Last Bite: A Novel of Culinary Romance by Nancy Verde Barr

Author:Nancy Verde Barr
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Algonquin Books
Published: 2006-09-19T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Hot mama.

—Trace Adkins

Sally breezed into the studio at six the next morning. After greeting me as though she couldn’t believe her eyes that I was here, she said she’d arrived in New York late last night after spending a delightful weekend with friends north of Baltimore. She was in a very up-beat mood.

“I’d like to sit down and look over the cookery books first,” she said. “There’s nothing much for me to remember for the chili spot.” Since the firefighter would be making the recipe, all Sally had to do was be entertaining and charming and act interested. She could do that in her sleep.

I piled the cookbooks on Romeo. “Do you have the scripts with you or do you want mine to ignore?” She gave me her sheepish grin. Scripts were merely guidelines for Sally; she’d do and say whatever came into her head and it would be better than anything we could have spent weeks writing.

Since we had gotten so much done on Tuesday, our work for the chili segment was pretty much a snap. Because it was a live show, we didn’t need backups, and although there were a few swaps, we’d gotten them done the day before. Mae pulled a number of containers out of the refrigerator and transferred the contents to pans so she could reheat them. Jonathan came in and when he saw Sally, he quickly removed his pout and replaced it with a smile. He said nothing about the color of the chili but proudly showed her the flowers he had brought to decorate the cookbook set. “I’m going to put them in one of my special copper pans. A vase would be just too common. What do you think of that, Mrs. Woods?”

“I think it’s a fine idea, Jonathan.” I knew that Sally didn’t care about decoration at all. As long as the food looked good, she was happy with a setup.

“Make sure the copper finish is dull, Jonathan,” I said. “We don’t want the lights to create a glare on the metal.”

“I didn’t start here yesterday, Casey.”

I gave him a sarcastic smirk. “CYA” was all I said.

Before long, Sonya arrived flanked by a brigade of six strapping firefighters looking sharp and snappy in dark blue dress uniforms with double rows of shiny brass buttons. Only one of the men would be cooking with Sally—they chose him by picking his name out of a firefighter’s boot—but they had developed the winning recipe together and they all wanted to meet her. Each had his hat tucked under one arm and something in the other hand for her to sign. If I were ever to be famous, I’d want to be just like Sally. She has such a genuine warm appreciation for her fans. They left the kitchen beaming and I knew she had made them feel that they were the special ones, not her. John McGuire, the firefighter who’d won the boot lottery, stayed behind so we could go over the script with him and give him tips on what to do and not do.

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