July 23, 2010 @ 8:53 am | Filed under: Books,The Writing Life
MELROSE MIRACLE
by Staci Wilder
Chapter Four
Ella stood outside the diner. It wasn’t often she entered as a customer, and the feeling was a strange one. She glanced down once more at her skirt, smoothed an imaginary wrinkle, picked a piece of white fuzz from her sweater, and willed herself to be brave.
“Here goes.” She raised her head with resolution, pulled open the door, and found herself staring straight into familiar blue eyes.
“Hello, there.” Taller than she remembered, Luke Abney wore khaki Dockers and a white button-down shirt that looked like it had been starched within an inch of its life. The purple Lakers cap was missing tonight and his blond hair was even more gorgeous than Ella had imagined it. She reached a self-conscious hand to her own hair, glad the heavy-duty conditioner she’d used this afternoon had managed to tame the often unruly curls.
And thank goodness she’d left that goofy beret on the bedroom floor.
“Hi,” Ella hesitated as he reached out for her hand. This might be how they did things in Hollywood, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to walk into the diner hand-in-hand with a virtual stranger. Especially not in this town! She tried to jerk her hand back, but he’d already grasped it in his own, and was now giving it a hearty shake.
“Oh.” It’s only a hand-shake, you silly ninny…
His deep blue eyes crinkled around the edges as he smiled down at her. “I’m glad you could make it. Kurt’s inside, waiting for us.” He gestured with his other arm. “Shall we?”
Ella nodded, hoping the smile she’d ordered her face to produce was duly in place. Then she walked toward the back corner table unsure where these steps might ultimately take her. But…it was time to find out.
“Ella,” Kurt Finley stood stretched out his hand as she approached, “It’s good to see you again. Thanks for taking the time to meet with us tonight.” He motioned for her to sit. “I understand you have a small daughter, right?”
“Um, yes. Yes, I do.” Ella paused when she realized Luke was holding her chair for her. “Thank you.” She smiled and felt her lips tremble with the movement. When Luke’s eyes held hers just a moment longer than necessary, Ella was pretty certain her insides did a complete flip-flop. Trying to save her composure, she looked away quickly and tried to focus on Kurt’s question. “Chloe.” She nodded. “She just turned two.”
“Ah, the two’s.” Kurt took the seat across from her. “Are they terrible yet? Any coloring on the walls? Temper tantrums? Sudden attachment to the word ‘no’?”
Ella laughed and raised her eyebrows.
“Yep, that’s right. You guessed it.” Kurt settled back in his chair and crossed one leg over his knee. “I have a rug rat of my own.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a worn brown leather wallet. He slid a glossy two-by-three snapshot across the table. “This is Daniel. He’ll be three in a few weeks.”
Ella leaned forward and studied the picture. A miniature version of Kurt, minus the gray temples, the small boy wore a mischievous grin and had just a hint of the smattering of freckles that would one day trail across his nose.
“He’s very cute.” She smiled. Did he expect her to pull out photos of Chloe now? That wouldn’t be appropriate, would it? This was business, right? They were here to basically interview her. Ella shifted in her chair, unsure.
Luke, in the seat next to her, took care of it for her. He pushed the photo back to Kurt. “Yeah, yeah, buddy, you got a cute kid. We believe you, right, Ella?” He winked at her and placed his hand on the back of her chair in a conspiratorial manner.
“Okay, I can take a hint.” Kurt chuckled and pulled a laptop from his case. “Let’s get down to business. But for what it’s worth,” he paused and glanced at Ella, “Luke here is my Daniel’s favorite babysitter. Aren’t ya, bud?” Kurt snorted as though he’d just unveiled a national secret.
Ella managed a grin, all too aware of Luke’s hand a mere inch or two from her back. She risked a peek his way and was surprised to see a slow pinkish flush begin to creep up Luke’s neck. Embarrassment only made him more attractive. She made a mental note to not clue Reggie in on this detail. Her best friend would have a field day if she knew the way Ella’s pulse seemed to stage a run-away in this man’s presence. No, it was better to keep that arsenal of information to herself.
