by Staci Wilder

Chapter Seventeen

             Luke hurriedly pulled on a pair of dark Levi’s and tucked in his green-and-white striped polo shirt. He’d overslept by two snoozes and now he had less than half an hour to get to the studio. Kurt had called late last night to tell him that all cameras would be in use today. Something about a press junket being a part of the day’s challenge.

            He squeezed a quarter-size dollop of gel into his hands and worked it through his short crop of curls. Dark circles beneath each eye told the story of his restless night. Tossing for what seemed like hours, he’d watched the red numbers on his bedside clock switch to three a.m. before once shutting his eyes.

            A good strong cup of coffee would be useful right now. He’d have to settle for the kind he could get at the corner 7-11. He was out of the stuff here at home and the lines at the coffee shops were always a mile long this time of morning.

            Not to mention the phrase ‘coffee shop’ stabbed a fresh dart of pain right through the center of his heart. The images were branded in his head: the Blended Hearts sign in the window, spotting Ella walking inside, seeing her and the beefy dark-headed guy all chummy over some fancy cup of joe.

            He brushed his teeth, rinsed, and grabbed the keys to the Expedition. He shouldn’t have even been in that part of the city again last night anyway. The only reason he’d been in the area at all was to pick up a baby gift for one of the guys on the crew.

            The guy’s wife had registered at the fancy shmancy Pea in a Pod. That had been his original mission when he’d bumped into Ella the time before. The baby was a month old now and Luke was feeling plenty guilty at being so delinquent with a gift.

            After finally spending way too much for a bath towel and something the sales girl called ‘booties’, Luke had all but run from the store, feeling like a kid just set free on the last day of school.

            And he’d almost run smack into Ella.

            She hadn’t seen him as she stepped from the taxi and paid the driver. Luke’s heart raced as he went down the list of possible things to do in that moment. Say hello and then keep going. Grab her and kiss her like he really wanted to do. Pull her aside and plead for another chance for them.

            In the end, Ella had decided for him. With excitement in her eyes and a spring in her step, she’d disappeared inside the coffee shop before he’d developed a plan. It was moments later, when he’d risked a peek through the glass windows that he’d seen her, head tossed back, laughing with the hunk at the counter.

            The mental math was easy from there. She’d pulled away from him. The coffee shop was a meeting place for a singles club. The name Blended Hearts had spelled it out for him in simple black-and-white. For whatever reason—and he couldn’t figure out that reason for the life of him—Ella had turned her back on their developing relationship. Now she was inside, laughing and having a good time with another guy. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure this one out.

            In that single moment, several things came into clarity for him and presented him with more irony that he knew possible. In an office on the corner, Tessa—his ex love—came and went, pursuing that elusive modeling career that had ultimately meant more to her than he had. And in a coffee shop just down the street, now sat  Ella—the woman he feared he now loved—and she wanted nothing to do with him.

            Luke’s heart felt like it had been speared, and not for the first time.

            Now he slammed the driver’s side door of the SUV and roared the engine to life. He’d known better, and yet he’d allowed his heart to do the decision-making for him. Now all the old scars tormented him again. With every passing mile, he was reminded of what a fool he’d been to get involved with anyone in the business.

            Even a sweet, fledgling reality star like Ella.

 *****

             The fax must have been slipped beneath her hotel room door sometime during the night. Ella found it as she stumbled to the bathroom after her five a.m. wake-up call from the front desk. She picked it up and flipped on the entry way light, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the brightness. The Cooking Channel logo topped the single sheet and one short paragraph followed.

 All remaining five finalists are to meet in Sound Stage C at ten o’clock a.m. Wear interview appropriate attire. You’ve been honing your culinary ability, personality, and TV skills, now it’s time to share what you’ve learned with America!

             Ella read the brief paragraph again and cringed. She tried to decipher the cryptic message. Dress for interviews…Time to share with America…Her mind ran through a short list of possibilities, but she quickly gave it up. She’d already learned enough to know that just as soon as you think you’ve got the contest figured out, they go and throw you a curve ball. She could speculate about the what-if’s from now till whenever and still not guess the game plan. It was best to simply do as the fax instructed.

            She’d dress in the only suit she’d brought along, force herself to eat a bowl of Raisin Bran downstairs, and then take a car to the studio. Then, and only then, would she allow her mind to run ahead and consider all the viable possibilities.

            Piling her hair on top of her head, she secured it with a tortoise-shell clip. She toyed with the idea of leaving it down—loose, the way Luke liked it. But thoughts of Luke only made her sad so she stuck the clip in place and forgot about it.

            Everyone except Torrie was already in the green room when Ella arrived at a quarter till ten. The others looked about as uneasy as she felt. Ben—dressed in pressed black Wranglers and a long-sleeved cowboy shirt—twirled a black Stetson in his hands.

            “Did you get the fax?” He looked a little pale.

            “Yep. Has anyone been down here yet to let us know anything?”

            Henry shook his head. “Not a peep. They’re definitely keeping us in the dark on this one.” To emphasize his point, Henry played with the light switch, sending the room in and out of darkness. “Hey, I guess you’ve heard the one about the three Aggies and the light switch?”

            With Deidra no longer there to quench Henry’s penchant for corny jokes, the rest of the finalists just let the bait lay in the still air between them. No one felt much like answering riddles. Neither did they feel like telling Henry to quit throwing them out there.

            Henry shrugged as the door to the green room opened. Torrie walked in, looking like a million bucks. In a suit the exact shade of creamy taupe as her tanned skin, matching eel skin pumps and a hair do that could only have been done in a salon, she looked ready for the catwalk at one of the city’s prominent fashion houses.

            “Morning!” Her smile included Ella, a big surprise after her frosty indifference from the day before. “Ready for the next challenge, people?”

            Ben let out a low whistle. “Just what do you think this challenge is, Miss Torrie with an ‘ie’, that has you dressed to the nines?”

            Torrie stuck out her tongue as she perched on the sofa next to him. She reached out and captured the Stetson from his hands. “I don’t know. Probably the same thing that has you outfitted in these fancy duds.”

            Patty stood up and came to stand with Ella at the coffee service. “I…I’m not s…sure about th…this. What if I c…can’t do it?” With Ella’s encouragement Patty had begun to open up a bit more with the others. But she still came to Ella when she needed a boost of confidence.

            Ella emptied a packet of Splenda into her coffee and stirred. Turning, she smiled at the woman who was fast becoming a real friend. “Pretend you’re in the kitchen, Patty. You don’t have a problem there, right? You’re brilliant, even in front of the cameras. Hey,” she shrugged, “that’s better than the rest of us on most days!”

            Ben came and stood behind them. Ella smiled as he slipped a muscled arm around Patty’s shoulder. “You’re going to do great, Patty. We’re behind you.”

            That was the funny thing about this entire crazy competition. With the exception of maybe Torrie, they were all in the same corner. Only one of them would walk away with their own restaurant, but until that point, they had each other’s backs. Ella hoped she’d be the winner; hoped her time away from Chloe hadn’t been for nothing. Still, no matter what happened during these last couple of challenges, she knew she’d be going home with new friends in her heart.

            And didn’t that already make her a winner?

 *****

             The next challenge took them all by surprise.

            At a quarter after ten that morning, they were finally summoned from the green room to the floor of Sound Stage C. Once again, the studio had undergone a makeover. This time it was set up for a press conference and the room was filled with reporters from all the major networks and newspapers. Ella recognized Shari Hart from Entertainment Now in the front row.

            “It gives us great pleasure at this time to introduce the final five to you.” Nathan Charleton addressed the press. “They’ll tell you a little about themselves and then be available to answer your questions.” He gestured for Ella, who’d drawn first in this challenge. “Please give a big hand to Ella Paglia, from Milltown, Louisiana!”

            Ella ran her tongue over her lips and tried to still the quivering in her stomach. She’d finally conquered some of her on-camera fears, but this challenge took things to a whole new level. Knowing her every word and move would be recorded for that evening’s slate of news and entertainment was sobering, to say the least.

            Walking to the podium, she smiled at Nathan Charleton and paused for the brief kiss he placed on her cheek. “Good morning, thank you for coming.” Taking a deep breath, she delved into the short biographical narrative she’d had all of five minutes to organize. She told them about Chloe, about their life in Milltown, and of her desire to use this opportunity to show her small daughter that it is never too late in life to pursue your dreams.

            A generous applause erupted at the end of her speech. Ella’s veins pulsed with relief that that part, at least, was now behind her. She smiled as Shari Hart raised a hand, signaling she had a question. The woman looked much smaller in person.

            “Ms. Paglia, what has this experience taught you?”

            “That’s easy.” She nodded. “I’m glad you asked that. I’ve not only gained invaluable insights into how much goes into making a food show, but I’ve also gained another resource. Friends.”

            Ella pointed to the other four finalists, waiting for their turn in front of the press. “These people have become like an extended family to me. Their support and friendship have made this time away from home and from my daughter bearable.”

            “Thank you, Ella.” Nathan Charleton smiled a dismissal and Ella thankfully exited the makeshift stage.

            She slipped into a chair next to Patty, who promptly reached over and squeezed her hand.

            “…Torrie Tyler, from Mobile, Alabama!”

            Torrie rose from her chair with the grace of a Greek goddess and somehow—though Ella certainly didn’t know how in those six-inch stilettos—model-walked to the podium.

            “Thank you.” She flashed a zillion-watt smile then turned to the side, glancing over her shoulder with a sultry pout. “That’s Torrie, with an ‘ie’.”

            Ella resisted the urge to laugh, and just shook her head.

            “Hey,” Ben leaned forward and whispered, “She’s doing that Paris Shelton thing, isn’t she? I’m gonna pass plumb out if she pulls a stinking Chihuahua named Stinkerbell out of that bag of hers!”

            “That’d be…hot!” Henry slapped his thigh and howled at his own imitation.

            “Sh!” Ella grinned and winked at Patty. The truth was it did seem as though Torrie was interviewing at the end of a red carpet rather than on behalf of The Cooking Channel. It was all quite entertaining. No doubt it would be Torrie’s photo that made the front page entertainment section of the Gazette.

            “Ms. Tyler,” A reporter in the back stood and raised his hand high in the air. “Ms. Paglia has already told us how she feels about the other finalists. She considers them her friends. Do you agree? Or are there some secret rivalries you’d like to share?”

            A slim finger of apprehension poked Ella in the ribs as Torrie leveled a frosty gaze straight in her direction. What was the girl going to do? Or say? Ella sucked in a deep breath, holding it as she waited to see.

            “Well, they’re lovely people.” Torrie gave a demur nod. “But we’re all here to win. And some of us…well, some of us are willing to go to…shall we say, great lengths, to win.”

            Immediately there was a rising crescendo as reporters leaped to their feet. Everyone wanted this on tape. They wanted details, names. Torrie had hand-fed them hints of scandal. Now they were like hungry dogs, sniffing around her feet for more.

            Torrie struck another pose as the cameras panned in, flashbulbs going off in rapid fire motion. Then utter and complete silence as she opened her pink lips to speak.

            “One of us—and I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say who—is not afraid to do whatever she must to win small favors.”

            Ella froze as Torrie’s icy blue eyes zeroed in on her. “Evidently dating a camera man earns you extra points around here.”

    Chapter Eighteen

             Luke’s first instinct was to shut the camera off.

            But even if he did, he knew there were thirty other cameras still recording every word—every antic—this pathetic creature of a girl was tossing out. Indignation flamed inside his gut as Torrie Tyler’s words boomeranged inside his head. The nerve of that gal, what did she think she was doing? Could she be so dense to think this would help her standing in the competition?

            “Keep rolling, man.” Kurt’s voice crackled through Luke’s headset.

            Luke’s jaw throbbed from clenching his teeth too tightly. “Copy that.”

            Sound Stage C was a motion of activity. Reporters pushed to the front, mini-recorders held high, cell phone cameras angled to catch every sultry syllable out of Torrie’s mouth. Cameramen from the various newspapers crouched in a long line in front of the podium. Flashbulbs popped every couple of seconds, each one of them sending Torrie Tyler’s little escapade that much further into the public eye.

            Luke felt sick to his stomach.

            Not for himself. He could care less what the ramifications of this press conference might hold for him. His nose was clean; he’d made sure not to put Ella at risk before he’d ever approached her for the first time.

            He worried about Ella.

            From his position behind his camera, he couldn’t see her. But his heart felt her pain, the inevitable embarrassment she must be feeling. In spite of the revelations of the past twenty-four hours and the realization that his feelings for Ella might never be reciprocated, Luke’s heart and head wanted only the same thing. To be at her side.

            The only good thing he could say in Torrie’s favor right now was that at least she’d refrained from naming names. With any luck—and with a whole lot of damage control—maybe the incident would pass without Ella being placed on the front burner.

            Luke zoomed in tight on Torrie as she leaned toward the microphone again. Out of nowhere, it seemed, there appeared two people on either side of her. Luke recognized them as network honchos—Anita Garber and Fred Zanderfeld. He watched in amazement as Anita took Torrie’s arm and whispered something in her ear before leading her off the stage. Fred took the podium, thanked everyone for coming, and abruptly called an end to the press conference.

            Luke waited for the countdown from the control booth, anxious to shut down filming and find out how Ella was. All he wanted right now was to pull her close and hold her head against his chest. He fidgeted. Was it a curse to have such strong feelings for a woman who obviously didn’t return them? It sure felt like one.

            Two things were clear to Luke. One, he loved Ella Paglia. God help him, it might make him a crazy man, but he did. Two, as much as he wanted to simply walk away from this and give Ella all the space she wanted, the protectiveness he felt toward her dictated that he seek her out and make sure she was okay. If it meant his heart would take another trampling if she refused to speak to him, then so be it. Laying his head down in peace at night was something Luke strove for each day. He’d never be able to do that tonight if he knew he’d left Ella to face the wolves of this industry alone.

            “…three…two…one. You’re outta there, Luke.”

            Finally. Luke shut the camera off, pulled out the disk, and ran it up to the control booth. Three other camera men were there ahead of him. The small space fairly hummed with the rarely seen version of male gossip.

            “Who was she talking about down there, huh?” One of the newer guys unwrapped a stick of gum and stuck it in his mouth. “And who’s the camera man she outted?”

            Luke considered telling the guy that no one had been “outted” since he obviously knew no names. He decided it wasn’t worth the effort. The quieter he stayed about the whole mess, the better off he’d be.

            Ernie leaned against Kurt’s desk and leveled a gaze at him. Luke wondered if Ernie expected him to admit that he was the one who’d been seeing one of the finalists. That would release the other guys from being put on the hot seat in all this, a fact he’d just now considered. Luke raised an eyebrow, but Ernie shook his head slightly and narrowed his eyes.

            “Guys, unless the network comes forward with any questions, I think we’d better just let this one go.” Ernie stood and clapped the new guy on the back. “It’s none of our business anyway, right?”

            New guy popped his gum. “Right, but man, I just wanted to congratulate the guy, whoever he is. It had to be that hot chick, Ella! I mean, who else is there—Pixie Patty? Yeah, right, like she’s a possibility…”

            Luke started forward, his right hand folding into a tight fist. Kurt was on his feet in a flash, neatly stepping between Luke and his intended target. Ernie clapped the guy’s shoulder again and motioned them all toward the door.

            “Let’s get out of here. Kurt’s got work to do, don’t you, buddy?”

            Kurt grinned. “There’s always work.” He glanced at his watch. “Take an early lunch, guys. Be back by two. And expect a late night. We’ll have to edit today’s tapes and see what the network wants to save from this fiasco.”

 *****

             Ella’s cheeks burned.

            Even now, an hour after Torrie was led off camera, Ella battled the humiliation those brief few moments incurred. She didn’t know if she felt anger or embarrassment, or, more likely, a mixture of both. She only knew she’d never felt more alone. Even after Stephen’s death she’d had Reggie and Chloe. With them now over a thousand miles away, Ella felt like an island—lost and remote from the rest of the world.

            With one exception. If Torrie’s little spiel yielded the desired effect, Ella would no longer be invisible to the rest of the world. Her name would make headlines in every tabloid out there. Photos of her would crop up from seemingly nowhere. Ella had read enough People and seen enough Entertainment Now to know how these things worked. The paparazzi would have a high school picture of her plastered in their rag before she could blink twice.

            “Are you o…okay?” Patty sat next to her on the sofa. The four finalists sat in the green room, waiting for Nathan Charleton to let them know what to do next. Patty reached out now and clasped Ella’s hand.

            Ella nodded, but didn’t meet the woman’s eyes. How could she look at Patty? Patty had to have made the connection. The two of them were the only females left in the competition. Obviously Patty knew Torrie wasn’t talking about her, so that left one person.

            Patty knew Ella had gone out with one of the cameramen.

