers to feel our show is warm and friendly. Informal and fun,” Faye Anne said.
“There’s too much emphasis on informality and fun these days,” Cassie said.
“Um, yes.” Faye Anne’s smile slipped, but only for a moment. She patted Cassie’s hand. “It was lovely meeting you, Ms. Wynock.” She turned back to Danielle. “Maybe we should go inside. It is a bit chilly out here.”
“I hope you packed a coat,” Cassie called after them. “The weather report calls for more snow.”
Faye Anne stopped and briefly closed her eyes. Danielle wondered if she was praying. Then she opened her eyes again, smile once more firmly in place. “I’m sure everything will be just lovely,” she said, with more enthusiasm than the moment warranted. “This will be my best show ever.”
STUFFED MUSHROOMS WITH GOAT CHEESE
Ingredients:
1 pound white button or cremini mushrooms
Olive oil
1 slice bread, white or wheat
4 ounces goat cheese
½ teaspoon fresh thyme
½ teaspoon black pepper
Salt to taste
Directions:
Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
Clean mushrooms and remove stems. Finely chop the stems and set aside.
Brush a cookie sheet with olive oil and set aside.
Pulse bread in a food processor or blender to make crumbs.
Combine bread crumbs, chopped mushroom stems, crumbled goat cheese, thyme, black pepper, and salt until well-mixed.
Stuff mushrooms with the cheese mixture.
Arrange stuffed mushrooms on oiled cookie sheet and bake 15 to 20 minutes until lightly browned.