“Okay, Ella, why don’t we start with me telling you the basics of the contest.” Kurt moved on.
“Sure, that’d be great.”
“Restaurant 101 will be taped at Dreamcaster Productions in Studio City. It will be The Cooking Channel’s first venture into a reality series.” He paused to make sure she was following. “We’re bringing together seven other chefs, besides yourself, and we’re going to see what happens when we put you in front of a camera.”
Ella felt herself cringe and hoped it didn’t show on her face. Her insides felt like jelly on a merry-go-round. She forced a smile and nodded.
“Each week we’ll introduce a new challenge. Each chef will be asked to complete that challenge and then the judges will deliberate. One chef a week will be eliminated until the final week. Then we’ll step things up a notch and there will be two elimination ceremonies and the final award.”
Ella released a sudden puff of breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. She sank against the back of her chair and felt Luke’s fingers graze the smoothness of her sweater. She’d almost forgotten his hand was there…
“I know. Intense, huh?” Kurt shrugged and grinned. “It’s not for the faint of heart.”
“About that final award…” Luke pointed to Kurt. “Let’s give her some incentive, man.”
Kurt planted his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers, obviously pausing for dramatic effect. Ella got the distinct feeling that these two had this routine down to a science. What she couldn’t afford to forget was that there were seven other finalists with dreams as large as hers. The contest was sure to be fierce, a guaranteed fight to the end.
“Yes, please,” Ella tried to talk around her rising trepidation, “throw me a bone!”
Kurt chuckled again. “How’s this for a bone? The last chef standing in Restaurant 101 will earn the pleasure of running their very own restaurant. Complete with their chosen theme, menu specialties, and a wait staff just itching to make your dream a reality.”
“Oh, wow.” Ella clasped her hands together, speechless.
On the one hand she wanted to celebrate, maybe scream or jump up and down, that she’d even been selected as one of the finalists. But the practical Ella, ever the consummate realist, hated to waste the emotion when this was the mere beginning of a very long, very tedious journey.
“Pretty fantastic, isn’t it?” Luke’s voice was warm and low next to her.
“No kidding.” She grinned and looked at him, a jittery flutter in her stomach startling her when his deep blue eyes locked on hers. Between the intensity of his gaze and the intimacy in his voice, her insides were standing at attention. If Kurt hadn’t been sitting directly across from her, Ella didn’t know if she’d have the power to tear her eyes away from Luke.
He leaned in close now and spoke in a mock used car salesman voice. “And just think. This could all be yours for the low, low price of…your privacy, your pride, and the ability to let television cameras capture your every slip-up!”
Ella laughed out loud, grateful that someone at this table had the courage to talk about the elephant in the room—that undeniable truth that made this whole adventure a risk that almost wasn’t worth taking.
Winning would require sharing herself in the most personal, public way possible. If she did well, The Cooking Channel viewers would celebrate with her. If she failed miserably, all America would be talking about it at the company water cooler.
Would she be able to stand the heat? Or should she get out of the kitchen now?
*****
mox▪ie n 1. ENERGY, PEP 2. KNOW-HOW, EXPERTISE
3. COURAGE, DETERMINATION
The words peered up at her from the worn pages of Webster’s Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary, a graduation present she’d received—how long had it been—eleven years ago?
Ella traced her finger over the page. Eleven years since high school graduation, when most days it seemed like no more than a handful. Where had the time gone? And why—if so much time had passed—did she still feel so much like that insecure seventeen-year-old girl she’d been back then?
Moxie. Reggie had used that word earlier, the one Stephen had loved to tease her with. That five-letter, two-syllable word continued to run through her mind like a child through a playground, long after she’d tucked Chloe in for the night, and then gone to bed herself.
She’d finally thrown back the covers, shuffled to the bookshelf, snatching up the dictionary on the way to the kitchen. Here she still sat—swaddled in a pink terry cloth bathrobe, sipping a cup of hazelnut coffee that would insure she remained wide-awake for hours to come, and pondering the black-and-white printed words in front of her.