            Ben lounged in an overstuffed chair across from them, his black Stetson balanced on one knee. “Torrie had no business pulling a stunt like that.” He ran his fingers through his tousled hair. “I thought the gal had more class than that.”

            “Me too.” For once Henry seemed at a loss for jokes. Or maybe he just had more control over the corny joke department than they’d given him credit for. He leaned forward now and anchored his elbows on his knees. “It’s just us now. The Four Musketeers, together till the end.” He held out a fist. “One for all?”

            Ben grinned and laid a fist on top of Henry’s. Patty followed suit, giving Ella a reassuring glance. Ella placed her fist on top of Patty’s. “And all for one.”

            Thirty minutes later, Ella was thankful for their support as she sat stiff and upright in an upholstered chair in Fred Zanderfeld’s third-floor office. Nathan Charleton had already met with the four of them, informing them of Torrie’s imminent departure. Evidently she’d breached the confidentiality agreement they’d all signed at the beginning of the competition. With zero tolerance for this type of infraction, Torrie was sent to the Radisson to pack her belongings for a return trip to Mobile.

            Now they were meeting—one on one—with Fred Zanderfeld, the president of Dreamcaster Productions. A tall, thin stylish man, Fred Zanderfeld sat behind his desk and gazed at her over the rims of his small silver reading glasses. His gray eyes—though they seemed kind enough—gave no indication as to what he was about to say to her. Ella tried not to fidget as she waited for him to say something. Anything.

            “Can I have my secretary bring you anything? Coffee, a cup of tea?”

            A valium, please? “No, thank you,” she smiled.

            “Very well.” He pushed his glasses to the top of his head and leaned forward over the desk. “I’m very sorry for this inconvenience. It is the network’s intention to make sure that full restitution is made to the remaining four finalists. Yourself included, of course.”

            Huh? “Thank you, sir.” Ella nodded. When was he going to ask her about Luke?

            “I’ll be issuing a full statement to the press later this afternoon.” He flattened his palms on the desk as though he were examining his nails. Nails that were in better shape than her own, Ella noticed. “This should dispel all gossip and put an end to future stories.”

            Ella held her breath, almost afraid to believe her ears.

            “This has been a most unfortunate incident. One the network deeply regrets. However,” he pulled out a nail file and ran it a couple of times over the nail of his right index finger, “we fully support Restaurant 101. There’s absolutely no reason why this competition shouldn’t proceed as planned.”

            Fred Zanderfeld replaced the nail file with meticulous care, rose from his chair, and reached across the desk for her hand. “Ms. Paglia, I wish you the best in this competition. May the best chef…I don’t know…stay in the kitchen!” He chuckled at his own stab at humor.

            “Thank you, sir.” Ella shook his hand vigorously, more to disguise the shaking of her own knees rather than sheer enthusiasm.

by Staci Wilder

                         Chapter Sixteen

            Ella’s heart was divided during the short cab ride back to the Radisson.

            Ben and Henry were going to check out a neighborhood comedy club and had invited her to join them. Torrie had continued to ignore Ella, ducking out of the studio as soon as the elimination ceremony ended. Even Patty had plans—her husband was flying in from Iowa, planning to spend the remainder of the competition close to her side.

            Ella knew she had every reason to celebrate. Surviving tonight’s elimination ceremony meant another small victory, one step closer to the realization of the dream she so desperately wanted for herself, and for Chloe.

            But the victory seemed hollow without any firm resolutions with Luke. She’d looked for him on set today, but someone said he’d taken the day off. So she’d been shocked to see him as she’d left the studio. She’d wanted to say so much, and yet had left so much unsaid.

            After last night’s fiasco at Café  Med, there really wasn’t anything left to say.

           As drunk as she was, Torrie had been able to articulate, in a matter of a few sloppy seconds, the very things Ella’s heart had tried to ignore. Now that the truth had been laid out—no matter how dissected it may have been—there was no reining it back in. It was out there. The sooner she accepted it, the sooner she’d have Luke Abney purged from her heart and mind.

            Stephen Paglia had been the love of her life. Was the love of her life. He’d been the one to hold her hand as she crossed that invisible line between girlhood and womanhood. He’d been her first in every sense of the word. The first to hold her hand. The first boy to kiss her. The first—the only—man who’d touched her body and had shown her the power of love between a man and a woman.

            The fact that she could so easily be attracted to another man frightened her. But even more than that, it shamed her. Stephen had loved her fiercely, right up until the very end, before he drew his last, ragged breath.

            “I love you, Ella girl.” His voice—raspy from the chemo—was soft in her ear. “I’ll always watch over you.” His eyes had been closed, but he’d held her hand tightly. “You and Chloe. I’ll always be with you, El.”

            The memory of that last night with Stephen shot through Ella’s senses and she shivered. Those words had been her comfort for so many weeks and months after the funeral. Though she’d lost faith in God, Ella clung to the belief that somehow Stephen really was watching over her and Chloe. That hope brought a small measure of peace. Enough for her to drag herself out of bed the next day, anyway.

            What had happened to that belief? If Stephen was watching now—Ella couldn’t bring herself to finish that thought. Shame flushed her cheeks and she fought the hot tears that stung the backs of her eyes.

            He’d be crushed, that’s what. Her mind ran ahead of her, in spite of the pain these thoughts caused her. The mental image of Stephen observing her with Luke—laughing, holding hands, flirting—was almost more than she could bear. What had she been thinking? How could she let go of Stephen so readily, so easily?

            Ella scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, relieved to see the taxi pulling up to the curb of the hotel. All she wanted now was the sanctity of her room.

            The lobby of the Radisson buzzed with people. It was Friday night in LA—Ella’s second weekend in the City of Lights and her heart just didn’t feel up to the celebration. Weaving her way through the maze of bodies, she stood in line at the elevators.

            Her eyes went unbidden to the cluster of chairs where she and Luke had spent so many hours just days ago. An elderly man with a pot belly now occupied the chair Luke had sat in. But even the sight of the portly man couldn’t dim the image she carried of Luke in his starched khakis and button-down.

            Ella rode the elevator up to the third floor. But once in her room, the restlessness inside her only grew. Talking to Chloe helped some, but the little girl was at a McDonald’s playground with Reggie. Taking a break from the Ronald McDonald slide to talk to Mommy wasn’t her idea of a good time.

            “I can’t believe Reggie Bradshaw is actually sitting in a McDonald’s.” Ella laughed when Reggie rescued her cell phone from the floor where Chloe had dropped it. “Are they serving filet mignon now? Grilled halibut?”

            “Very funny, girl.” Reggie’s voice sounded lighter than it had in years. “I think maybe I’ve developed a palate for Big Macs, believe it or not!”

            Ella dissolved in giggles and stretched across the bed. “You have not!” She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “That process is painful, and takes…I don’t know, sometimes months to cultivate!”

            “Yeah, well, you know me. I’m a quick learner.”

            Reggie’s deep laugh reached through the line and across the miles. Ella felt her stomach lurch. She missed home. She longed for the simple things that she’d been unable to pack in her suitcases back in Milltown. Things like watching Chloe play on the playground. Munching on French fries even though they ate up too many Weight Watcher points. Hanging out with Reggie.

            “So how was today?” Her best friend’s voice sliced through her thoughts. “I assume you survived the elimination tonight, right? Or are you calling to say that you’re packing your bags and are catching the red-eye to come rescue me from the perils of Big Mac attacks?”

            Ella giggled again, but this time a sob caught in her throat. “Um. No, I’m still in it.”

            “Hey, what is it, El? Are you crying?”

            “No. Well, not really.” Ella covered her eyes with one hand. How best to explain to your best friend that you’re doing great in a competition that she herself sacrificed to help get you to—and yet now all you want is to turn in your apron and come running home? “I’m fine, really. Just tired, I guess.”

            “Are you sure you’re okay? Is everyone playing nice?”

            “Yes, everyone’s great.” No need in discussing Torrie now—there’d be time enough for that after the competition. “I guess that’s what makes this reality series different. We really do wish we could all be winners.”

            “And Mr. Blond?” Reggie’s voice dripped with honey. “How’s the cutie?”

            Ella sat up on the bed and pulled her knees up to her chest. “Reg—I don’t know.”

            There was a rustle on the other end of the line. “Hey, El, hang on a minute, will you?” More rustling, then a muted, Chloe Paglia, you come back here!

            Ella’s tears trailed down to her smiling mouth as she listened to Reggie try to cajole Chloe from some hiding place. Ella could imagine Reggie trying to wiggle her way through the narrow brightly colored tunnel in a desperate attempt to capture the active toddler before she turned the corner out of reach. What she wouldn’t give to be with the two of them right now…

            “Sorry ‘bout that, Ella.” Reggie was huffing. “Your …daughter went up…the slide—backwards, I might add—and…I had to go…up…after her!”

            “Aw, you’re such a good auntie.” Ella grinned. Now that was a Kodak moment if ever there’d been one.

            “Okay, let me catch my breath! That’s right, Chloe, stay right here where Aunt Reg can watch you, ‘kay?” Another deep breath. “Now what were you saying about Mr. Blond?”

            “It’s over.”

            “Over? How can it be over? When did it start?” Reggie’s voice sounded almost confused as Ella felt.

            “I guess there’s a lot I haven’t told you.” Ella couldn’t believe so much had happened since she’d left Louisiana two weeks ago. “He’s wonderful—Luke, I mean. Truly a wonderful man, Reggie.”

            “Mmhm. Okay, so what’s the problem? He’s not married, is he? Or gay?”

            Ella laughed. “No, nothing like that. Reg, listen to this. He even prayed for me one night before an elimination. Out loud.”

            “Uh-oh.” Reggie paused. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I mean, he’s not some weirdo, stalker-guy, is he? He doesn’t like, preach on the street corners, does he?”

            “No, silly. Nothing like that.” Ella hunted for a way to explain Luke. “He is gentle, and kind, and understanding. And it is obvious that his faith is very important to him.”

            Ella could hear Reggie adjust the straw in her cup and then take a slurp of drink. She waited. They’d been friends long enough for Ella to know Reggie was using these seconds to think.

            “I’m not sure I understand, Ella.” Reggie finally answered. “I mean, those qualities sound like the very ones you look for in a man. At least, the ones you used to look for. Remember when you started dating Stephen?”

            Ella dropped her head to her knees, and squeezed her eyes shut. Reggie’s words hit her heart dead-center, like a dart on a target. She remembered, all right. Ella had refused all of Stephen’s advances until she’d done some checking, and realized that he really did attend church faithfully. Their first date had been to a college and career baseball game her church had sponsored. They’d spent the entire two hours, high in the bleachers, doing nothing but talking. By the time they’d said their good-nights, Ella had known she’d found a man who shared her faith in God.

            Now, years later, she’d met a man she could talk to again. A man who made her feel all those exciting, wild emotions Ella thought would never be hers again. While Stephen would always remain safe in her heart, Ella now knew there was a longing inside her that Stephen could no longer fulfill. The realization made her sick with guilt.

            And then there was the fact that Luke Abney wore his faith like other men wore their favorite team T-shirts: boldly emblazoned for all to see. Knowing what she’d gone through…How she’d prayed and believed and trusted God, only to lose Stephen anyway…

            “That’s part of the problem, I think. I don’t know that I could ever share that part of his life.” She tried to explain it to Reggie. “You know how I feel about this, Reggie. I love it that there are people like Luke that have such a strong faith in prayer and in healing…But I can’t go there. Not again. Not after—”

            Ella didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t have to. Reggie had been the one with her night after night through those first few lonely weeks. Nights when she’d punched her pillow, wet with her salty tears, railing at God for ignoring her pleas to spare Stephen’s life. The voice of God had been as quiet to her then as it had been during Stephen’s illness. She’d given up then. Decided that kind of faith just wasn’t for her.

            “I’m not even going to pretend to know just how you’re feeling, Ella. You know about me and my background with church and God. Or rather, the lack of background.”

            Reggie had been raised by parents who’d not only shunned church, but had kept their children from attending Sunday School as well. While Reggie certainly didn’t begrudge anyone who attended church, she’d been raised to believe that a person was responsible for their own life. If you had a good life then it was because you got out there and worked hard for it. Made things happen. If you experienced rough spots then you had to pull yourself up by the bootstraps and try harder.

            This difference had been a brief bone of contention in their relationship, during their college years. It wasn’t until later that Ella had realized it wasn’t a lack of faith on Reggie’s part. She simply didn’t know God.

            Yet it had been Reggie who’d held her close during her darkest days, whispering for her to hold onto her faith. Not to give up. Ella had wondered, during those grief-filled nights, why her friend urged her to hang onto something to which Reggie, herself, didn’t lay claim.

            “Ella, honey, we need to talk about this more. We really do. But your daughter is getting tired. I think she may have fallen asleep inside the tunnel!”

           Ella could hear Reggie start for the playground, and then a few whispered words. Ella could picture her friend scooping her sleepy daughter into her arms. She longed to feel those baby arms wrapped around her own neck.

            “Okay, El, I’ve got her. We’re about to head home. Want me to call you later?”

            “No, you go ahead and get some rest yourself. Sounds like you need it.” She glanced at her watch. “I think I may go out by myself for a while. It’s only eight o’clock here.”

            “You do that, honey. And Ella, you’re doing great! Just think, a couple more challenges and you’ll be America’s next IT girl!”

            Ha! That was a hoot! Maybe for a show like Laugh-In.  Reggie hadn’t been around to see the lobster incident. Or the case of the screwed-up teleprompter.

            Or Luke Abney’s eyes when she stepped off the elevator wearing the black dress. Or the way his finger had toyed with her hair. And there was no way for Reggie to know the delightful things that happened to Ella’s heart every time Luke was around. But there also was no way to tell her best friend that her heart had betrayed her husband in the process.

            For that, Ella felt no redemption.

            Restless and hurting, Ella scrambled to her feet and hunted for her shoes. Suddenly the hotel room seemed cramped and confining. Like the walls would absolutely close in on her if she didn’t get out fast. Grabbing her purse, she headed out, not having a clue where she might go. Anywhere is better than staying here.

            Ten minutes later, Ella stood in the hotel foyer, thumbing through the brochure stand. Surely there was something in the area that appealed to her. Something besides the obvious nightlife. It seemed as though almost everything in LA revolved around trendy restaurants, cozy pubs, or jazzy nightclubs. Ella hoped for a quieter evening. No, wait—it was an absolute requirement for tonight.

            She smiled, remembering the brochure she still carried in her bag. The one with the kitschy title: Blended Hearts: Simple Solutions  for Single Parents. The information inside had been nothing like she’d expected to see.

            As it turned out, Blended Hearts had nothing to do with the dating scene, but everything to do with single parenthood. A monthly support group that met once a month, Blended Hearts covered issues like how to handle being the only disciplinarian and what to do when your child asks difficult questions about his absentee parent.

            Ella pulled it out now. Lex had said the group met the third Friday of each month. That would be tonight. If she didn’t like it, or felt out of place in the group, meeting in a place like Mocha Lights, should make taking an early exit a fairly simple thing to do.

            It certainly beat sitting upstairs in her hotel room, thinking about Luke Abney.

 *****

             A darkly handsome man looked up from behind the counter when Ella pulled open the doors of Mocha Lights. “Welcome!” His deep voice boomeranged in the quiet stillness of the shop.

            “You must be Micah.” She watched as he topped a drink with whipped cream, and then plunked a cherry on top. “This is your place, right?”

            “Every coffee bean, every book.” He smiled and Ella was struck by the warmth in his chocolate brown eyes. “And I am Micah. Micah Brenner.”

            “Hi, Micah. Nice to meet you.  I’m Ella.”

            “I take it this isn’t your first time here, Ella? ” Micah Brenner slid the drink across the counter to a waiting customer, nodding his thanks.

            “No,” she smiled, instantly liking the man. “I was here once before, when Lex was working.”

            Micah’s smile seemed to brighten at the boy’s name. “Ah, yes, Lex.” He nodded, his eyes taking on a far-away look. “That boy is really coming along. He’s been a big help to me.” He reached for a white towel, scrubbed it across his hands, and faced her again. “So, Ella, what can I get you?”

            Ella peered up at the chalkboard menu. She hated to think how many Weight Watcher flex points she’d have to use for another macchiato. But it had been so good…

            “Want to let me make you a house special?”

            Ella grinned. Why not? “Sure, go for it.”

            She watched as Micah moved about, obviously very at home in this element. He popped open cans, operated levers on the machines, and added a mix of this and a bit of that, all the while chatting about the great LA weather.

            “Here you go, Miss Ella.” He set the drink in front of her. “Enjoy.”

            “How much do I owe you?” Ella lifted the cup to her mouth and raised her eyebrows with delight. “Yum! This is really good!”

            “This one’s on the house. The first special is always my treat.”

