Barcelona Calling by Jane Kirkpatrick

Author:Jane Kirkpatrick [Kirkpatrick, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-310-41246-5
Publisher: Zondervan
Published: 2011-09-09T04:00:00+00:00

The line moves quickly, with people at the door checking both our ID and our dogs. It’s a suburbia zoo with every imaginable breed carried, leashed, and led. I don’t see any poodles with bad trims or half-furminated dogs that I’d left at Élan-Canine Salon. Bette’s talking food but I don’t think she’s heard that the only recipes today will result in dog biscuits and treats, because she keeps saying she can hardly wait to see what the chef has on the menu that she might adapt for her residents. I don’t see how I can work a dog recipe into Miranda’s life—or how Bette would take that recipe back to her assisted living cherubs either.

“Wait here a moment,” the ticket taker says when he sees my ticket. “You’ve got a labeled one. Means you’ll get to sit up front at the counter where Chef Art will be teaching.”

Misty squeals in delight. “That’s wonderful! You’ll get to eat what’s served right away,” she says.

“Ho-Bee will,” I say. “I’m not eating the dog treats.”

“Oh, they’ll surely have something more than that,” Darlien says. “I hope.”

“There’ll be at least a little conversation time during the commercial breaks,” Bette says. “Who knows what connections an enterprising person like you can build that into? You have books to give away, right?” I nod and she gives me a hug. Ho-Bee fidgets against my chest as Misty shuffles quickly to her seat beside Darlien, Kari, and Misty. They sit around little tables with a single iris centered in a vase. Ho-Bee and I are directed to a lovely granite counter with what looks like hand-joined oak chair backs and seats that swivel.

Dog in arm, I maneuver around cords and electrical outlets and step in front of cameras. I wish my T-shirt had the book title on it. None of us is now wearing the brightly colored kids’ sun glasses. But maybe when we’re introduced on air I’ll have the chance to turn toward the camera, say my name and occupation, and mention The Long Bad Sentence. Surely the producer will ask.

Chance. It’s all about making my own chances and not being ashamed of my story.

A make-up assistant puts a tiny touch of powder on my nose to take the shine off, I guess. The production assistant introduces himself. He asks our names and occupations and cuts me off before I can say anything about my book. He makes notes, then tells us where to sit, seating us not at the granite counter but at a table. He places me beside a college student with eyebrows that run together. He wears a “UNLV” label on his shirt. His Boston bulldog wears a matching white shirt. Good idea! The UNLV guy nearly slobbers with a Pavlovian response to a girl with hair so flaming red it looks like it could combust, and a smile as charming as chocolate. She sits diagonally across from me. Her dog is a teacup poodle, pink as bath suds and smelling just as sweet.

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