Now I understood why Eugenie had asked me to find out if the fruit grew in Minnesota.
I sat down as she glanced up from the papers in front of her. “I had tea with your friend Maggie last evening at her flat. You have a pair of very photogenic cats.”
I smiled. “Owen and Hercules do love the camera.”
“Maggie told me the calendar is a promotional tool for the town.”
I nodded. “It is. The first printing sold out and we had to do a second one, and people are already asking if there’s going to be a follow-up calendar.”
“What a smashing idea,” Eugenie said. “How did your cats end up being the models?”
I explained how Ruby had worked with the boys before, painting both of their portraits to be auctioned to benefit the charity Cat People.
“Both Owen and Hercules are feral. They came from a property just outside of town. They won’t let anyone aside from me touch them, but they do like Ruby.” I smiled. “Probably because she gives them treats.”
“They’re clearly very intelligent and talented creatures.”
You don’t know the half of it, I thought.
“Would it be possible to obtain a copy of the calendar?” Eugenie asked. “I’d like to hang it on the set. I don’t think Elias would object.”
Since Elias Braeden was a big supporter of promoting Mayville Heights, I didn’t think he would mind, either.
“If the former version of the show is any indication, after each episode we’ll hear from viewers looking for more information abut something they’ve noticed on the set—everything from our vintage refrigerators to that intricate metalwork sun hanging above the cabinets on the rear wall. In the past they even had inquiries about the aprons the contestants wore.” She adjusted her glasses again. “The cameras are always panning around the kitchen so it’s quite possible your calendar will attract some attention. Owen and Hercules are very striking.”
“Yes, I can get you a copy of the calendar,” I said. “And thank you for thinking of displaying it on the set.”
Eugenie smiled. “You’re most welcome.”
I decided to check with Lita over at Henderson Holdings. Everett and Rebecca had bankrolled the calendar project and Lita, who was Everett’s assistant, might still have a copy or two. If she didn’t, I would give Eugenie the one I had hanging in my office at the library. “The library closes at eight. I could leave the calendar at the security desk on my way home tonight,” I offered.
“I’ll likely be here at that time,” she said. “We have a production meeting and Russell and I are going to work on another magic trick.”
Over the two weeks I’d been working with her I had noticed how Eugenie always made an effort, in her understated way, to work references to Minnesota in general and Mayville Heights in particular into the show. She had already managed to get both the library gazebo and the Stratton Theatre in the opening credits.
Before she went back to scanning her notes, Eugenie handed me a piece of paper. “I thought perhaps you would like to see this. It’s a mock-up for an advertisement that will be running in People magazine.”
“So the show’s been picked up by someone?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Not as far as I know. Elias is just trying to generate some interest.”
I studied the ad. It featured Eugenie and Russell on the Riverwalk. Russell was sitting in a tree with what looked to be a tiny paper bird on his shoulder. They were joined by Kassie and the other judge, Richard Kent. Richard was leaning against the tree with one hand on the trunk. There were no paper birds on his shoulder, just his black Longines diving watch on his right wrist.
“I like this,” I said. The boardwalk and the shoreline were highlighted by the new leaves on the trees, and the cloudless, deep blue sky seemed to go on forever.
“We all do look rather attractive,” Eugenie said. She bent her head over the notes again and went back to reading, one finger making its way rapidly down the page.
I made a mental note to send my mom a quick e-mail—she wasn’t much for texting—to tell her to watch for the ad. Mom and Richard Kent had worked together recently. My mother played a recurring character on the daytime drama The Wild and Wonderful. She was immensely popular with fans and the soap would have happily signed her to a long-term contract. A standing offer was on the table. But Mom’s heart belonged to the stage. She wasn’t willing to make a commitment to television. Still, she was happy to stop in for a short stint on the show two or three times a year.
“All those fans that are clamoring for me to join the show permanently would probably get tired of my face if they saw it all the time,” she had said to me after the last offer from The Wild and Wonderful producers.
Given her popularity, I doubted that was true. My mother had that undefinable quality that drew people to her. It was more than charm, more than the fact that she was beautiful and funny. There was just something about her that made people want to be around her. I was a little biased because she was my mother, but I had always thought it was her genuine interest in people that made her so compelling.
Richard Kent had guested on The Wild and Wonderful just over a year ago, playing himself in a short scene set at an extravagant gala in which an evil twin came back from the dead with a new face. Mom and the celebrity chef had had the briefest of encounters in the scene. Richard and her character had bumped into each other on the fictional gala’s red carpet and exchanged quick apologies with each one going in the opposite direction. Then they had both turned back to take a second look.
Their chemistry was electric: my mother’s character smiling over her shoulder and Richard looking at her like he had just seen the woman of his dreams. Their pairing had fans before the one-hour episode was over. The fact that Richard was about half Mom’s age bothered no one. As Maggie—who was a big fan of the show—had explained, “They almost shorted out my TV.”
Not something you really want to hear about your mother and a man who isn’t your father but is a couple of years younger than you are.
But Mom had that effect on people—men and women—and I could see why viewers of the show had liked Richard. He was the most popular member of The Great Northern Baking Showdown at least as far as online, preshow buzz went. Eugenie came a close second. Richard had gone to study at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris when he was just sixteen. He’d gone from pastry chef to head chef at a popular New York City restaurant in less than five years. He was tall and lean and he didn’t look like he indulged in any of his decadent desserts very often. He wore his short dark hair trimmed close on the sides, longer on the top. His most striking feature was his deep brown eyes.
Maggie had told me that a group of fans had started a petition to get Mom and Richard together on the show once again. I had a feeling that he might be open to the idea. When I’d been introduced to him the very first thing he’d said to me was, “You’re Thea’s daughter, aren’t you?” If he thought that anything other than a fictional relationship would ever happen with Mom, he was going to be disappointed. My father was the only man for my mother. They were crazy about each other, and sometimes they were just plain crazy, which is why they had been married, divorced and then married again.
Like my mother, Richard also had the reputation for having chemistry with just about everyone he worked with—at least the women. He was also reputed to have a bit of a short temper, although I hadn’t seen or heard any evidence of that so far. However, the chemistry between him and Kassie Tremayne seemed to be lacking. The two of them got along well enough on camera to make the show work, but I had noticed that they ignored each other the rest of the time. There was none of the easy rapport Richard had shared with his co-host on another cooking show, a chef named Camilla Flores.