            Ella felt her eyebrows rise in surprise. She’d have never guessed she’d find this kind of retreat from the hubbub she was beginning to know as LA, and certainly not this kind of hospitality.

            “Thank you. It’s delicious.” She took another sip and wiped a smudge of whipped cream from her upper lip. “Maybe you could answer a question for me.”

            “I’ll sure try.” Micah placed his hands on the counter and leaned forward. “What’s the question?”

            Ella sat the warm cup down and retrieved the brochure from her purse. “I was wondering about the Blended Hearts meeting. They meet here, right? Is it tonight?”

            A big grin creased his face. “Certainly is.” He glanced at the wall clock behind him. “Should get started in about ten minutes. Delaney Pruitt heads it up.” He nodded toward the front door. “That’s her coming in right now.”

            Ella turned to see a woman in her mid-forties—shoulder-length bob and sharp black-rimmed glasses—come through the door with a large shoulder bag and a stack of books.

            “Micah, I come bearing gifts.”

            “I see that.” The grin took up half Micah’s face as he hurried around the counter to relieve her of half her load. “Delaney, I’d like you to meet Ella. Ella, this is Delaney.” He held a barstool while Delaney Pruitt climbed up. “Ella here is interested in joining you tonight, Delaney.”

            Delight illuminated the woman’s face. Though not beautiful in the traditional sense, Ella found this woman fascinating, both in appearance and in energy. Behind her glasses, green eyes seemed to twinkle as they turned on Ella. “Really? How wonderful for us—a new face!”

            Ella shrugged, feeling a little conspicuous. “I’m just in town for a few days.” She pointed to the brochure. “I saw this in my hotel lobby.”

            Delaney Pruitt turned an appreciative gaze on Micah. “Guess you were right about that marketing plan, Mr. Brenner.”

            “I guess I was, Ms. Pruitt.”

            Ella looked from one to the other. They appeared to be close friends, but anyone within a ten foot radius of this couple could feel the energy they generated together. She almost felt like an intruder on their conversation. She took another slow sip of her coffee, wondering if they’d forgotten she was standing there.

            “Ella,” Delaney took the steaming cup of coffee Micah handed her and stood up. “Our group meets in the room just behind the books. We’d be honored to have you join us.”

            Ella nodded. “I’d love to.”

            She waved to Micah and then followed Delaney through the maze of shelves and books. She had no idea what to expect or who else she might meet. But the warmth and welcome she’d just received at the hands of two strangers filled her up. It was almost enough to make her forget about Luke Abney.

            Almost.

by Staci Wilder

                                       Chapter Fifteen

            The tension in the green room the next morning was thick enough to slice with a knife.

            Torrie sat in a chair, apart from the group, her forehead resting in her hand. Ella almost felt sorry for her. The poor girl must have a headache the size of Texas, after last night’s drinking spree.

            Deidra, still miffed at nearly being eliminated the day before, sat hunched on the sofa, glowering at anyone who dared look her way. Ben and Henry played a quiet game of cards in the corner. But the real clincher was that Henry seemed to have laid aside his jokes for a much quieter past-time. Ella found the change stark. Their reticent demeanors accentuated the palpable tension among the group of remaining contestants.

            Patty poured herself a cup of coffee from the food service table. She stirred in a packet of sugar and stared at Ella. For her part, Ella felt too disturbed over last night’s events and too anxious over today’s challenge to work up the effort to even care that scary Patty was doing the staring thing again.

            “What hap…happened?” Patty came and stood beside her.

            “Huh?” Ella closed the magazine she’d been flipping through. “What do you mean?”

            Patty pointed around the room. “Something’s dif…different today. Don’t you feel it?”

            Ella felt it all right. The needles of pain from Torrie’s comment on Stephen still gouged her. Sure the girl had been drunk beyond reason when she’d uttered them. But underneath the mean, bitter tone, Torrie’s words had hit on a small nugget of truth. A truth that Ella had wanted to ignore until last night.

            She only shrugged now and attempted a smile at Patty. “I don’t know.”

            “You o..o-kay?”

            Now it was Ella’s turn to stare. She’d never noticed Patty’s speech before. Thinking over the past couple of weeks, Ella couldn’t recall hearing the mysterious woman actually participate in a conversation. The stutter surprised her, but not nearly as much as when Patty sat down on the sofa next to her.

          “Uh…yeah, I’m okay.” Ella scooted over to make room.

            Patty’s eyes seemed to see through her. “This is tough, is..isn’t it? The comp…competition?” Again, she pointed to the others. “Meet…meet-ing new people.” The woman’s shoulders lifted slightly and she offered a tight grin. “At least that…that’s the hard…hard part for me.”

            “It is difficult, that’s for sure.” Ella nodded and twisted around to face Patty, shocked the woman was opening up. Even more shocked to realize she’d known this woman for weeks now and never knew she had a stutter. It had seemed Patty really wanted no part of the group and, apparently, she’d gotten her wish. Otherwise, one of them would have noticed the stutter, wouldn’t they?

             No one else in the room seemed to be paying the two of them any attention. That was fine with Ella. After last night’s episode with Torrie, she didn’t feel up to any more confrontations.

          This conversation with Patty seemed more important. Her heart went out to the woman as she labored to finish her sentences with minimal stuttering. She suddenly felt honored the woman trusted her enough to share her feelings.

            “I’m from…from a small farm…farming com…community.” Patty took a sip of her coffee and nodded. “From Iowa. I have fr…friends there, but…well, I don’t m…make friends ea…easily. Be…because of th…this.”

            Patty pointed to her mouth and Ella’s heart wrenched. This woman’s courage was awe inspiring. She darted a glance around the room again. If any of the others had paid any attention to their conversation they were doing a great job of pretending they hadn’t.

            How, Ella wondered, had every one of them spent this much time in close quarters with Patty and not known?

            “I kn…know ev…everybody th…thinks I…I’m weird.” Patty’s mouth trembled.

            “No!” Ella reached over and squeezed the woman’s knee. “That’s not it at all. We—” she indicated everyone in the room—“haven’t had a chance to know you. But I’d like that chance. Really, I would.” She smiled into the woman’s tear-filled eyes. “And I have a feeling the others would too.”

            Patty’s mouth twisted into a grin. “I…I don’t kn…know. Maybe th…this is the edge I n…need…”

            “Maybe so.” Ella teased back. “How’s it going for you? I mean, how do you handle the cameras, the pressure?” It was hard to ask such a delicate question, but how in the world did Patty hold up under this competition while battling such a severe case of stuttering?

            Patty shook her head, her short dark hair swinging with the movement. “It…it does…doesn’t hap…happen out th…there.”

            Ella felt her eyes widen in shock. “Oh, Patty,” she reached out and embraced the woman. “I’m still going to try to win this competition, I want you to know that.” She whispered in the woman’s ear. “But if I can’t win it, then I want you to know I’m rooting for you.”

 *****

             “And then there were six…” Nathan Charleton’s attempt at humor was lost on the finalists.

            Ella shifted to her other foot, anxious to learn about the next challenge and get started on it. The quicker she finished the challenges, the sooner she’d be back home with Chloe. And right now, there was no place Ella would rather be than in her run-down apartment in Milltown, cuddling her small daughter.

            Last night had been many things. Fun. Exciting. Adventurous.

            And then the inevitable drop.

            To guilt-ridden. Despair-driven. Heart-rending.

            Her heart had enjoyed a brief foray into something that might could be, only to learn by night’s end that it wasn’t in the cards, after all. Luke’s statement of faith had been the first hint. Like an idiot, she’d ignore it, wanting instead to bask in the glow Luke’s lavish attention cast over her.

            It had been Torrie’s drunken tirade that had driven the facts home in Ella’s heart. The comments about Stephen were nothing more than poison darts the girl had aimed in Ella’s direction. She understood that. But beneath the anger and the bitterness lay that glaring tiny seed of truth.

            That truth was enough to send Ella running.

            Now all that remained was to get through this competition. Win or lose, she’d find a way to forget all about Luke Abney.

            “Today’s challenge may prove to be enjoyable for you. We certainly hope so anyway. You’ve been working hard this week. So today—” he gestured to a long table with beautifully decorated cakes on top—“you’ll be decorating a cake. Each of you will receive your blue card with your individual break-downs. All you’re asked to do in this challenge is perform the break-down on your card. Don’t worry about the rest of the cake.”

            Ella’s interest was piqued, but suspicion nibbled at her excitement. It couldn’t be this simple, it never was. She glanced at Torrie, standing next to her, but she might as well be invisible. Torrie seemed to glare straight through her, not bothering to acknowledge her presence. Whether or not the girl remembered all the events of the night before was unclear to Ella, but Torrie had yet to speak one word to her in the past three hours.

            “This should be…a piece of cake!” Henry’s quip seemed to break the ice.

            Even Deidra gave way to nervous giggles before playfully bopping Henry on the head.

*****

            The finalists were in the big middle of their next challenge just below him.

           Luke sat in the control booth with Kurt. He’d switched assignments with Ernie, buying himself an afternoon free of camera duty. Now he lounged back, feet propped on Kurt’s desk, reading The Valley Sun.

            “Want to listen in?” Kurt turned, laughing, and offered him a headset. “You really need to see and hear all this. It’s hysterical.”

            “What’s up?” Luke glanced over the top the paper. He wasn’t too interested in seeing the day’s activities. That’s why he’d switched assignments with Ernie in the first place. Something had made Ella uncomfortable last night. Something more than Torrie’s obnoxious comments. Whatever it was, he sensed she connected him with this uncertainty. The last thing she needed right now was to have him hovering nearby with his camera. This competition was hers to win; he planned to stay out of her way until she did just that.

            “Hang on a second,” Kurt punched a few buttons, adjusting the monitor and feedback. “Okay. They’re decorating a cake, right? But what each of the contestants don’t know is that something has been rigged to go wrong in each of their demos. It’s a riot, man! You should see the looks on their faces!”

            “A riot?” Luke turned in spite of himself and scooted his chair closer to the large window that overlooked Sound Stage C. “Sounds cruel, if you ask me.”

            Kurt shrugged. “Maybe. But it makes for good TV, you know?”

            Luke blew out a frustrated breath and tried to stifle the impulse to belt Kurt. “See? That’s why I don’t like reality television. It’s pointless. All it does is prey on people’s weaknesses. What’s the fun in that?”

            Kurt howled. “Come on, man. Put on these phones. Check out Cowboy Ben! He can’t figure out why the stupid cake won’t come out of the pan!”

            Luke stared down at the studio floor and slid the headset over his ears. Turning the volume up a bit he zeroed in on Ben’s monologue.

            “Uh, okay, folks. Normally, the cake would come out of the pan. I repeat, this is not normal.” All the while Ben banged on the bottom of the metal pan with a wooden spoon. It was only after five minutes and a basic retraction with a sharp knife, that the cake slid unwillingly to the platter.

            Marnie called a wrap to the segment and poor Ben was left with a mangled cake—no decorations whatsoever.

            Luke had to grin at Ben’s expression. Confusion lined his tanned face as he huddled with Miriam, trying to glean some clear answers to his questions.

            “They’re not going to tell them until the elimination ceremony that they’ve all been rigged. The point is to see how well they can handle it when things go haywire.”

            “Hmm.” Luke pulled the headset off. The challenge actually made sense. Things often went wrong on set, and it made sense that they would be in a restaurant setting as well. A chef needed to be able to think on his feet. Above all, he needed to remember the cardinal rule and never stop the show.

            A new worry niggled at Luke’s conscience. “Has Ella taken her turn yet?”

            “Huh?” Kurt pushed back his own headset. “Ella? Uh, no, not yet. Wait, it looks like she’s up next.”

            Luke didn’t know if he could watch this, just sit here and be a mere spectator while Ella had her whole demo booby-trapped. Yet the sight of her on the floor below him kept him close. He sighed and slid the headphones back on.

            He couldn’t help watching anymore than he could help falling in love with Ella Paglia.

 *****

             Ella walked on set and took her place behind the counter. She waited for Marnie’s countdown, revved up her Colgate smile, and trained her eyes on the teleprompter.

            “On five…four…three…two…one!” Marnie’s arm came down.

            “Hi, welcome back. I’m Ella Paglia and today we’re decorating this beautiful yellow cake. The first thing we’re going to do is prepare our icing. We’ll use 2 tsp. of white—”

            Ella paused and squinted at the teleprompter. It said two teaspoons of white rice vinegar, but she knew that couldn’t be right. Vanilla is what the recipe called for and vanilla was the item on the demo tray. She hurried to fill in the silence.

            “That’s right,” she smiled into the camera, “two teaspoons of vanilla. To that we’ll add one egg—“

            The teleprompter read ‘eggplant’. Ella blew out a frustrated breath, making sure the Colgate grin never wavered. “One egg, slightly beaten. When you’ve done that, you’ll gradually add in the powdered do—“

            The word ‘donuts’ marched across the teleprompter. This time it took all Ella could do not to giggle. She was being set up, no doubt about it. “The one things you don’t want to do, folks, is dump in a powdered donut, but powdered sugar would be a good thing. About a one-fourth cup.”

            It wasn’t until two hours later, at the next elimination ceremony that she learned the full story. Nathan Charleton stood in front of the finalists, a huge grin splitting his face.

          “Cowboy Ben, you’ll be relieved to hear this, as will you all. This is the only time in this competition that this will happen. But today each of your demos was rigged to fail.”

            Ella smiled at the chorus of groans. Evidently she’d been fortunate enough to figure out that something was amiss much earlier than the others. Deidra, next to her uttered a hushed curse.       

            “Some of you experienced difficulties with the cake itself. A couple others had impossibly runny icing, not fit to frost anything! And then a couple of you had technical difficulties, either with the teleprompter or with the lighting.”

            “Or lack of lighting…” Henry chimed. “I had to ice a cake in the dark, people.”

            “The point,” Nathan Charleton went on, “was to see how calm you could stay when the things you’d planned for went awry. The judges were pleased to notice that a few of you kept your wits and your sense of humor. A couple of others, unfortunately, didn’t fare as well. Judges—” the host moved aside—“you can take it from here.”

            The judge named Tom stepped forward. “Thank you, Nathan. These are the names of the finalists that we’d like to stay for the next round of Restaurant 101.”

            He paused and Ella sucked in a breath.

            “Henry…Patty…Ella…Torrie. We’d like you to stay for the next challenge. Ben and Deidra, please step forward.”

            Ella listened to Jordan Elliott caution Ben not to panic under pressure. “Use your horse sense, cowboy. Just shoot from the hip till all your dogies are in place again.”

             Ben turned a pretty shade of pink, but nodded his head. Apparently it was an analogy he could relate to.

            “Deidra, at the last elimination ceremony we cautioned you against slips of the tongue. Yet today you had the same issue. Deidra, we’re going to have to ask you to leave the competition. Ben, we’re inviting you to stay for the next round.”

 *****

             “Ella, wait.”

            She turned at the sound of Luke’s voice and waited while he jogged the short distance to her. “Hey,” she said as he caught up.

            “Hey, yourself.” He grinned. “And congratulations! You made it through another round!” He held the outside studio door open for her.

            “I’m not quite sure how.” Ella stepped out into the bright late afternoon sunshine. “The competition’s getting stiff.” She couldn’t resist a grin. “Did you see this last challenge?”

            “Do you mean the one where you added powdered donuts to your recipe?” Luke howled and reached out, placing a hand on her lower back, guiding her to a shady spot.

            She reached out and poked him in the side with a finger. “That’s the one.” She laughed. “I don’t think I’ll ever look at a teleprompter in the same way again!”

            “You did great.”

            Luke’s voice, warm and close, tickled Ella’s senses.

            “Ella,” his voice changed, going an octave lower, and Ella braced for his next words, not quite trusting herself to look up at him. “I’m so sorry about last night.”

            “I know. I’m sorry too.” She looked down again, the shame from the night before and all it stood for coming to rest in the air between them. “About a lot of things.”

            “Not about seeing me, I hope.” There was just the hint of uncertainty in Luke’s voice. He reached out to touch her arm, and then let his fingers slowly trail down to her hand. “Do we dare try another dinner out?”

            Ella watched as he laced his fingers through hers. The warmth of this skin against hers felt wonderful and it would have been so easy to lean into him, to give in to the feelings he stirred in her. Had she learned nothing from last night’s disaster? Even if she one day felt a release to love again, how in the world could her heart choose Luke? Torrie’s poisoned comments had painted dark clouds over a potentially beautiful canvas and, right now, Ella didn’t see how it could all be salvaged.

            “Can we take it one day at a time?” She tried for a smile, and hoped it passed as such.

            “Sure.” Luke raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers lightly. “As many days as you want.”

            Ella climbed into the car that waited to take her back to the hotel.

