Just Add Spice

Eventually, she stepped around him, said goodbye to everyone and preceded Tad out the door. Unfortunately, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was back to square one with Rafe. Were they forever destined to be two ships passing in the night?

* * *

Jenna and Tad settled into their first class seats and she stared out the window while Tad sipped orange juice next to her.

“This really ought to be a mimosa,” he commented.

“It’s five a.m., Tad.”

“Well, it’s eight o’clock in New York, and that is a universally acceptable hour for a mimosa.”

“Fine. Ask the flight attendant for champagne. You deserve it. Besides, we’re not officially working today. I’m meeting my agent.”

He was quiet a moment, then asked, “Do you think I should get one? An agent? Yours helped to negotiate my contract with the network, but maybe it’s time I seek my own representation.”

“I’ve only been telling you that for the past few years. You’ve passed up several endorsement pitches. I’ve never for the life of me figured out why.”

“Do I want to be that famous?” he pondered in a contemplative tone. “I like the notoriety and the perks, don’t get me wrong. And I love when people ask for my autograph. But do I want to be swarmed the way you sometimes are?”

“You didn’t seem to mind the way Rafe’s family fawned over you.”

“That’s different, sugar plum. They’re family. Fans can be…a little scary.”

“Not mine. Let’s be honest, Tad. We’re not rock stars or movie stars. Nothing of the like. When I’m swarmed, it’s generally because people have specific questions about their own projects, and they’d like my opinion. Which I am more than happy to give, if I can help them out.”

“But you also like doing endorsements and the fame that comes from that.”

She considered this. Turning from the window, she pinned him with a look and asked, “Remember those journals I said I kept? The ones Linney thought were futile?”

“Yes.” He sipped. “I think they were a good idea.”

“I do too. Though, after the first time Linney mentioned to me how worthless they were, I got to thinking about her stance on them… I was trying to remember everyone I met, but do they remember you, Jen? was her point.”

“Oh, dear,” he said on a sigh.

“Yeah, I know. This might be headed in a dismal direction.”

Jenna sipped her own juice, then continued. “I started wondering if Mr. Carson in Canton, Ohio would ever think of the girl who sat in a dark corner of his restaurant rolling silverware in napkins for a few bucks a day. Or if Senorita Gonzales in Albuquerque, New Mexico would remember me busing tables for her at the end of the night. Or if Mr. Dawson in El Mirage, California recalled the kid who hand-shredded the romaine for the salads his deli was renowned for. I learned all about kitchen prep work from him.”

“You’ve met a lot of people in your lifetime.”

“Mr. Miyanaga taught me to roll sushi. Monsieur LaVallier showed me how to bake the perfect lemon Madeleines—the secret is in chilling the dough for an hour before you spoon it into the molds. He also demonstrated the fine art of cooking duck breast with a cranberry-grape reduction that’s to die for. And there were so many others. Lots of people who taught

me about décor and artwork and furniture—the reason I can pull a dining room together once I’ve captured the restaurant’s personality in my mind.”

“You watch, listen and learn.”

“Yes,” she said, emotion fringing her voice. “And beyond that, I remember. I don’t even need the journals to recall all of these names and what I gleaned from each person I spent time with for a few days, a few weeks, whatever.”

Tad asked, “Did you start your blogs with the intent of being immortalized, because you were afraid no one would remember you?”

“I needed some sort of evidence that I existed.” She fought the sting at the backs of her eyes. “I flitted in and out of people’s lives. Did I ever make an impression? Did I leave them to wonder what became of me?”

He waited for her to continue.

Jenna confessed, “When I heard from Senorita Gonzales via a comment on my first blog, when I was eighteen, I realized that being known in this life is important to me. I don’t want to be just someone who passed through a thousand people’s lives. That girl whose name they can’t recall, whose face they can’t quite place. I don’t have a lifelong friend who calls to say, hey, remember that crazy shit we did in junior high?”

She flagged down the flight attendant as she made her pass through the cabin and asked for mimosas.