The Misadventures of Catie Bloom by Brooke Stanton

Author:Brooke Stanton
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780996851411
Publisher: Coco and Bee

“The oven isn’t on!”

I almost drop the cheesecakes I’m holding. “What?”

“The oven isn’t on!” Natalie says in an exaggerated stage whisper.

We’ve been filming for over two hours. Still, we’re on hold while Charles and Karen step aside to discuss the schedule since the filming has turned into an all-afternoon affair. Sam and Max sit in the breakfast nook, Sam with an amused look on his face and Max bemused at the chaos around him.

When I put the cakes down and open the oven door, everything turns to slow motion. Inside the oven is the very big, very raw turkey staring back.

“The turkey!” I stuffed it, basted it, and did everything correctly. Still, I didn’t even think about the temperature of the oven when I placed it inside.

Natalie claps her good hand on her knee as if I’ve just presented her with a new car or designer knife set. It would have been better if she’d left the kitchen entirely, but she refused. When I tried to push her out, she started making such a scene that I gave up. The kitchen has been filled with the crew, assistants, cameras, and Max all watching us with sharp eyes.

My eyes flick to Sam for help, but he smiles his Cheshire cat grin that he’s worn all day. Despite his assertions, he has been of no assistance. It’s as if he wants me to fail. Maybe that’s his new game. Instead of telling Gillian the truth, he’s letting me dig my own grave. He is a cruel, cruel man.

I whisper to Natalie, “How long does it take a turkey to cook?”

“A twenty-two-pound turkey…about four hours.”

“Four hours!” I scream, but then lower my voice. “We’re meant to be eating this damn meal in the dining room any minute.”

Max’s voice interrupts us from across the room. “Is there a problem? Can I help?”

“No,” we both yell.

“Can’t we just turn the oven up really high?” I ask, keeping my voice down. Natalie bends in a fit of laughter in lieu of an answer. I’m glad someone thinks this is hysterical because I’m about to Sylvia Plath myself right in that oven.

The kitchen door swings open, and Charles and Gillian walk in with grim faces. “The kitchen is wrapped. Bring the meal into the dining room. We have to shoot the meal now.” Charles takes in my appearance. “Mandy!”

“Do you have another dress?” Mandy asks when she sees me.

“Yes.”

“Good. Change, fix your hair, and then I’ll touch up your makeup.”

“We’re way over schedule, so the dinner is going to be the last staged shot of the day. The dinner shoot shouldn’t take long since there’s no audio. We only need hero shots of the food on display and Max, Catelyn, Sam, Gillian, me, at the table eating with the dog in the room.” Charles hands me a new shot list and schedule. “That’s the schedule for next weekend when we shoot the ice-skating and game night.”

“But what if the meal brings back Max’s memories today?” I ask, not believing for a minute this food will trigger Max’s mind, but needing a delay.

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