            Concentrate, Ella. She forced herself to look away as the driver edged the car down the street. This was the best thing for both of them. Luke might not realize it right now, but she was doing him a favor. Somewhere out there was a woman who was perfect for Luke Abney. Someone without the baggage that she carried. Someone who’d be free to love Luke in exactly the way he deserved.

by Staci Wilder

Chapter Thirteen

              Luke sat in the right-hand turn lane at the corner of Melrose and Turner. They’d wrapped up filming a half-hour ago and now he was headed home. Kurt, Ernie, and some of the crew were going to grab a burger from Jake’s Chop House, but Luke had begged off. He’d seen the knowing gleam in Kurt’s eyes as he’d climbed into his Expedition in the studio parking lot.

            “Hey, man,” Kurt had propped an elbow on the rolled down window. “You really going home?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Or are you going to find a certain pretty little waitress…er, I mean…girl, uh, woman?”

            Luke could hardly fault his buddy. Ella Paglia was indeed in a class all her own. Pretty, yes. But not beautiful—not by LA’s standards anyway. Funny, absolutely. But not in a ‘I’m-going-to-make-you-laugh-now’ sort of way. It was subtle, and 100% natural. A woman, well…duh! Her delicate feminine curves—he was glad she had curves, too many walking popsicle sticks around here already—left no doubt she was a woman. But the innocence in her dark eyes when she gazed at him like she had the other night…

            Ella Paglia was beauty and wit, infused with childlike wonder, and packaged in a delightful womanly form.

            “I’m headed home,” he answered Kurt’s question now. “I’m not sure where Ella went.”

            Kurt nodded. “Yeah, I heard a couple of the crew mention she seemed upset after her segment.” He shrugged and pulled away from the truck window. “But she’s not the only finalist that had a tough day. She shouldn’t have taken it so hard.”

            Luke had no reply. What could he say? That Ella was just that type of woman—with ridiculously high standards for herself? That this contest was merely a springboard for the bigger dream in her life—a future of security for her small daughter? He couldn’t voice these things to Kurt. The guy already thought he was nuts. How could he explain that, in the course of a few days and several marathon hours of conversation, he’d “gotten” Ella. Understood her. Felt like he’d known her his whole life.

            “All right, buddy.” Kurt waved him off. “If you change your mind about joining us, we’ll be at Jake’s.”

            Now—scarcely five minutes later—Luke made a decision.

            Flipping on the left-hand blinker, he twisted in his seat, signaling the driver in the lane next to him. Can I get over?, he mouthed. Waving his thanks, Luke steered the Expedition into the left lane as the light turned green. Making a U-turn, he headed back the way he’d come. Past Jake’s. Past the studio lots.

            He headed to the Radisson.

            Luke didn’t know where Ella was. He knew that what Kurt had said was true though. Ella had been upset with her performance during the afternoon challenge. What she didn’t know—couldn’t know—was that her slip on the floor was in no way at all the worst of the catastrophes that occurred in the competition today. Dirk completely lost his place with the teleprompter, rambling for a long three minutes about nonsense and never fully recovering. Deidra’s elbow had grazed a carton of eggs, sending an even dozen crashing to the floor during her demo.

            Luke shrugged now. He was used to these things—they’d happened every day to some degree during his stint on It’s My Kitchen. Unfortunately Ella and the other finalists aimed for perfection, feeling that was the requirement for the winner of this competition. Luke knew it didn’t require perfection, just personality to persevere, ability to work hard, and the talent to do the job.

            In his mind—Ella.

            The finalists had been given a two-hour break between the final demo taping and the next elimination ceremony. Asked to return to Sound Stage C at seven o’clock sharp, Luke knew one of the seven would walk back out disappointed.

            He pulled into the parking lot of the Radisson and found an empty space right up front. He didn’t know if Ella had taken a cab back here, but he sensed she probably needed a connection to home, to her heart. She would have come here for some private time to call Chloe. To reconnect with why she was even putting herself through this wringer of a competition.

            His heart ached for her as he jogged to the rotating glass doors of the hotel. Frustrated by the slowly turning glass, he pushed against it, easing out as soon as he could. Once in the lobby, he headed for the front desk. He didn’t know Ella’s room number since they’d just sat in the lobby the other night. He’d wanted to walk her back to her room, but somehow it didn’t feel like the appropriate thing to do yet.

            “Hello?” Luke leaned over the counter, trying to get the attention of the hotel clerk.

            She looked up from her magazine. “May I help you?”

            “Yes,” he rapped his knuckles against the marble counter. “Can you tell me what room number a Ms. Ella Paglia is listed under?”

            The woman popped her gum and shook her head. “Sorry. Can’t give out room numbers.” She made a couple of clicks on the computer keyboard in front of her, then picked up a phone. “I’ll dial her room for you though.”

            Luke waited for what seemed an eternity.

            “Ms. Paglia? I have someone in the lobby who’d like to talk to you.” The woman glanced up at him and mouthed, what’s your name?

            “Luke,” he whispered. “Luke Abney.”

            “Ma’am, a Mr. Luke Abney is down in the lobby. Would you like to speak with him?”

            “Mmhm. Very good, ma’am. Bye now.”

            Luke watched with a sinking heart as the hotel clerk replaced the phone in its cradle. He’d never considered that Ella might not want to see him. That she might refuse the comfort he wanted to offer her. He ran a hand over his eyes, suddenly weary, and turned from the counter.

            “Uh, sir, she said she’d be right down.”

            His heart bounced inside his chest as he spun around. Grinning, he pointed at the hotel clerk. “Thank you! Thank you!”

            The wait couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but Luke thought the elevator doors would never open. Even when they finally did, it wasn’t until three cars later that Ella stepped off.

            He jumped up from where he’d perched on the arm of a chair. “Hey.”

 In one glance, he drank in the sight of her, feeling a smile light his face. Her hair was loose, like he loved, and the crazy curls framed her face, somehow accenting the delicate features of her face. A pastel pink-button down was tucked into a slim denim skirt. Strappy matching sandals covered her feet, giving her maybe two more inches in height.

            “Hi.”

            Her smile was bright and steady and it wasn’t until they were face-to-face that Luke saw the evidence of tears not long dried.

“How are you?” His voice sounded husky, even to his own ears. He cleared his throat. “I…I was…worried about you.”

            Ella shrugged and Luke was overcome again with how petite she was, her shoulders seeming so fragile with the simple movement. “I’m okay. Better now.”

            “Did you call home? Talk to Chloe?”

            The instant grin was genuine and torpedoed Luke’s heart. “Yeah. I did. How’d you know?”

            It was his turn to grin, and he felt a blush begin to creep its way beneath the skin of his neck. If he wasn’t careful, he’d give away too much of himself, too quickly. “I don’t know. I just figured it was something you’d want to do.”

            What he wanted to do was reach out and pull this delightful creature into his arms. Hold her and let her know that he didn’t care what any silly TV competition decided, she was the winner in his book. Instead he took her by the elbow, gently leading her to the nearby chairs.

            “Well, you were right.” She curled up in the chair across from him, tucking her legs beneath her. “Chloe was glad to hear from me.” Ella shook her head, her curls bouncing. “Of course, she doesn’t understand the distance—the time—that we’re apart. And she’s having such a blast with her Aunt Reggie…”

            Luke leaned forward, anchoring his elbows on his knees, and looked into her eyes. “I’m sure she misses her mama.”

            Tears pooled in her eyes and she glanced away. Luke could have kicked himself. The last thing he wanted to do was make her cry again. “Hey, I’m sorry—.”

            Ella laughed and waved away his comment. “Don’t be. I’m just being silly. It’s just—” she threw her arms wide open—“this competition is stressful and being away from Chloe is painful. Sometimes…sometimes it’s just too much, you know?”

            Luke stood and pulled his chair closer to hers. He saw the hotel concierge look his way and knew he probably committed a faux paus, but he really didn’t care. Sinking down again, he did what he’d wanted to since the first day he’d met her. Lifting her hand from where it rested in her lap, Luke laced his fingers through hers. Feeling her smaller hand in his, skin-to-skin, sent a thrill of electricity through him. He instinctively wanted to take care of this woman.

            If Ella was surprised by this, she didn’t let on. Instead he felt her fingers relax against his and he squeezed them. Resisting the urge to bring her hand to his lips, he contented himself with staring into her dark eyes. The tears were all but gone, now only a filmy brightness left in their wake.

            “Is there anything I can do?” He felt helpless, and yet hopeful, all at once.

            She giggled, and the sound filled his ears. “You’re doing it.”

            Luke smiled and covered both their hands with his other. “If I’d known this was all you needed, I’d have been here a lot sooner.”

            Ella gulped and Luke wondered if he’d made her cry again. But she recovered and instead laughed. “I guess you saw my graceful performance today, right?”

            “What are you talking about?” Luke teased. “I saw grace in action. I mean, you must have set some kind of record for jumping to your feet again. And without ever letting go of that blasted lobster, no less!”

            This time Ella’s laugh was from her gut, and Luke felt like he’d won something major, like the Pulitzer or the Nobel Peace prize. Something worthy. Something great.

            Because sitting here in the Radisson lobby, with Ella Paglia’s hand tucked securely inside his own, listening to her laugh—this trumped all else Luke could imagine.

*****

            Ella couldn’t believe she was sitting here, holding hands with Luke Abney. Her Mr. Blond. Yet talking and laughing with Luke felt as natural to her right now as cuddling with Chloe or chatting with Reggie.

            “Let me see your foot.” Luke held out a hand.

            “What?” Ella stared at him, not sure if she felt anticipation or pure horror. “Why?”

            “Come on.” Luke grinned at her. “Trust me.” He bent down and reached for her foot. Slipping her sandal off he eased her foot onto his lap. “Okay, just relax now. Shut your eyes.”

            Ella didn’t want to close her eyes. She wanted to look around and make sure no one was witnessing this embarrassing moment.

            “If I’d have know you were going to do this, I would have—”

            Her words trailed off as Luke’s fingers pressed into the sole of her foot. The pressure was exquisite and her eyes closed involuntarily.

            “That’s it.” His voice was low and husky. “Relax and let me do the work.”

            Ella felt the urge to giggle, but her body was doing just as he asked without waiting for her permission. After a few minutes, she opened one eye and peered at him. He was watching her face, his fingers still moving with slow, measured movements across her skin.

            “Where’d you learn to do that?” Ella didn’t know if she wanted to know the answer. She for sure didn’t want to know how many other woman may have experienced this.

            Luke’s grin was lopsided, and partly sheepish. “I grew up watching my dad do this for my mom on days when us kids proved to be a handful.” He shrugged and his voice dropped another octave. “It always seemed to work.”

            Ella did giggle now. “What are you saying? That she was putty in his hands after this?”

            “Are you saying that you’re putty in my hands?”

            Ella arched an eyebrow, but didn’t answer.  

            “Will you go out to dinner with me tonight?”

            “What?” Ella laughed and eased her foot from his grasp. She slipped back into her shoe. “Wouldn’t that be against some rule? Me, a finalist and you, a network employee?”

            “Nope.” Luke’s voice oozed pride. “I checked. I technically work for Dreamcaster Productions, not The Cooking Channel, so there’s no conflict of interest. I mean, I probably couldn’t marry you—until after the competition…”

            Ella stared at him, her mouth open wide, speechless. His lopsided grin told her he was teasing. This felt good, being here with Luke. As though she were supposed to be here. That this place in time had been held for her and, now that she was here, all the pieces of her heart and soul seemed to come together in perfect unison.

            Or almost perfect.

            “Ella?” Luke’s voice turned serious. “Do you mind if I pray for you?”

            Her mind went into instant freeze mode. Luke wanted to pray for her? This mixture of emotion and attraction she’d been feeling toward Luke Abney had left no time or room for her to consider things. Things like value systems and belief structures. Or church attendance or a belief in a higher power.

            And now—out of the clear blue—was a non-too-subtle hint at where Luke Abney stood in the faith department. Ella wasn’t sure how she felt. She’d managed to keep her mind safely off such subjects for so long now…

            “Uh…of course.” She nodded, knowing her hesitancy showed. What could it hurt, right? “Sure, you can pray for me.”

            “Really?” Luke looked hopeful. “I just want you to go into this elimination thing tonight with peace.” He tapped his own chest. “You know, a really deep peace. So that no matter what happens, you know without a doubt you—and Chloe—are going to be all right.”

            The lump lodged in Ella’s throat made it difficult for her to speak. It had been so long since someone had spoken words like these to her. Something inside her screamed for her to believe this man, to bow her head with him and give herself fully to this peace he spoke of.

            But she couldn’t. She’d let him pray for her. Ella knew her heart would allow no more than that. There was a time—not too long ago—when this would have been the most natural thing in the world, to bow her head and pray in faith. But that was before…

            Ella knew better now. Sometimes prayer didn’t accomplish a thing.

by Staci Wilder

Chapter Twelve

            “So you’ve spent some time working on your TV skills.” Nathan Charleton, in his uniform of black slacks and gray sweater, addressed the finalists. “But remember, the cooking still has to look effortless. That’s where the The Cooking Channel’s kitchen and culinary staff—or K&C for short—come in.” He paused and grinned. “Did you think Marcus Jordan or Dario Patali did everything on their own?”

            Ella glanced at Torrie, sitting next to her, and raised her eyebrows. Was she the only one who’d not known the hosts had people behind the scenes? But the blank look in Torrie’s eyes was enough to let Ella know she wasn’t alone.

            “To help you understand more about what goes into preparing one of our shows, the grill master himself is back with us today.” Nathan Charleton gestured toward the back door of the studio. “Marcus Jordan, folks!”

            Ella felt the same surge of excitement she’d felt earlier in the week. After years of watching the chef in action on TV, it was almost surreal to see him bound past her in the flesh. The tall and slim, curly-headed chef looked even more boyish in person than he did on screen. The energy was the same though. Ella knew that whatever today held, the bar would be raised.

            She leaned forward, pen in hand, willing herself to concentrate on Marcus Jordan and what he had to share with them today. Meeting this chef and sitting in on his lectures had been little more than a daydream just weeks ago and Ella knew this was a once in a lifetime experience. But as thrilled as she was to be sitting here in front of Marcus Jordan, one thing still thrilled her more.

            Knowing Luke Abney was somewhere near.

            She smiled, remembering last night. Her eyes felt a bit gritty this morning from lack of sleep. At breakfast she’d had to down a third cup of coffee for an extra jolt of caffeine. Even so, nothing could dim the way she felt this morning. There was a lightness to her, a sense of excitement and adventure, that she hadn’t felt in such a long time.

            And it was because of Luke.

            They had sat in the lobby of the Radisson talking until two a.m. They talked about everything and nothing, all at the same time. After their marathon phone conversation a few months ago, Ella thought she’d known the basic Luke Abney trivia. He was from Indiana and loved apple pie, baseball games, and the LA Lakers. His favorite color was blue and he’d dreamed of being a veterinarian when he was a little boy. He lived in a small apartment in Brentwood, but his favorite spot was his parents’ farmhouse in Bloomington. The long, wraparound porch with the wooden swing, to be exact.

            Last night, they’d filled in the many layers put into place during that phone conversation. Time seemed to fly by. In a matter of hours, Ella felt like she’d known Luke Abney all her life. Somehow it didn’t surprise her. There had been something almost electric between them since their first meeting. Still, the intimacy of the details he’d shared with her—as simple and inconsequential as they might seem to others—was everything to her. Luke Abney had shared himself. Ella had experienced that once before—with Stephen—and she knew that anything less than that was unacceptable.

            Maybe that’s why in the middle of her happiness this morning there also rested an unease. Stephen. He seemed to be all around her today. In the sound of Chloe’s voice on the phone this morning. The scent of his cologne still clung to the suitcase in her hotel room. This caused uncertainty in her emotions, almost like a warning of some kind.

             Ella wanted to ignore it, had, in fact, done a fairly good job of it so far. But even as she pushed all thoughts of Luke and Stephen and even Chloe from her mind as she focused her eyes on Marcus Jordan, Ella knew that something was different.

            It would be different from now on—

            Ella jumped as Marcus Jordan’s voice boomed right in front of her.

            “I’d like to introduce you at this time to what I like to call “my secret weapon”—Miriam Goldsmith, come join me please!”

            Ella twisted in her seat to get a look at the tiny woman making her way to the front. Even shorter than Ella, she was fifty-ish with short gray hair and a huge smile. Marcus placed an arm around Miriam’s shoulders and pulled her close.

            “Miriam is my sous chef. Translated that means she is my right-hand. I really could not do my show without Miriam and the rest of the K&C staff. They are the ones who enable us to do our jobs.” Marcus handed the microphone to Miriam. “I’m going to turn the podium over to you, Miriam.”

            Ella joined the other finalists in a standing ovation. Miriam grinned, waving them back in their seats.

            “Thank you,” the older woman’s voice was soft and kind as she held up two fingers. “The K&C staff is divided into two departments. First we have the cooks and food stylists who actually develop and style the recipes for television. They are the ones who make the food look gorgeous.”