Energy and pep. Ella snorted in the stillness of the small kitchen. Yeah, right. Those were two things she rode like a roller coaster at Coney Island. Up one day, down the next. Then the cycle started up all over again.
It hadn’t always been this way. Before Stephen’s diagnosis, every day resembled a vacation in some small way. Whether it was an unexpected cup of coffee in bed, a midnight phone call when he traveled, or simply lying next to him in their bed, quietly talking until they drifted off to sleep, it hadn’t mattered.
Each day had seemed bright, full of promise and new opportunities. Opportunities they’d longed for, embraced, dreamed about.
Opportunities like the contest.
No! Ella batted at the thought, trying to shoo it from her mind. No fair. She hated it when that happened, when Stephen’s voice seemed to whisper to her conscience, entwining distant cherished memories with circumstantial details of her life today, until she could no longer distinguish reality from a figment of her longing.
Memory was a wonderful thing. With the exception of their beautiful baby girl, these memories were all Ella had left of Stephen. But they were bittersweet.
Holding her close one minute, piercing her heart the next.
She stood now and walked to the sink, dumping the last cool remains of a cup of coffee she should have never fixed in the first place. Anchoring her palms on the counter, Ella shut her eyes against the wave of images trying to sneak across the screen of her mind.
Stephen holding Chloe for the first time. Stephen smiling at her from the door as he left for an early morning jog. Stephen giving her a thumbs-up sign when she’d finally nailed the Panini recipe—
“Woooo…” Ella blew out a long breath and walked back to the table, sinking with weak legs into her chair. The recipe. Suddenly it all made sense—her hesitancy during the taping, the uncertainty that had continued to plague her about this contest.
Sending in her contest entry meant sharing a part of Stephen with the rest of the world. A part she’d held locked safe inside for the past year. The part that was hers alone.
Her eyes drifted back to the open dictionary. Know-how and expertise. Funny how those two words seemed to have nothing to do with energy and pep. Yet they both defined the one attribute she desperately wanted to possess. You have such moxie, Ella-girl! Stephen’s proud voice echoed in her mind. How often had he whispered those words? I’m so very proud of you.
Would he still be proud of her today? What if—Ella shifted in her chair, tugging the sash of her robe tighter—what if he’s looking down on me now? She cringed. Was he proud of the way she barely dragged herself out of bed each morning? Proud of the way she carried Chloe to Saturday morning Mommy & Me time, dressed in faded sweats and a slicked-back ponytail? Proud of the way she still avoided church each Sunday, mentally crossing yet another week from the calendar she carried in her mind?
“Stephen, I’m a mess.” Whispered anguish ripped from Ella’s gut, clawing its way to her lips, and then spewing into the hushed silence of the kitchen. She’d run the gamut over the past twelve months. Grief. Loneliness. Anger. Ample tears for each emotion had been duly shed, and yet there always seemed to be more tears.
But the sensations erupting from Ella now were different, and she knew it.
This had nothing to do with Stephen. She’d lost her first love, sure, and she’d grieved for him. But now she’d lost something else and, without it, she was nothing.
She’d lost herself.
Somewhere between the slew of casseroles that’d been brought in during the weeks following the funeral until this very moment—sitting at the table in her bathrobe long after the clock in the living room had struck midnight—Ella Paglia had lost herself.
Courage and determination. Her eyes sought out the third, and final, definition. Blurred by tears that refused to fall, the black-and-white printed page danced before her eyes. Slowly but methodically, it emblazoned a new truth into the furthest recesses of her soul.
She could do this. She would go to Los Angeles and participate in Restaurant 101. She’d give it her all. Not only could she do it, but she’d do it well. It wasn’t about the winning. Not winning the contest anyway. Ella shut the dictionary and pushed it away. The winning wasn’t in the contest. It was in her. If she could find a way to press through, to somehow tap into that moxie Stephen had believed she possessed…
If she could uncover long buried courage and determination, then maybe…just maybe, she’d find herself in the process.
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