Georgeanne felt as if she were falling. She’d taped six shows, and the feelings got only slightly better each time. She told herself to relax and have fun. She wasn’t on live television, and if she messed up, she could stop and start over. But still, her nerves churned in her stomach as she looked into the camera and confessed, “I don’t know if y’all know this, but I’m from Dallas- the land of big hats and big hair. I’ve studied cuisine from all over the world, but I earned my spurs cooking Tex-Mex. When most people think of Tex-Mex, they think tacos. Well, I’m going to show you something a little different.”
For over an hour, Georgeanne chopped mangoes, chilies, and tomatoes. When she was finished, she pulled an already-prepared, simple yet elegant dinner with a Texas theme out of the oven. “Next week,” she said, standing beside a vase of black-eyed Susans, “We’re going to take a break from the kitchen, and I’m going to show you how to personalize your picture frames. It’s real easy to do and a lot of fun. See y’all then.”
The light on top of the camera blinked off, and Georgeanne let out a deep breath. Today’s taping hadn’t gone too badly. She’d only dropped the pork loin once and read the words wrong three times. Not like the first show. The first show had taken seven hours to tape. It had already aired a few days ago, and she was so positive that her chocolate mousse had bombed with the viewers that she hadn’t the nerve to watch it herself. Charles had seen the show, of course, and had insisted that she wasn’t boring and didn’t look fat and stupid. She didn’t trust him not to humor her.
Lexie stepped over several cables taped to the floor and walked toward Georgeanne. “I gotta go to the bathroom,” she announced.
Georgeanne reached behind her back and untied her apron. She was wired with a portable microphone.
“Give me a few minutes and I’ll take you.”
“I can go by myself.”
“I’ll take her,” a young production assistant offered.
Georgeanne smiled her gratitude.
Lexie frowned and took the assistant’s hand. “I’m not five anymore,” she grumbled.
Georgeanne watched her daughter go and pulled the apron over her head. One of the conditions to her doing the show was that she be allowed to bring Lexie to the tapings. Charles had agreed and had given Lexie the title of “creative consultant.” Lexie helped with ideas, and she came to the studio and helped Georgeanne prepare the finished dishes beforehand.
“You were great today,” Charles greeted her as he emerged from the back of the studio. He waited until her microphone was taken away before he put his arm around her shoulders. “Viewer response from the first show looks real good.”
Georgeanne gave a sigh of relief and looked up at him. She didn’t want him to keep her show because of their personal relationship. “Are you sure you’re not just saying that to be nice to me?”
He placed his mouth at her temple. “I’m sure.” She felt his smile when he said, “If your numbers stink, I promise I’ll fire you.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He kissed the side of her head, then pulled back. “Why don’t you and Lexie have dinner with me and Amber?”
Georgeanne grabbed her purse from behind the kitchen counter that served as part of the studio set. “Can’t. John is picking up Lexie tonight for their first visit.”
Charles’s brows drew together over his gray eyes. “Do you want me to be there with you?”
Georgeanne shook her head. “I’ll be okay,” she said, but she didn’t think she would. She was afraid that after Lexie left, she’d fall apart, and she wanted to be alone if she did. Charles had been a very good friend, but he couldn’t help her now, not this time.
Three days after her return from Cannon Beach, she’d told Charles about the trip. She’d told him everything except the part about the sex. He hadn’t been happy to hear she’d spent time with John, but he hadn’t asked a lot of questions either. Instead, he’d given her the name of his ex-wife’s attorney and reoffered the half-hour television show. She’d needed the money and had accepted with the conditions that the shows be taped instead of live and that Lexie be welcome to accompany her.
A week later, she’d signed a contract.
“What does Lexie think about spending time with her father?”
Georgeanne hooked her leather bag over her shoulder. “I don’t really know. I know she’s a little confused about her last name now that it’s Kowalsky. She has a hard time spelling it, but other than that, she doesn’t say much.”
“She doesn’t talk about him?”
For several weeks after Lexie had learned that John was her father, she’d been cold and distant toward Georgeanne. Georgeanne had tried to explain why she’d lied, and Lexie had listened quietly. Then she’d directed all of her anger at her mother, hurting them both before letting it go. Their lives would never be the same. But for the most part, she was the same little girl now that she’d been before she’d learned of John. Although there were also times when she was unusually quiet. Georgeanne didn’t have to ask her what she was thinking, she just knew. “I’ve told her John was coming to pick her up for a visit tonight. She didn’t say much about it, just asked when he’d bring her back home.”
Lexie returned from the bathroom and the three of them walked from the studio toward the front entrance of the building. “Guess what, Charles.”
“What?”
“I’m in the first grade. My teacher’s name is Mrs. Berger. Like hamburger without the ham. I like her ‘cause she’s nice and ’cause she gots a gerbil in our classroom. He’s brown and white and has little tiny ears. Everyone named him Stimpy. I wanted to name him Pongo, but I didn’t get to.” She kept up a steady stream of chatter all the way through the building and out into the parking lot. But in the car on the drive home, she was very quiet. Georgeanne tried to talk to her, but she was clearly distracted.
From a block away, Georgeanne noticed John’s Range Rover parked in front of her house. She saw him sitting on her front porch, his feet apart and his forearms resting on his thighs. She pulled her car into the driveway and glanced over at the passenger seat. Lexie stared straight ahead at the garage door and sucked her top lip between her teeth. Her little hands tightly gripped the clipboard Charles had given her so she could write down her ideas for future shows. On the paper she’d drawn several misshaped cats and dogs and had written the words “pet sho.”
“Are you nervous?” she asked her daughter, feeling her own butterflies take flight.
Lexie shrugged.
“If you don’t want to go, I don’t think he’ll make you,” Georgeanne said, hoping she spoke the truth.
Lexie was silent for a while before she asked, “Do you think he likes me?”
Georgeanne’s throat constricted. Lexie, who was always so sure of herself, always so sure that everyone just automatically loved her, wasn’t so sure of her daddy. “Of course he likes you. He liked you the very first time he saw you.”
“Oh,” was all she said.
Together they got out of the car and moved up the sidewalk. From behind her big black sunglasses, Georgeanne watched him stand. He looked casual and at ease in a pair of beige twill pants, white T-shirt, and plaid dress shirt left unbuttoned and untucked. His dark hair had been cut shorter than the last time she’d seen him; the front fell in spikes over his forehead. His gaze was riveted on his daughter.
“Hey there, Lexie.”
She looked down at her clipboard, suddenly engrossed. “Hi.”
“What have you been up to since the last time I saw you?”
“Nothin‘.”
“How’s first grade?”
She wouldn’t look at him. “Okay.”
“Do you like your teacher?”