            Henry, on Ella’s right, reached over and nudged her. “Hey, El, can I borrow a sheet of paper?”

            Ella glanced at his desk—completely bare—while she flipped to the back of her notebook and removed a couple of clean sheets. She grinned at him and shook her head. Typical Henry. Funny to a fault, and almost never fully prepared. Ella wondered how far he’d make it in the competition with his lack of organization.

            “Second,” Miriam continued, “is the writers and the editors. The editorial staff works together with the chefs to create recipes for the shows. Then they take those recipes and write ‘break-downs.’”

            Ella scribbled the word and then waited for the definition.

            “A break-down is an action script for a show. Each episode is literally broken down action by action. This way the chef or the host knows what to and when to do it.”

            Ella squirmed. She wasn’t sure how she felt about all these new revelations. Maybe she’d been naive to think that the likes of Marcus Jordan or Kendall Brooks simply walked into a kitchen and proceeded to whip up one amazing meal right after the other—in front of a camera. If so, maybe she should feel relief right now at learning that even the network greats had lots of help.

            But all Ella felt was worry.

            Up to this point she’d known about the teleprompter, the cue cards, the time cards, and the importance of switching from one camera to the next seamlessly. Now Miriam was telling them that each segment is broken down into separate actions, telling her where to be and when to be there.

            Ella shuddered and chanced a peek in Torrie’s direction. The girl had her hands over her ears and her eyes squeezed closed. If Ella hadn’t felt so overwhelmed herself by this fresh onslaught of information, she would have laughed out loud. She knew how Torrie felt. Her earlier premonition had been right.

            The bar had been raised.

            From this point on, the seven remaining finalists would have to give it their all. Less than that, and the loss of concentration and initiative would be just enough to send them packing.

            Ella straightened her back and made up her mind. She’d learn how to do the . break-downs. Face the teleprompter with courage. Show the camera no mercy. Whatever it took, she’d master it.

            She’d come way too far and had way too much at stake to risk going home now.

*****

           Nathan Charleton was issuing the day’s challenge to the seven finalists.

          Luke could hear it all from where he sat in the control booth. Munching on a PB&J sandwich, he leaned back in his chair and propped his tennis shoe-clad feet on a corner of Kurt’s desk.

            “Today each of you will be given a break-down from an episode of Marcus Jordan’s nationally acclaimed cooking show Just Grill Me. You’ll have thirty minutes to read the break-downs and you’ll each have a ten-minute consult with Miriam right before you’re set to begin filming. Miriam will walk you through the break-down. Then tonight—”

            The host paused and Luke quit chewing, straining to hear what he already knew would come next.

            “Tonight another one of you will be eliminated from the contest.”

            Luke swallowed hard. It felt like the peanut butter had coated his throat, suddenly dry. He folded the last two bites of sandwich in a paper towel and stuck it back in the Ziploc baggie. Tossing the whole thing into the trash can beneath Kurt’s desk, he took a deep breath then blew it out in one loud huff.

            “What’s wrong with you?” Kurt punched a button, filtering out all sounds from the sound stage below them, and pulled off his headset.

            “Nothing.” Luke shrugged, then grinned. “Everything?”

            Kurt swiveled in his chair and picked up a can of soda. “Hmmm. It’s the waitress again, isn’t it?”

            “Don’t call her that, man.” Last night, Luke had learned the story of why Ella had gone to work at the diner in the first place. How the big, burly Max had looked out for her. How hard she and her baby girl had it in the months after her husband’s death.

          Now this protectiveness he felt toward her seemed like a big billy club he carried in his hand. Just daring someone to mess with Ella.

          “I mean…she’s more than that, you know?”

            Kurt took a long swig of the cola, then sighed. “Sure she is, man. Hey, Luke, you know I didn’t mean anything by that comment. Really.”

            Luke only nodded.

            “Wow.” Kurt whistled softly. “You’ve got it bad, dude.”

            Luke nodded again. “I know.”

            Kurt seemed at a loss for words. Luke couldn’t blame him. No doubt he was throwing his buddy a curve ball. Nobody—least of all, Luke himself—ever expected Luke Abney to fall this hard or this quick for a woman.

            “Here’s the thing,” Luke faced Kurt and planted his elbows on his knees. Kurt wasn’t exactly the one to go to for female advice, but he was the best Luke had at the moment. “I…I like her. I mean…we’ve only talked a little. But I know I like her. A lot. I know that I like her a lot.” He kept nodding his head. “I know this.”

            Kurt laughed, and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Oh, man! It’s much worse than I thought. Luke Abney, have you gone and fallen in love behind my back?”

            Love? Luke straightened. He hadn’t given that word a second thought since Tessa. The truth was, he was no longer certain what love was. Maybe he’d never known. He thought he had a great love with Tessa and look how that turned out.

            He shook his head now. He didn’t want to think about Tessa right now. “I don’t know about that…about love, that is. But,” he spread his hands, “I want a chance to know Ella better. But what if she leaves before we have that opportunity?”

            Kurt just stared at him. “You’re not serious, are you?”

            “What do you mean?”

            Kurt’s chair popped as he leaned forward and rapped Luke on the head. “This is the twenty-first century, dude. You know, cell phones and email and airplanes and—”

            “Okay!” Luke held up his hands in surrender. “I get your point. I get it.”

            “So,” Kurt spoke very slowly, as though to a first grader. “If the pretty girl goes back to Louisiana you will call her.” Kurt picked up the cell phone laying on his cluttered desk and waved it in the air. Then he turned to the computer and tapped on the keyboard. “And you’ll email her. See how easy that is?”

            Luke grimaced at Kurt’s good-natured mocking, but as much as he hated to admit it, he felt better. Somehow blockhead Kurt had made this whole Ella Paglia deal seem like it could work.

            “Okay then,” Kurt picked up his headset and jerked a thumb toward the control room door, “Better get downstairs, lover boy. You have a challenge to tape.”

*****

            Ella paced the perimeter of the green room, the dreaded blue card clutched in her hand. Muttering to herself, she rehearsed the break-down: when she’d brush the lobster with oil, which counter she’d be using for her food chops, and how long to grill the quesadillas on each side.

            Each of the seven finalists had been given one of Marcus Jordan’s famous recipes. She’d drawn the Lobster-Toasted Garlic Quesadillas. In less than fifteen minutes a stage hand would show up at the door, beckoning her to the studio floor.

            “That’s not very encouraging, is it?” Dirk’s question broke the silence of the room. He pointed to the couch.

            Across the room, Patty lay face down on the sofa. The poor woman had drawn first again. Ella had been sitting in the overstuffed chair when Patty came back from her demo. She’d entered as quietly as before, but had walked straight to the sofa and lay prone. An hour and a half later, Ella didn’t think the woman had moved a muscle.

            “Should we…shake her?” Ben’s words were whispered. “Nudge her or something? You know, make sure she’s breathing?”

            Dirk grinned. “Sure. Go ahead and do that, Ben.”

            Ben lifted the brown Stetson from his head and ran a hand through his tousled blond hair. “I think she’s probably all right.”  He glanced up at Ella. “Don’t you?”

            Ella giggled in spite of her own nerves. She nodded. “I think she’s fine. She’s just recovering right now.”

            Ben’s sigh filled the green room. “Personally, I think she’s got the right idea. I may pass out myself after I finish cooking up some Marcus Jordan braised pork ribs.”

            Ten minutes later, Ella stood behind the counter in the studio kitchen, thinking that she, too, might join Patty on the sofa. If she ever lived through this demo, that is. She licked her lips and smoothed the white apron over her hips.

            “Okay, Ella,” Marnie called, “On five…four…three…two…one!”

            Ella opened her mouth to speak, but then remembered she’d forgotten to smile into the camera. She clamped her mouth closed again, then gave her best Colgate grin into what she hoped was the right camera.

            And hopefully not Luke’s camera.

            “Today I’m making Lobster-Toasted Garlic Quesadillas.” She turned the smile up another notch. The judges had wanted to see more of her, right? What did that mean, exactly? More personality, Ella supposed. “First I’ll take this lobster—isn’t he a beauty, folks?” She held the lobster up just in time to see Marnie motion toward the other camera.

            Remembering her Colgate smile just in time, Ella spun around with the lobster, her eyes wildly searching for the second camera. As she did, Ella felt her shoe begin to slip on something wet. Confident that she could regain her footing, she tried to find her place on the teleprompter.

           “We’ll need to lay this lobster down on a flat surface and rub him with some oil and seasonings—!”

            Ella lost her battle with the wet spot on the floor. It happened so fast it seemed almost impossible to believe. Yet here she was. On the floor. Still clutching the lobster. And the cameras were rolling.

            That split-second thought was enough to propel Ella into action. On her feet again, she carefully stepped over the water puddle on the floor and dropped the lobster onto the counter with a loud plop! Her eyes found the camera, but not the teleprompter. “And that, folks, is for the experts. Please don’t try that at home!”

            Ella’s heart sank to her knees, though she kept the Colgate grin in place. She’d probably just blown her chance in this competition. Only one thing brought her any consolation. She hadn’t broken the cardinal network rule.

           Don’t ever stop the show!

by Staci Wilder

Chapter Eleven

             Luke sat on the worn leather sofa in his apartment and stared at the clock on the wall. Eight-fifteen. He sighed and leaned forward, rubbing his hands on the thighs of his jeans. The contestants should know by now which of them had made it to the next round.

            Ella should know by now.

            The thought of Ella leaving LA before he really even had a chance to get to know her did something funny to Luke’s stomach. It was crazy, really. This wasn’t his style, mooning over some lady he barely knew. Heck, he didn’t even moon over the ones he did know. This was new territory for him, a space he hadn’t explored since…

            Well, since Tessa.

            The thought of Tessa Shepherd made the hairs on his arm stand on end. He’d once loved her fiercely. Was prepared to give her the moon, had she asked for it. He had, in fact, given her something far more precious. His heart. And she had stomped on it so hard that Luke wouldn’t have experienced more pain if she’d walked on his bare chest in a pair of her four-inch stilettos.

            Of course, he hadn’t been without blame. Leaving his mid-west values behind in Indiana, he’d reached out and grabbed all he could hold when he first arrived in Los Angeles six years ago. Late nights, wild parties, and pretty women—all were available for the taking.

            But then he’d met Tessa and had felt like he had at last come home. At last he’d felt free to shed the glitz of Tinsel Town and bare his heart and soul to someone who shared his passions and his morals. Only Tessa hadn’t been that person. One mention of his hometown values and she’d started deleting herself from his life, one pair of shoes at a time.

            But this wasn’t fair, his drumming up past hurt at the hand of Tessa. It wasn’t fair to Ella, and it wasn’t fair to him. The two women couldn’t be more different from one another. Tessa had been self-centered, more focused on her own career and needs than anything else.

            Ella had a child that came first. A little girl. He knew this from the initial bios that Kurt had shared during their cross-country trek. He knew this competition meant far more to her than she let on. Maybe that’s why he felt such an unexplainable tenderness toward her, almost a protectiveness. Her motives were noble, at least he thought they were.

            Of course, this wouldn’t be the first time he’d been wrong about a woman.

            Luke paced the length of the small living room. Then he sat some more. Then he did a few jumping jacks. By the time he’d stretched on the floor to do a set of sit-ups, he realized that only one thing would really soothe his uncertain emotions. He sat up and reached for the Bible on the coffee table. Scooting around, he leaned his back against the sofa and flipped through the soft, worn pages until he found it. Psalm 1.

            Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful. But his delight is in the law of the Lord; and in his law doth he meditate day and night.

            Luke read the verses again, then dropped his head forward, resting his forehead on his knees. How many times had this set of scriptures spoke comfort to his questioning mind and bruised spirit? Too many to count, he knew that.

            He’d learned an important lesson the hardest way possible—through experience. His mother had always been fond of saying that pain was her best teacher. She’d been right. After his breakup with Tessa, his enraptured view of Hollywood and all it had to offer began to dim. It was as though he’d had blinders covering his eyes and at last they were stripped away and he could see again.

            Where once he’d seen only the glitz and glamour of a city known for indulgence, he now knew it for what it really was. Just another city. Large, wealthy, and full of super stars. Yeah, maybe so. But what Luke now knew was that even superstars with mega-hit movies were just regular folk. At the end of the day, they brushed their teeth and went to bed, much the same as he did.

            Only Luke could now lay his head on his pillow with a peace in his heart.

            He’d never risk that peace again. Not for a job. Not for LA.

            Not for a woman.

            That’s why he had to make a move, one way or another. If Ella was as real as he felt she was, then he didn’t want to let an opportunity to know her better pass him by. But he’d need strength if she turned out to be in search of only what the Hollywood scene could provide for her.

            The strength to simply walk away.

            “Lord,” Luke mumbled the prayer out loud. “You know I want your will. Guide my footsteps. Direct my words. Let me follow wherever you lead me. Even if it’s not what my heart wants to hear.”

            By the time the clock on the wall read eight-forty-five, Luke had showered, changed into a fresh pair of pants and shirt, and was locking his front door. He knew Kurt would call him crazy and most of his other friends would think he’d flipped out. But he had to know if Ella was staying in LA.

            He had to know tonight.

 *****

             Ella went with the others to the corner ice-cream shop. Over milkshakes and banana splits, they celebrated surviving the first round of eliminations. Ella felt her place in the group was shaky, at best. She’d have to find a way to give the judges what they were asking for. But as she sat and nibbled on her waffle cone, she had no idea how to do that.

            Everyone else felt good, she could tell. Torrie talked nonstop, barely giving anyone else time to get a word in edgewise before jumping to a new topic altogether. Even Patty had agreed to join them and, while she wasn’t really participating in the conversation much, she did nod in agreement and give a furtive smile from time to time. Ella was more convinced than ever that Patty just needed a friend. She purposed to try harder to be that person for Patty.

            “Hey, Cowboy,” Henry tossed a wadded straw wrapper Ben’s way. “There are two men in jeans and Stetsons in the kitchen. Which one is the real cowboy?”

            “Oh, no, here we go again.” Deidra threw up her hands.

            Ella grinned as Ben turned a pretty shade of pink.

            “Dunno.” He shrugged. “Which one?”

            “The one on the range.” Henry howled, slapping his palms on the table. “Get it? Range? Like, home on the range?”

            “WE GET IT, DUDE.”

            Ella cringed at Deidra’s hateful tone. Henry’s jokes did tend to wear a little thin, particularly after fifteen of them and a very long day in the studio. But you certainly couldn’t fault the guy for trying to keep things light and humorous. Ella appreciated that, even if she could have done without the corny one-liners.

            “On that note, I think I’ll head back to the hotel.” Dirk pulled his ball cap on and stood up. “Anyone want to walk with me?”

            Ella held up her hand. “Me. I need to get back to the room and call home anyway.”

            “Hey, it’s still early yet.” Torrie’s pretty mouth turned down in a mock pout. “You two are party poopers.”

            “That’s us.” Dirk grinned and tapped Torrie’s shoulder. “But this is one party pooper who will have had his eight hours of beauty sleep and be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for tomorrow’s challenge.”

            No one had an argument—pretend or otherwise—so Dirk and Ella waved their good-byes and walked the two blocks to the Radisson. Ella bid Dirk a good-night as he turned the corner in the lobby, headed for his first floor room. Ella started for the elevator when she heard her name.

            She spun around, shocked to see Luke Abney standing in the lobby. Ella started toward him, then glanced around. “What—what are you doing here?”

            He moved closer, and in that one motion she noticed several details. Details that made her heart rate pick up and the now familiar flush to creep up her neck. Things like the neat line in his khakis. The way his button-down shirt hung untucked. The fact that he wore flip-flops and she could see his feet. Silly details that she’d never admit to another human being. But details that caused her heart to flutter in a way she’d never expected to feel again.

            “I came to see you.” He stood in front of her now—no more than a foot away—looking down at her with such frank honesty in his blue eyes that it almost took her breath away. “I wanted to make sure that you…that you weren’t…”

            Ella nodded. “I get it. You wanted to make sure I wasn’t the one eliminated, right?”

            His grin was sheepish, but she loved it. Loved that he wanted to check on her. Loved that he was standing here, close enough for her to reach out and touch.

            “Yeah, something like that.” He stared down at her and his grin widened.

            “What?” Ella felt self-conscious beneath his gaze. She reached up to wipe at her mouth. “Do I have something on my face?”

            Luke shook his head and stepped even closer. With one hand, he reached out and fingered a curl that hung over her shoulder. “You’ve got your hair down,” he whispered huskily.

            Ella’s heart skipped a little beat. She couldn’t have taken her eyes off of Luke Abney right then if a gun had been held to her head. Nor did she want to.

            “I like it like this.” He let go of the curl and it jumped back into place. “You know, curly, free. It’s you.”

            Ella finally found both her breath and her voice and she laughed out loud. “Easy for you to say, mister! I’d like to see you try to tame these curls at six o’clock every morning. It’s not easy, let me tell you.”

            Luke laughed and shook his head. “I’m sure it’s not.” He glanced around the lobby, still littered with groups of people. “Hey, do you want to sit for a while? Just talk?”

            Ella hesitated, thinking of the phone call home she needed to make and of the early morning wakeup call she’d requested. Then she looked into Luke’s blue eyes again and knew there was only one answer to his question.

by Staci Wilder

Chapter Ten

            Ella’s exhilaration barely lasted through lunch.

            As she and the other contestants filed back into Sound Stage C after a rather loud and festive lunch at a nearby bistro, it was clear something was up. The two rows of metal desks had disappeared from view and three more sets of cameras and tripods peppered the studio floor. The kitchen lights remained ablaze, but the round, overhead lights above the studio were dimmed.

          The result was an instant charge of energy.

          Or dread, Ella wasn’t really sure.

            “Welcome back, contestants.” Nathan Charleton motioned for them to cluster to one side of the room. “I trust you had a pleasant lunch. You’ll be glad you’ve had plenty of nourishment because—” he paused and pointed at the group—“this afternoon’s challenge will lead to what you’ve all been waiting for. The first elimination ceremony.”

            A chorus of groans echoed what Ella felt.

          This was it. The contest was on, no doubt about that now. Up till this point they’d felt and operated as a single team. But now the gloves—or Chef’s mitts—would come off and may the best chef among them win. Anticipation wiggled around in Ella’s stomach and she tried to embrace it rather than fight it. This was why she’d come three thousand miles in the first place, wasn’t it? To win the contest that would guarantee a safe future for Chloe.

            The truth could not be avoided. As much as they liked one another and as well as they got along, the contest would boast only one winner. In the end, it would come down to which one of the eight held up under the pressure, delivered culinary delights, and provided an entertaining performance.

            Ella held her breath as the host continued.

          “This is your challenge. You will each prepare the dish that won you a place in the finals. You’ll have two hours to prepare both the dish and a demo tray. After presenting your demo to the judges panel, you’ll be individually rated then you’ll prepare for the elimination ceremony. Tonight—” Nathan Charleton’ voice dropped an octave—“one of you will go home.”

             The three judges were introduced and again the three points of judging were covered: performance, personality, and culinary point of view. Ella still wasn’t sure what the latter meant. This afternoon’s challenge left no time for her to mull it over though. She had twenty minutes to prepare her cue cards and do a dry run-through before the contestants began filming.

            The earlier butterflies in the pit of her stomach now seemed to be having a block party inside her. Swallowing an acrid taste in the back of her throat, Ella found a quiet corner and rehearsed the steps of her demo. Her winning entry had featured her grandmother’s Vegetable Panini, a dish she could—just like Reggie had said—make in her sleep. She concentrated now on the prep work ahead of her: the vegetable chops, heating the griddle, slicing the baguettes.

            This first crucial challenge differed from the previous ones in another way. Before, each finalist was allowed to sit in during each demo and challenge. Beginning today, they’d be sequestered in the green room both before and after their own demo. It added another layer of mystery to the goings-on, making it virtually impossible to know how well one stacked up in light of the remaining contestants’ performances.

            Ella had drawn second demo and now she sat huddled in an overstuffed purple armchair, waiting for a stagehand to come fetch her when it was her turn. Deidra, Ben, and Kim occupied the matching couch. Torrie sat cross-legged against the wall, twirling her braids in her hands. Dirk and Henry lay flat of their backs on the green Berber carpet. All were quiet, just waiting.

            “Hey, check it out,” Dirk, from his spot on the floor, pointed to the walls. “The green room is really green. I’ve always wondered that.”

            It was an observation, but if Dirk was expecting a response Ella was certain he’d be disappointed. Their minds were too occupied at the moment to absorb anything of substance—even something as minute as the color of the green room.

            “How do you think Patty is doing out there?” Deidra was the first to voice it.

            Ella straightened in her chair. She’d been thinking about Patty too. The woman was an enigma to the rest of the group. She fascinated Ella every bit as much as she startled her. With her short, dark pixie cut and waif-like features, she appeared as harmless as a feather on a china dish.

             From a distance, that is. Face-to-face with those small beady eyes and firmly set lips was enough to make Ella back up a step or two.

            “She’s doing fine,” Ben piped up from his corner of the couch. “Haven’t you watched her in the kitchen? She’s a whiz with her chops. If you ask me, that spooky persona is all an act.”

            Ella stared at Ben. Was it possible that someone could have their head in the game deep enough to effect a persona, for crying out loud? It was all she could do to function well as…herself…let alone trying to feign a false front just to throw the others off balance.

            “I don’t know…” Torrie didn’t sound convinced.

            “Wait a minute.” Deidra held up a finger. “I think Ben may be on to something. She was the only one that didn’t go to lunch with us today, right? Something about having an appointment or something like that? Well, when we were leaving the restaurant, I saw her at a table off to the side. By herself.” Deidra’s voice was emphatic, and she jerked her neck as though to accentuate each word. “What happened to that appointment, I ask you? She didn’t have one, that’s what!”

            Ella giggled. “Deidra, that’s a stretch. Give the woman a break. I mean, she freaks me out to, but I don’t think she’s sinister or anything.”

            “Hmph, maybe not,” Deidra crossed her arms. “But that woman’s got some real bad mojo going on up in that head of hers. You know what I’m talking about now!”

            The doorknob to the green room clicked and all seven of them turned to the door. Patty walked in and took a seat in a metal folding chair nearest the door. She nodded curtly, acknowledging their presence, but then hid her head behind a dog-eared copy of California Living.

            Ella watched as Dirk sat up and stared, first at Patty, then at each of them. He raised his eyebrows in question, but she only shrugged her shoulders. They’d all love to ask Patty how the demo went, but no one really knew how to approach her. Ella didn’t know what the deal with Patty was, but she did know she envied the woman right now.

            The door opened and a stagehand poked his head inside. “Ella Paglia?”

            Ella sighed and stood up.

            Patty had another challenge behind her—at this moment, a position Ella envied.

*****

            Luke’s chest tightened as he watched Ella walk to the center of the kitchen and take her place behind the counter. Almost like he was nervous for her. Or maybe he was just nervous right along with her, that was more like it. It wasn’t that he feared she’d flub up or make some awful error. All the contestants made mistakes; the competition didn’t require perfection. But it did require releasing your personality in front of a camera and being at ease with your movements and actions.

            Ella had the latter down pat, Luke was convinced of that. She moved about the kitchen with a grace that captivated him, handling the pots and pans and ladles and mixers with the greatest of ease. It was the former part—the personality issue—that troubled him.

            In Milltown, at Max’s Diner, Ella’s personality had been larger than life. Funny in a very unintentional way, her comedic expressions and quick wit had added wonderful layers to her naturally quiet persona. Here, in the studio kitchen, she was reserved, holding something back from the camera.

            Luke feared she held back the very thing that could win this contest for her.

            He and the other crew members had the distinct advantage of seeing all eight contestants in action. It tickled Luke the way folks reacted with a camera trained on them. Some of them—like that woman, Patty—become an animated version of Superwoman.

          Luke nearly fell off his stool the first time Patty had opened her mouth during filming. The mousy, timid housewife vanished and in her place stood a ball of pure energy, tossing knives and pepper mills around like she was Tom Cruise in Tequila Sunrise. It beat all Luke had ever seen.

            Then you had folks like Ben. And Ella. People with unmistakable skills and resources. But they tended to hide from the camera instead of reaching out and embracing it. For something to be appealing on a TV screen—whether it was the food or the chef—it had to be over the top.

            Okay, Ella, show me what you’ve got. He eased behind his camera and waited for Marnie’s countdown. Ernie, another camera guy, would be taking the opening sequence of shots, so Luke used this time to zoom in tight on Ella’s face. Show me that beautiful smile, Ella.

            “Three…two…one!”

            On cue, Ella smiled into the camera and made her opening speech. Luke didn’t move a muscle as he watched, following her every move. Introducing her recipe—Luke wasn’t even certain what a panini was—he locked back into position as she turned on the grill then moved to the far counter to begin her chops.

            Focusing the camera on Ella’s hands, he watched as she lined up eggplant, zucchini, and onions, then began to slice them with the ease of a pro. Her fingers—short and slim—were topped by neatly manicured nails, covered in clear gloss. Luke knew her hands would look awesome on-screen. He couldn’t say the same for everyone else he shot. Take Patty, for instance. The woman was a whirling dervish in the kitchen, but her hands looked like they needed a good long soak in a bowl of Madge’s Pamolive.

            Ella finished the vegetables and reached for a basket of sliced baguettes. Working with one piece at a time, she spread a thin layer of pesto sauce, then layered slices of eggplant, zucchini, onion, tomato, mozzarella, and roasted red peppers. Sprinkling it all with salt and pepper, she then slid the sandwiches onto the griddle and placed a heavy iron skillet on top of them.

            “You can use a panini maker if you want,” She spoke clearly and without hesitation. “But I like to make these sandwiches the way my grandmother taught me.”

            Ella paused and grinned at the camera, pointing to the heavy skillet. “So I just use any old cast iron pan I have around. They’re just weighty enough and press the baguette in much the same way as an expensive panini maker.”

            Good job, Ella! Luke wanted to shout out loud. She’d made it personal. Shared a little of herself with the camera. Now if she could just relax into it…

*****

            Ella trailed down the hallway behind Dirk and Henry. Torrie walked on one side of her and Deidra on the other. Just behind them came Patty, Ben, and Kim. The motley group somehow reminded Ella of a bunch of kids, walking the long barren school hallway to the principal’s office.

           They entered Sound Stage C as a group of eight. But only seven of them would return in the morning.

            Ella’s lunch—was it only seven hours ago that they’d all been laughing and cutting up at Tony’s Bistro?—felt like it was lodged somewhere between the base of her throat and the middle of her ribcage.

             Never could she remember being quite this nervous. Even walking the long church aisle to meet Stephen at their wedding and her planned C-section with Chloe seemed like a cakewalk in stark contrast to the panel of judges she was about to face.

            Ella didn’t know what kind of stakes the other seven had in this competition, but for her, they were high. Winning this meant an opportunity to carve out a future that would utilize her talents and passions and also provide a generous and stable income for Chloe. It was a long shot; she’d known that going in.

           But now that she was here, Ella intended to give it everything she had to make it all the way.

            They entered the dim studio. The three judges sat behind a long table, a single row of track lighting illuminating the space. Just behind them, cloaked in semi-darkness, stood McAllister Pruitt, himself. The lunch-turned-stone in the pit of her tummy rolled over as Ella glimpsed the man who held the key to her future.

          The eight contestants walked to the center of the room and took their places. When they were settled, Nathan Charleton stepped forward.

            “Tonight we’ve reached the very first elimination ceremony. You’ve been introduced to the judges, but now let me tell you a little about each of them. You’ll be seeing them a lot over the course of this competition. First up, Tom Fogelman, Senior Vice President of Programming and Production here at The Cooking Channel.”

          Nathan Charleton took a couple of steps and smiled. “The pretty lady next to Tom is Heidi Turner. Heidi’s role with the network is that of VP of Marketing. And last, but certainly not least, we have Jordan Elliott, well-known TV broadcaster.”

            Ella surveyed the three judges, but could get no real feel on just how tough or how lenient the trio might be. Each of them smiled and waved at the contestants as they were introduced, but it was clear by the expressions on their faces now that they were all business.

            “Now for the icing on the cake, ladies and gentlemen. I’d like to present Mr. McAllister Pruitt.” Even Nathan Charleton’s voice contained a timbre of awe.

            Ella’s fists clenched in anticipation at her side as the tall, daunting man stepped from the shadows, and came to stand before them.

            “Good evening,” He nodded and looked each of them squarely in the eyes before continuing. “It’s my great pleasure to welcome you all to Los Angeles, but more specifically, to this competition. At one time, not so many years ago, I was in the same position you are right now. I had a dream, and that dream was to operate my own restaurant.”

            Ella found herself relaxing as McAllister Pruitt began to share his background. She leaned forward in interest, finding it amazing that a man of his stature would be this candid.

            “I came from a family that could barely afford to place the basics on the table, let alone purchase the extras we all enjoy today. I began to experiment with bits of this and pieces of that—all leftovers from the meal before. I cultivated a love for experimenting with food.” He smiled. “I still love to experiment.”

            Ella could relate. Some of her best concoctions had been mistakes gone right.

            “I finally lassoed my dream after ten grueling years. Now I want to help one of you lasso your personal dream. One of you will walk away from this competition with your own restaurant.

            Not a sound was heard as McAllister finished speaking and retreated to the corner. Ella hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath, hanging on to every single syllable out of the man’s mouth. She blew it out in a long, soft sigh.

           “Contestants, we want to thank each of you for your participation in Restaurant 101.  Obviously, the network saw something exciting in each of you or you wouldn’t even be here. But as contests go, there can only be one winner and tonight we’ll take the group down to seven.” Nathan Charleton gave one last look at the finalists, then turned to the panel. “Judges, I’ll turn it over to you now.”

            The one named Tom stood and picked up a sheet of paper from the table in front of him. He ventured a small smile as he began to speak. “I want to second the comments our host, Nathan Charleton, made. All eight of you show amazing potential and we’d love to be able to keep all of you. But tonight we are asking the following people…to stay.”

            Ella felt her stomach drop the remaining distance to her knees and she forgot how to breathe. Without thinking, she reached out to clutch both her neighbor’s hands. In some remote corner of her mind she realized she’d grabbed hold of Patty’s hand, felt a half-second’s resistance, and then the warmth of Patty’s skin as the woman returned her anxious squeeze.

            “When I call your name, please step forward. Dirk…Deidra…Henry…”

            Ella stood frozen as Henry released her hand and stepped forward to join Dirk and Deidra. She felt Patty move in a little closer to her, and found it somehow oddly comforting.

            “Torrie…Ben…Patty…”

            Patty gave Ella’s hand one last squeeze, then joined the others in line. Ella felt sick. This wasn’t how she’d imagined it. Being plucked out during the very first round of competition.

            “Kim and Ella, we have a few comments to make about your performance in the studio today.”

            Ella nodded, rubbing her clammy palms along the side of her denim skirt. She watched as Heidi, the lone woman on the panel, stood.

            “Let’s start with you, Kim.” She nodded in his direction. “There’s no question that you are a skilled chef, particularly with Asian and Asian-inspired dishes. You’ve impressed us with your knowledge of foods. What we’re not seeing, however, is the ability to speak clearly and concisely. This is a trait that any good TV host or hostess must possess.”

            Ella saw Kim nod his head in acceptance. Her knees buckled a little further when Heidi turned her gaze her way.

            “And Ella. You’ve got definite style, and a real flair for cooking. Just like with Kim, it’s obvious that you, too, have a vast knowledge of kitchen operations. What we’d like to see more of though—and haven’t yet—is Ella.” Heidi stretched her arms wide. “Let us see who you are, Ella. All of you.”

            Ella tried to smile, but wasn’t sure if she’d been successful. She just wanted this moment to end. Whatever the outcome…

            “Ella…we’d like you to…stay.”

            Like a punctured balloon, Ella felt her lungs give out and a burst of air shot through her. “Oh…” A mixture of relief and excitement and a sadness for Kim almost overwhelmed her. She took Kim’s outstretched hand.

            “Good luck,” he nodded to her.

            The next half hour passed in a blur of motion and activity as the group bid their farewells to Kim. When they’d all waved to him as he drove away in a cab, it was a moment of bitter sweetness.

            As the remaining seven sat together, rehashing the day’s events and that night’s elimination ceremony, Ella couldn’t help feeling a bit like a knobby-kneed school girl who had won the spelling bee by default. She listened to the chatter around her, marveling that some of the other contestants had the confidence to openly boast about their progress thus far.

            As near as Ella could tell, the competition was just heating up. And—if today was a clear indicator of things to come—the road to restaurant ownership via this particular route would be bumpy, at best. She was ecstatic that she was still in the game, but her heart ached that it was at the expense of someone else’s dream.

            Tonight, Kim’s dream had been sacrificed.

            Whose would be next?

Chapter Nine

            The next morning, Ella made sure she left in plenty of time to snag one of the front desks in Sound Stage C. She felt surprisingly refreshed after a decent night’s sleep and looked forward to the day, wondering what challenge was next on the docket.

               Kim Yung Lee, the only Asian contestant, walked in right behind Ella. “Good morning.” He bobbed his head toward her, his dark hair waving with the movement. Quiet up to this point, Kim had impressed them all yesterday with his egg fu yung demo.

           After a few minutes of conversation, she learned the forty-five year old Kim owned and operated his own Chinese restaurant in Lubbock, Texas. But the family business was failing and this was Kim’s way of trying to save it.

          Torrie, Ben, and Dirk walked in about that time and Dirk—hearing Kim mention Lubbock—turned the topic of conversation to Texas Tech, his alma mater. “Hey, you missed a great time last night.” Torrie settled into the desk next to Ella’s. She dropped her backpack to the floor and leaned forward, planting her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. “A lot of the crew came out with us. That cute camera man—you know, Luke—he came too.”

          Ella hoped her face showed no emotion. It wasn’t like she cared what Luke Abney did, or who he saw. Or did she? She couldn’t deny the effect he had on her when he was close by: rapid pulse, heart flutters, flushed cheeks…

           No doubt about it. Luke made her heart do weird—yet somehow delicious—flip-flops. Remnants of their conversation still danced in the corners of her mind, making it difficult to hide the smile that was aching to crawl across her face right now. She resisted it, though, grabbing a pencil instead and doodling on her tablet.

            It wasn’t like she cared what Torrie thought. This was Ella’s first experience with this kind of attraction, or chemistry—or whatever this myriad of feelings might be labeled. She wasn’t even sure herself yet how she felt about them. For sure she wasn’t ready to confide them to others.

           It had seemed like there had been a mutual connection back in Milltown, and again on that amazing all-night phone conversation. But the past few days in LA seemed to suggest otherwise.  Almost like she was just one of the gang—someone he spoke nicely to because it was a part of his job.

         “I wanna get to know him better,” Torrie continued, tossing one long platinum braid over her shoulder. “Away from the crowd, you know?” She grinned and Ella felt her stomach plummet. “Some good ‘ol one-on-one time.”

            “Sounds…like a plan.” Ella pulled another notebook from her duffel and pretended to read through some notes. When Torrie took the bait and did the same, Ella blew out a soft breath.

            She needed to get her head in this contest and off of Luke Abney. She sneaked a peek at Torrie. Why in the world would Luke give Ella a second glance when the likes of Torrie Tyler was around?

            The morning session started up at 10 o’clock sharp, and not a moment too soon for Ella. Now that she was ready to put Luke on the back burner of her mind where he belonged, she was ready to throw herself headfirst into the day’s challenge. A fresh zeal burned inside her, an urgency to make the most of this incredible opportunity. If she worked hard and showed the network what she was capable of, maybe…just maybe…this contest would change the course of hers and Chloe’s life.

            “Welcome to Cooking TV 101.” Nathan Charleton began, “Today you’ll learn the basics of live cooking. When you watch Kendall on Meals in Minutes or Toula on Toula’s Home Cooking, what the audience may not realize is that it is a live television performance. Done…in real time.”

            Ella shifted in her chair as Dirk, on her right, whistled softly. That was something she hadn’t realized. The idea was slightly terrifying. Filming for a taped segment sounded daunting enough, but to film for a live feed? Yikes…

            Nathan Charleton nodded at their responses. “Because of this, there is a cardinal rule in our network. A rule that can never be broken, no matter what.”

            Ella grabbed her pen, waiting.

            “A chef can never stop the show. Remember that.”

            Ella heard Dirk mumbling the words as he, too, scribbled furiously on a notepad.

            “Okay, let’s get started.” Nathan clapped his hands and a line of men and women filed into the studio, coming to stand at the front. “Today you’ll meet a few of the folks who make a cooking show possible.”

            Luke Abney was the last to enter. He ended up directly in front of her desk and Ella felt the now familiar tug at her tummy. For the briefest of seconds their eyes locked and—though it was fleeting—time seemed to halt. Ella felt as though this man were looking inside her soul. She straightened in her chair and lowered her eyes, trying to concentrate on the introductions as Nathan Charleton announced each name.

            “…Marnie Wilson!” The host paused as Marnie—just as energetic as she’d been at the meet-and-greet—took a deep bow. “Marnie is our stage manager and she will become your very best friend.” He gave a knowing nod. “Believe me, Marnie is absolutely crucial to your success in this competition.”

            For the next fifteen minutes Marnie explained the use of the dreaded teleprompter and time cards. Ella was amazed at how much useful information she was able to soak up in the short amount of time. The teleprompter would not—contrary to what she’d thought—keep going if the host quits talking. Instead it is regulated to the speed of the host’s voice; if he speaks fast, the teleprompter speeds up, if the host slows it down, the teleprompter matches it.

            “Time for the first challenge of the day.”

            Ella looked up from her notes at Nathan Charleton’ words. Besides the host, the front of the room had been cleared. She didn’t know if she felt more relief or more disappointment that Luke Abney no longer stood in front of her.

            Each contestant was given a task card. These were aqua blue note cards with a given assignment printed on them. Ella heard Torrie groan as she read hers. She turned hers over slowly, her earlier confidence in the day taking a dip.

            Stretch the time, it read. Obviously she’d have to ad-lib, waiting for Marnie to give the signal that there was extra time to fill. It wouldn’t be difficult.

            Ella sighed. It was just out of her comfort zone, was all.

*****

             From behind his camera, Luke zoomed in on Ella’s face. He could see a tiny vein in her neck throbbing wildly and his heart wrenched. She was nervous.

            Come on, Ella, you can do it. He tried to send her telepathic encouragement and he thought that, just for a second, she looked right at him. Not just at his camera, but at him. His breath caught in his throat until she looked down, at some notes in front of her, and the spell was broken.

            He waited for Marnie’s countdown and kept an eye on the stage manager’s arm as it went high into the air.

            “In five…four…three…two…” At one, Marnie’s hand came down and Luke pushed the red button, instantly sending Ella Paglia to the live feed. His throat felt tight and dry as he put his eye to the lens.

            “You want your filling to be rich and creamy,” Ella looked up from the batter she was mixing and smiled into the camera. “Make sure it is mixed well, then pour it into your prepared muffin tins.”

            Luke grinned. Thatta girl! If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought Ella was an old pro at this. He glimpsed Marnie out of the corner of his eye and watched as she gave the signal to stretch the time. There was the briefest gleam of panic in Ella’s dark eyes as they widened at the camera. She paused and Luke held his breath. Keep talking, Ella, don’t stop. Even he knew the cardinal rule of the network. There was flexibility with a lot of things, but not the cardinal rule.

            “I remember as a kid I’d love to help my mother make pies and cakes,” Ella’s smile was back and she was shooting from the hip, filling the time with an anecdote. “My very favorite recipe was a cherry cheesecake—very similar to the one we’re making today.”

            Marnie gave the sign for a commercial break.

            “So when we come back, we’re going to taste these beautiful mini-cheesecakes. Don’t go away.” Ella finished the sentence in a rush of air and then sighed, loudly. Her lapel mic crackled and the contestants and crew laughed. It was clear to everyone that Ella was glad to have this challenge behind her.

            Luke shut the camera off and backed away from the tripod. As Ella passed in front of him on her way back to her seat, he held up both thumbs. “Good job,” he whispered.

            “Thanks,” she whispered.

            Luke reached out without thinking and squeezed her fingertips. He glimpsed the flitter of surprise in her eyes and let go quickly. It wasn’t like him to act on spontaneous impulses—particularly when it came to grabbing a pretty gal’s hand. But there was something about Ella that tugged at his heart. Made him want to reassure her. Care for her. Let her know he was around if she needed him.

            He ignored the pang of disappointment that swam around in his gut when Ella continued on to her seat. Last night’s encounter in the shopping district on Melrose had been much too short. That brief conversation with Ella had done nothing except make him want more time with her.

            Of course, seeing the modeling agency where Tessa was a client had been jarring, to say the least. He’d not known the agency had changed locations and seeing the sign last night had temporarily brought all the craziness from the “Tessa years” sharply back into focus. It hadn’t been until later, when he was lying wide-awake in bed, still thinking about his chance meeting on the street with Ella that something very clear began to seep into his thoughts.

            Everything he’d thought he’d wanted in Tessa, everything he thought he’d found—had ultimately been nothing more than a mirage of the heart. Yet, in Ella, those very things were alive and well. So close to him, close enough for him to reach out and grasp, if he wanted.

            If only he knew Ella felt the same way…

 *****

             Ella all but melted into her seat. Her heart still raced from the rush of adrenaline that had pumped like fuel through her veins while on camera. She knew her cheeks were hot and flushed. Normally that would embarrass her, but right now she didn’t even care.    She was floating—riding the relief of having another scary challenge behind her. Luke Abney’s unexpected touch had been like the cherry on a sundae for her. As she’d walked by, she’d glimpsed the victory she felt gleaming in his own eyes. As though he shared the moment with her.

            Relaxing, she watched the final two contestants take their turns. She and the others bit back laughs as Dirk’s comical expressions grew even more outrageous as he tried—rather unsuccessfully—to make seamless switches from one camera to the next.          

             Torrie’s task was called the “swap-out”—placing one pan in the oven and pulling out another of the finished result. The real trick was to do this while never breaking your train of speech, something Ella knew Torrie could do with ease.

            What no one anticipated, though, was that in her haste to finish her segment in time, Torrie pulled the unbaked pan of brownies from the oven instead of the finished one. Ella saw it before Torrie, and her heart ached for the girl. She shouldn’t have worried though. Torrie’s giggles at her own mistake proved infectious and soon even Marnie and Nathan Charleton chuckled with her.

            If Ella had any reservations about how Torrie Tyler would fare in this competition, they flew out the window at that moment. Torrie had the entire studio eating out of her hand. With southern charm and a voice of honey, Torrie knew how to do something Ella feared she’d never learn herself: Torrie was comfortable in her own skin. It worked for her and—this time anyway—earned her a standing ovation.

            Ella rose with the others, reaching out to hug Torrie as she came back to her seat. As she did, she caught sight of Luke Abney standing beside his camera. A big grin crawled across his face and he raised one thumb in the air again. Releasing Torrie, she returned the signal to Luke, knowing her own smile mirrored the one on his face.

            Torrie might have received the standing ovation. But Ella had received something far more. She’d conquered another fear today and, in her celebration, she’d found another soul who—in his own quiet way—clearly celebrated with her.

by Staci Wilder          

                         Chapter Eight

            Ella had been soaking in the tub for only ten minutes when she heard the knock on the door. Tempted at first to ignore it, she sank lower in the water, loving the way the lavender scented bubbles tickled the sides of her neck. She closed her eyes and allowed the hot water to soothe tired muscles. If she wasn’t careful, she might just fall asleep—

            The knock came again, this time louder. Ella blew out a sigh and stood. She reached for a thick white towel, and then draped it around her dripping body. Easing out of the bathroom, she tiptoed across the carpet, trailing a line of water behind her. One glance in the peephole told her the visitor was Torrie.

            “Hey,” she opened the door just enough to see most of the girl’s face. “What’s up?”

            “Were you in the shower?” Torrie’s tone was immediately apologetic. “I’m sorry, honey. Listen, a bunch of us are going out for a bite to eat. Want to come?”

            “I don’t think so, thanks.” Ella wished she had the energy, but all she wanted was to finish her bath, talk to her baby, and slide between the sheets.

            Torrie peeked around her, looking inside the room. “You mean you’re staying in tonight?”

            “Afraid so.” Ella grinned, thinking of her bath water growing colder by the minute. It didn’t seem as though Torrie were in any particular hurry. Ella stepped back, making sure the door hid her from anyone that might be passing down the hallway. “Come on in.”

            Torrie walked in and dropped her purse on the end table. She spotted the chocolate-chip cookie left by the hotel staff the night before and reached for it. “You mean you haven’t devoured this yet?” The girl’s eyes danced with glee. “They are so yummy!”

            “Go for it.” Ella pulled the towel tighter, trying not to compare her own curvy body with the model-straight form of Torrie. “You eat it.” She shrugged. “Too many Weight Watcher points, anyway.”

            “Hm?” Torrie took the cookie and sank onto the sofa. “Weight Watcher has points now? I’ve never been to a meeting. Are they fun?”

            Ella laughed. Was this girl for real? “Fun? Uh…no. Don’t think ‘fun’ is the word. Necessary, maybe. At least for some of us.”

            Torrie broke off a large chunk of cookie and held it up. “You sure?”

            Ella waved a hand. “Be my guest.” It was disappointing to watch the delectable goodie disappear, but that was at least fifteen WW flex points she wouldn’t be tempted to spend, after all. Thank goodness for small favors, even when they did come in the form of Torrie—with an ‘ie’.

            “I’ll be back in a second, okay?” Ella grabbed a bottle of water and set it on the coffee table in front of Torrie. “Make yourself comfy. I’m going to put something on besides this towel.”

            In the bathroom, Ella let the water drain from the tub, frowning as the lukewarm liquid spun from sight. So much for her relaxing bubble bath. Grabbing her robe from the hook behind the door, she slipped it on and then ran a comb through her damp hair.

            “You sure you don’t want to go out tonight?” Torrie asked as Ella flipped the bathroom light off. “It’ll be fun. There’s sure to be some cute single men there…”

            Torrie hung the term out there like it was a much sought-after, long-cherished prize. Just there for the plucking.

            Ella sank onto the opposite end of the sofa and shook her head. “I’m sure.” She gestured toward the bed. “I’m calling it an early night.”

            “You have a little daughter, right?” Torrie pointed to the silver-framed photo on the nightstand.

            Ella reached for it and handed it to the girl. “Yes, this is Chloe.” She smiled with pride. “She’s my little bundle of sunshine.”

            “And Chloe’s daddy?”

            Ella stared at Torrie, not quite believing the girl had the audacity to ask the question in such a blunt way.

Torrie’s blue eyes rounded with dismay. “I’m sorry! That was rude, wasn’t it?” She tapped the photo and then handed it back to Ella. “Cute little girl. She looks like you. So you’re divorced then?”

            Ella stared down into the picture of the smiling toddler. Chloe did look like her. “She has her father’s personality.” Stephen had been full of life—loving people, adventure, and their life together. “And no,” she said quietly, “I’m not divorced. My husband, Chloe’s father, passed away a couple of years ago.”

            “No way!” Torrie’s mouth hung open in shock. “But you’re so…young.”

            Ella remembered a time not that long ago when she’d felt as invincible as Torrie now sounded. Too vital to succumb to life’s hardships, and certainly too young to lose a husband.

            “Well,” she hedged, “young or not, here I am.” Ella didn’t feel the need to share the intimate details of her life, or her loss, with Torrie.

            “So what was it like?” Apparently Torrie  wasn’t picking up on her vibe. “I mean, to lose your husband. And to have a baby on top of all that. Whoosh…” The girl tossed a long lock of her platinum hair over one shoulder and made a face. “How did you survive it?”

            There were some days Ella still wasn’t sure she had survived. Days when single parenthood loomed dark and endless. Nights when loneliness knocked on her bedroom door, offering nothing more than tormented memories and a cold spot in the bed next to her.

            “Ella?” Torrie’s voice, still inquisitive, softened. “I’m asking too many questions, aren’t I?” She at least had the decency to look properly chagrined.

            “No, that’s okay.” Ella pulled the sash of her robe tighter. “I lost the love of my life. My best friend.” She shrugged. It was as simple and as complicated as that.

            “Oh, wow.” Torrie stared at her. “I’m sorry, Ella. I can’t even imagine.”

            No, Ella didn’t suppose the girl could imagine. Until they were faced with it, how could anyone really relate to this kind of loss?
            “I guess I’d better scoot. The others will be waiting for me.” Torrie stood. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind and come with us?”

            “Not this time.” Ella forced a smile. “You have fun, okay?”

Torrie hesitated. “If you change your mind, we’ll just be down the block. Sal’s Pizza.”

            “Got it,” Ella smiled. She couldn’t help but like this girl. Whether it was the Southern drawl or the childlike innocence, Ella really liked this Torrie with an ‘ie’.

            After turning her skin to a prune-like state, Ella dressed in her pajamas and climbed into the bed with her cell phone. Punching in Reggie’s number, she waited impatiently as it rang. Once…twice…three times…

            “Hello?” Reggie’s voice sounded frazzled, not at all like the normal, placid person Ella knew and loved.

            “Reg? It’s me. Is everything okay? Is Chloe alright?”

            She heard Reggie stifle a giggle on the other end of the line. “Your daughter is absolutely fine. Me, on the other hand, well…I’m a mess!”

            Ella smiled and sank back against the fluffy pillows, relieved to hear her best friend laughing. “Let me guess. She spit her peas out at you. Or…no, wait, I know! You gave her a bath and she splashed you.”

            “Bingo.” Reggie hadn’t sounded this tired in ages. “I don’t know how you do it, Ella. Motherhood is hard work.”

            “Tell me about it, sister!” Ah, maybe this arrangement wasn’t working out too badly after all. Ella was experiencing an opportunity of a lifetime and Reggie was exploring life beyond herself.  Not a bad trade, if you asked Ella.

            “Hey, El.” Reggie must have changed positions because there was a moment of static and then her voice, close and clear again. “Have you tried Mocha Lights yet?”

            “Mocha Lights?” Ella frowned. “Oh! You mean the coffee shop you told me about? No, haven’t had time yet.”

            “Do me a favor?” Reggie’s voice took on a wistful tone. “Go there soon, okay? And have a caramel macchiato for me. Promise?” Reggie pressed. “Will you do that?”

            Ella laughed. Reggie might be having a grand time with Chloe but it was woefully apparent that she missed the perks of her LA life.

            “Sure, I can do that. One caramel macchiato for you, and something considerably lighter for me.”

            When Ella punched the off button five minutes later, she felt a bit sorry for her best friend. And more than a tad sorry for herself. Reggie might be missing her life here in Hollywood.

            But Ella missed her baby girl.

 *****

             Luke hadn’t wanted to go out.

            Now—three hours later and packed like a sardine in a booth with Ernie, a fellow crew member, and three of the contest finalists—he still didn’t want to be here. Sal’s was jumping tonight, even if it was a Monday night, and the noise level alone was enough to give a guy a migraine.

            Add Torrie Tyler to that equation and the headache only grew.

            Not that Luke didn’t like the girl. He didn’t even know her, for Pete’s sake. She seemed nice enough and, he had to admit, he liked listening to her talk. But after three hours, even the most melodic of voices tended to grate on a man’s last nerve.

            “So anyway, my Mama said no way could I work there.” Torrie went on with her story, leaning in close to his right side. “But I took the job anyway, eventually working my way from fry girl right on up to short order.” She shrugged her slim shoulders, which were bare except for two skinny spaghetti straps. “It wasn’t a glamorous job, but it’s where I learned to cook.”

            Luke nodded. “Impressive, really.”  He caught Ernie’s eyes across the table. Rescue me, man! Ernie grinned and gave him the thumbs up sign. “Hey, we all have to start somewhere, right?” Luke stifled a yawn.

            “That’s so true.” Torrie’s eyes grew large and she stared hard at him. “What about you, Luke? What was your first job?”

            Oh, Lord, I don’t want to be here. The prayer slipped from his mind heavenward. When would he learn to pay attention to his instincts? He hadn’t wanted to come out in the first place. He should have stood firm and stayed home, no matter how pathetic Ernie’s cajoling became.

            Luke knew the truth, knew why he’d come tonight even though it wasn’t his custom to keep late nights during the week. He thought Ella Paglia might be here. When Kurt had said they were meeting the contestants for dinner at Sal’s, he just assumed Ella would be a part of that group.

            But she hadn’t shown up, and Luke was sorry he’d come.

            “You know what?” He forced a smile he hoped was brighter than he felt at the moment. “My story would bore you. Really. And…oh—” Luke glanced at his wristwatch—“would you look at the time. I’m afraid I’ve got to run, guys.”

            “Really?” Torrie set her mouth in a mock pout. “Can’t you stay a few more minutes?”

            Already Luke was pushing on Andy, a fellow crew member, making him get up so he could slide out of the booth. “No, I’d better not. I’ll see you soon.” He tossed a final wave to the group and headed for the entrance.

            When he pushed open the door and sucked in a lungful of fresh air, it was none too soon.

*****

            The cab pulled up in front of a classy-looking strip of cafes and specialty shops on Melrose Avenue. Nestled between a baby boutique and a nail salon was Mocha Lights. Ella handed a couple of bills to the cabbie. “Keep the change.”

            The man nodded, briefly, his eyes meeting hers in the rear view mirror. “Thanks, ma’am. Want me to wait?”

            Ella glanced at the coffee shop, which seemed to be alive with both, patrons and activity, in spite of the late hour. She shook her head. “No. I think I’ll be here a while.”

            Stepping back from the curb, she narrowly avoided bumping head-first into a passer-by. The sidewalks were full of people. Many of the surrounding shops seemed to be open, though it was well past normal business hours. Ella had always heard that folks on the west coast didn’t start their days until later. They must end them much later as well.

            Taking in a deep breath, Ella pushed open the door to the coffee shop and walked inside. Mocha Lights seemed to be a cozy combination of Starbucks and a local library. While a full coffee bar stood on the left-hand side—complete with bar seating and individual tables—rows of dark mahogany bookshelves, at least seven feet high, lined the right-hand side of the space. While there must be at least thirty people in the small store, the fragrant aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and the quiet reverence around the bookshelves lent an air of quaint elegance to the place.

            Ella waited in line to place her order from a tall kid with a long shaggy haircut working behind the counter.

            “Can I help you?” He brushed the hair from his forehead and squinted at her.

             “Sure. How about a grande caramel macchiato? With skim milk and no whipped cream, please.”

            “’Kay. It’ll be ready in a few minutes.” He handed her the change and motioned with his head. “Feel free to look around while you wait.”

            Ella nodded and moved aside to make room for the next customer in line. Pushing her wallet back inside her purse, she made her way toward the bookshelves. Many of the books were worn with age or use, but all were neat and in alphabetical order. It wasn’t until she’d pulled a dog-eared copy of Pride and Prejudice, followed by a gently used version of Catcher in the Rye, that Ella realized the shelves housed beloved classics.

            She didn’t recall ever seeing a coffee shop quite like this one, and wished she’d visited Mocha Lights before now. She’d been inside for less than five minutes and already it felt more homey to her than the room she’d occupied for the past several days at the Radisson. Ella made a mental note to thank Reggie for recommending this spot.

            She turned a corner and made another delightful discovery. Behind the shelves, tucked in a small yet cozy alcove, about half the size of her hotel room, were half a dozen stuffed chairs and large floor pillows scattered about the space. Pleased with her find, and anxious to return to the reading area with a couple of good books, Ella walked back to the counter just as the teen finished making her drink.

            “Thanks.” She accepted the steamy cup of coffee. “Are you always this crowded?”

            The boy grinned and nodded. “Pretty much. It’s a rad place, huh?”

            “Yeah, really rad.” Ella smiled, thinking of the rowdy group of high schoolers who frequented Max’s Diner back in Milltown, and how much they would enjoy a trendy hang-out spot like this one.

            “Have you worked here long?” She perched on a stool and watched as he poured more milk into the steamer.

            “Most of this semester.” The boy nodded, and pushed a lever, sending a hissing noise into the air around them. “Micah’s a good boss.” He tossed his head, sending the thick wave of bangs far enough from his eyes so he could see her better. “Have you met Micah?”

            Ella took a cautious sip of the hot drink and shook her head. “This is my first time here.”

            “Really?” The kid smiled for the first time, revealing a mouth full of braces. “I bet it won’t be your last. This place is addictive.”

            “I’m sure it is.” Ella glanced around, fully understanding how this charming coffee shop with its shelves full of timeless works of literature could be a definite drawing card to a select crowd. She smiled at the boy. “And I’m sure you’re right. I’ll most likely be back.”

            “Normally Micah is here. I’m Lex, by the way.” He sheepishly reached out to shake her hand.

            “Hi, Lex. My name is Ella.” She smiled at Lex, thinking how handsome the boy was when he smiled.

            “Micah had to run an errand or he’d be here now. You should check us out on Tuesday nights.” He used his thumb to motion toward the back. “That’s the book club night. I think the group is reading Mansfield Park right now. By Jane Austen.”

            Lex reached across her and picked up the top brochure from a small stand on the counter. He opened it up and pointed to a highlighted paragraph. “Or maybe you’d be interested in Blended Hearts? They meet once a month, on Friday nights.”

            Ella frowned. “Is that a singles group?” She clenched her fist and stuck it in her lap, reminded once again how naked her ring finger felt without her solid gold wedding band around it.

            “No.” The boy laughed. “That’s what most people think at first though. It’s a support group for single parents. They talk about issues with their kids.” He shrugged and looked up as the front door swung open again and a new string of customers streamed inside. “Stuff like that.”

            “Uh huh. I see.” Ella took the brochure and stuck it in her bag. “Well, Lex, it was nice to meet you.” She smiled at him and was rewarded with a lop-sided grin in return. “I think I’ll look around a bit more and then head out. But I’ll be back.”

            Twenty minutes later Ella regretfully closed the copy of a biography of  T.S. Eliot and gave a last wave to Lex, who was still busy behind the counter. Already she looked forward to the next opportunity to visit Mocha Lights.

            Outside on the sidewalk, she paused to glance inside the baby boutique, and then walked a little further, doing more window shopping. It was getting late and she really should be heading back to the hotel, but she was reluctant to end the most peaceful evening she’d had so far in Los Angeles.

            “Ella?”

            She whirled around, already recognizing the husky voice of Luke Abney. Her heart hammered as she searched for her voice. “Luke! Hello! Wow…I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

            Stupid, stupid, stupid. Ella could have kicked herself as she gazed up at him. Coming up with cute comebacks and memorable one-liners certainly wasn’t her forte.

            His grin lit his entire face, somewhat shrouded by the now familiar purple Lakers cap. “You know what?” He reached out and took her by the elbow, gently pulling her out of the way as a noisy group traipsed past them. “I didn’t expect to see you either.”

            Ella felt her cheeks turn hot and she was grateful for the darkness. How long would it be before Luke Abney noticed she always managed to blush a disturbing shade of red whenever he spoke to her?

            He looked down at her, his fingers still lightly on her arm. “How are you?” His voice, low and so close to her ear, sent shivers of—anticipation or dread, Ella wasn’t sure which—dancing up and down her spine. Three short simple words and yet, combined with the intimacy of his tone and his touch on her skin, they created such intensity inside her that Ella didn’t quite trust herself to speak.

            She nodded. “I’m good,” she finally managed to utter.

            “You did great today.” He edged even closer. “Is it okay for me to say that? Does it make you even more nervous knowing that people are watching you?”

            Ella felt all she could do was nod again. She finally looked up at him, knowing that to do so was the same as giving her knees permission to quake and her heart justification to speed up.

            If he only knew. Yes, Luke, it does make me more nervous. But not for the reasons he’d thought. It was knowing that Luke Abney’s deep blue eyes followed her every move on set that caused her pulse to do a little break dance of its own inside her.

            “Thank you.” She managed to smile. “And yes, it’s okay for you to talk about the show. And yes—” she gave him a playful punch in the arm—“it does make me nervous knowing I’m being watched so closely.”

            He laughed, and Ella loved the sound of it.

            “I have to hand it to you. And to the others, for that matter. I don’t see how you guys do it.  I’ve worked behind the camera for years now and I’m still amazed that anyone can cook, talk, and keep up with the camera changes—all at the same time.”

            Ella relaxed, enjoying his easy banter. They walked together for a while, talking, not really paying attention to the time or where they were. It wasn’t until they reached a corner a couple of blocks away that Luke paused. Ella glanced up at him, noticing subtle changes on his features. His grin had been replaced by brows now knitted in thought, and he worked his jaw as though irritated.

            “You okay?”

            Her words seemed to  startle him, but he recovered quickly. “Sure, fine.”

            He smiled down at her, but Ella felt the warmth of it was now forced.

            “It’s getting late. I guess I’d better hail a cab.”

            Luke jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “My truck is parked a few blocks back. Want me to give you a lift?”

            Five minutes earlier and Ella might have accepted. But now there was something she couldn’t quite pinpoint in Luke’s mannerisms that puzzled her. He’d been totally into their conversation and then—boom!—something had claimed his attention.

            “No, no. That’s okay. I’ll just catch a cab.”

            A door opened in the corner shop and Luke jumped. They watched as two people—a man and a much older woman—emerged, locked the door, and rounded the corner. Luke blew out a breath and smiled down at her.

            “You sure? Because I don’t mind taking you back to the hotel.”

            “I’m sure. Really. I’m sure you had errands or plans tonight. I don’t want to keep you from anything.”

            “Nothing special.” Luke shrugged, but his grin was genuine and bright again. He hailed a passing cab and helped her climb inside. Ella found it impossible to take her eyes off of his as he shut the taxi door between them.

            “Bye.” She watched his mouth form the word as he stepped back onto the curb, and she fought the overwhelming urge to push open the cab door and take him up on the offer of that ride home.

 Mr. Romance

In Life with Lord Byron: Laughter, Romance, and Lessons Learned from Golf’s Greatest Gentleman, Peggy Nelson pens a charming personal memoir.

Her detailed recall of conversations and situations reveals a deep love that marked the Nelsons’ relationship and nearly twenty-year marriage must have kept her memories fresh. 

Byron married Peggy, more than thirty years his junior, at age seventy-five. Since her husband retired in 1946 after a career that included the famous “Eleven Straight” PGA tournament victory streak, Peggy experienced none of his career firsthand. What she did experience, however, was a man of deep faith, love, and integrity.
 

 Here’s an excerpt: Read it, enjoy it, and then leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of the book, which includes a CD of Byron Nelson himself reminiscing.

By Peggy Nelson

There were moments in our nearly twenty years together when I would fall far short of Byronʼs or even my own standards of patience, perseverance, and several other virtues. When I would wonder aloud to him about how he managed to put up with me, or what he saw in me in the first place, he would sometimes say, “I saw what you could be.” Isnʼt that amazing? He had such a gift for not only seeing the best in people but helping them, often in some unspoken way, to bring it out, and to become better people just because they had been around him, even for a little while. Youʼre beginning to see, I think, why I have always felt that Iʼm an extraordinarily blessed woman.

One of the most wonderful signs of Byronʼs love was something he did for our second anniversary. Unbeknownst to me he had gone out to Preston Trail where there was a display of some of his medals and other small mementos and asked if he could replace the 1937 Masters Gold Medal with another one he had. They cooperated, fortunately, and he then took that precious piece of history to our jeweler and had it made into a beautiful pendant and gave it to me. It truly brought tears to my eyes, because I knew that was the most important tournament in his career to him, so I understood how much it signified of not only his love for me but also his trust that I could prove worthy of such a gift.

You may wonder what our days and weeks and months and years together were like. We quickly developed a comfortable pattern of normalcy. When we were at home, we had breakfast together, and then Byron would do the dishes and go out to his shop for some woodworking. He would come in later for lunch, then go back to the shop or maybe to play golf with friends in Dallas or Fort Worth. We typically had a fairly early dinner and relaxed in the evenings together. At first I remember Byron had been so used to going to bed early while Louise was ill that he thought 9:30 was about the right time to go to sleep. But he had also been used to getting up at 5:30 or 6 to take care of Louise.

Fortunately, we were soon able to change that schedule by a couple of hours.  Soon after we celebrated our first one-month anniversary, Byron announced his next goal was to make it to one hundred months, which we gleefully celebrated with an elegant dinner at the Four Seasons. The monthly anniversaries continued until we got to ten years, then he wanted to get to two hundred months, which we did. Each month was sweeter than the one before, until finally, just eleven days before he went to heaven, we celebrated number 238 at the Olive Garden, another of our favorite restaurants. How we delighted in each other!

When we were driving to Dallas, Fort Worth, Kerrville or wherever, we held hands. Byronʼs were always so warm, and of course, if you ever got to shake hands with him, you knew his hands were really big. In fact, when we were first married, his grip on mine as we drove along would slowly, gradually, get tighter and tighter until I would need to shake mine a little bit to restore the circulation. One time when I did that, he apologized and said, “I guess Iʼm trying to make sure youʼre not going to go back to Ohio.” Fat chance. 

As everyone who knew Byron well would agree, he was a born encourager. He found ways to express his appreciation and enjoyment of others and did so at every opportunity. Above the other compliments from him, my very favorite was when he would say, “When you look at me, your eyes sparkle and dance!” It said so much about the feeling that flowed between the two of us. He really did light up my life so beautifully that it was the most natural thing in the world to reflect that light right back to him. I always had the same reaction when we had been separated even for as little as an hour at church, if I was helping with a childrenʼs class while he was in the adult Bible study. When I would catch sight of him again, my heart would beat faster, and Iʼd say to myself, There he is!

 We had so many pet names for each other that some folks might find it a bit silly, but we enjoyed and used every single one: Honeypot, Queen of All Queens, Sleeping Tiger, Adorable Darling, Angeldoll, Cuddlebear, and the like. And of course, on a more formal note, we occasionally addressed each other as Mr. Nelson and Mrs. Nelson just for the sheer joyful fun of it.

I felt so secure, so completely cherished and appreciated in every way with Byron. His praise of my every little accomplishment, or sometimes just the way I walked, was unceasing. It occurred to me that, if we could only hear what God is saying to us, it would be like that, too—constant praise and gentle guidance when we needed it. Or occasionally it might be a stronger no when a temptation gets a little too strong for us to handle by ourselves.

KCWC is now scheduling interviews with Peggy Nelson. Contact Kathy Carlton Willis at WillisWay@aol.com for more information.