Chapter Six
Lexi
Despite Evelyn’s tongue lashing, I don’t regret a minute of sledding with Brady. I don’t know if it was the exhilaration of flying down a snowy mountain or the thrill of spending time with the dreamy-looking maintenance man, or both, that has me in this euphoric state.
Today, I’m meeting with one of the chefs that’s preparing a special Christmas meal at the inn. Chef Turner and his wife Harper have a cooking show on TV and I’m going to appear with them in their upcoming program called “Ho Ho Holiday Feast”. Harper agreed to meet me here at the inn to finalize the menu. I didn’t want to meet at a public location where someone might recognize me.
I stroll into the lobby at the designated meeting time and a pretty woman is chatting with the receptionist, Willow. When they spot me, the woman comes over to me. “Alexis, I’m Harper Turner. Nice to meet you!”
Harper instantly makes me feel comfortable with her friendly smile and warm handshake. “Nice to meet you as well. My friends all call me Lexi.”
She nods. “Lexi it is. Where would you like to review the menu?”
“No one is on the back patio. I can turn on the heaters and make sure you two have privacy for your meeting,” Willow offers.
“Let’s do that. Can we also get two mugs of hot chocolate?” I ask, then realize my presumptiveness. “Are you serving hot chocolate yet or are we too early?” I don’t want to repeat the awkward situation from yesterday when I demanded a cup be brought to my room.
“Cook will be happy to whip some up for both of you,” Willow says.
The pretty chef laughs. “That sounds wonderful.”
We follow Willow to the patio where she fires up the heaters and retreats to the kitchen to get the hot chocolate. With the heaters blasting hot air, the space becomes warm and toasty in a matter of minutes. Willow reappears to deliver two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. After she leaves, I ask Harper, “Is Willow pregnant? I thought I noticed a cute baby bump.”
A broad smile crosses Harper’s face. “Yes, she is and I’m so excited to become an aunt!”
I didn’t realize the two women were related, but that explains why they looked so friendly with each other.
Harper pulls out a paper from her bag. “I hope this menu is acceptable since we went back and forth several times. I want to make sure we’ve accounted for all your dietary restrictions,” Harper says as she glances at the paper.
Arching an eyebrow, I reply, “Dietary restrictions?”
Harper’s eyes fly to mine in confusion. “No gluten. Nothing high in trans fats or cholesterol. You won’t eat dairy, although you aren’t lactose intolerant, so we can cook with cream or butter, but not cheese. You avoid all fish and shellfish. . .”
Her voice trails off when I produce a loud, unladylike snort at all the restrictions she’s rattling off. The list reeks of Evelyn’s handiwork. “This is the first time I’ve heard any of this. I think my assistant was a little too zealous in her role as my food police.”
We both laugh.
“I bet you had the impression that I’m finicky and not easy to please, didn’t you?”
A pink blush tints Harper’s cheeks. “Um, well, I did think that you were rather particular in what you eat, but I can understand why.”
Harper’s politically correct reply amuses me. “When I’m in the middle of filming, I’m very restrictive as to what I eat. Just an ounce of bloat can be detected by the camera when I’m wearing one of those scanty outfits. But since I’m not shooting another picture until next month, I can live a little.”
“Let’s adjust the menu then,” Harper says with excitement as she slides the paper towards me. “A few tweaks here and there. I’d especially like you to try some of my cupcakes, but they won’t be gluten free.”
After I found out I’d be on the Turner’s show, I watched several of their episodes, as well as a few videos from Harper’s YouTube baking channel. “I’d love to try your cupcakes! Those mocha ones with avocado sound intriguing.”
“Done,” Harper says as she makes a note on her cell phone. “Anything else you’re dying to try?” she asks in a teasing voice.
I scan the menu and make a few suggestions. We discuss modifications to a couple of the side dishes. When we reach agreement on the altered menu, I add, “I’d love to learn how to bake. I’ve never done it before.” Biting my lip, I anxiously wait for Harper’s reply, wondering if she’d be gracious enough to teach me.
“Oh my! We need to change that immediately. Would you like to join me tomorrow morning at my bakery? I’ll be preparing eight different kinds of cupcakes.”
I clap my hands. “That would be wonderful. What time should I be there?”
Harper laughs. “I get there at 5 AM, but you can arrive any time before six to still get in on the baking.”
“I’ll be there at five. I don’t want to miss a minute of watching you bake.”
Smiling, Harper says in a teasing voice, “You’ll be helping me bake, not watching.”
“Thank you, Harper. I’d love to learn from an experienced baker like you.”
She nods. “Brady can walk you over.”
I wave my hand in a dismissive gesture. “Oh, he doesn’t have to do that. I can call one of my bodyguards to accompany me.”
Leaning in, Harper says in a low voice, “Have you seen Brady? I wouldn’t turn down having him accompany me.”
Giggling, I say, “I agree, but I’d hate to make him get up so early.”
Just as I spout out that comment, the hunky maintenance man strides onto the patio. His worn, tight blue jeans mold themselves perfectly to his muscular thighs and my heartrate jumps up several notches. Gulp!
He pauses when he sees us, hesitation written on his face. “Sorry to interrupt, I didn’t know anyone was back here.”
Harper grins. “You’re just in time Brady. Lexi needs someone to walk her over to the bakery tomorrow morning. Would you be available?” She addresses him as if they’re close friends.
“Sure. What time?” he asks, his question directed at both of us.
“Five,” Harper and I reply in unison. We giggle, then I quickly add, “Don’t feel obligated, I can call Rufus or Harold to escort me.”
Brady rolls his eyes. “I don’t think we need Kay or Jay for this mission. I’ll be happy to do it. See you at five tomorrow morning,” he says as he disappears back where he came from.
“See, he likes you,” Harper says. “No arm twisting necessary,” she adds with a wink.
I shrug. There’s no denying the attractiveness of the handsome maintenance man. I’m already looking forward to seeing him again tomorrow.
~*~
The script for my new movie arrives via FedEx shortly after my meeting with Harper. Evelyn insists that I study it immediately. After her reaction to my sledding excursion yesterday, I don’t dare argue with her. No need to get another upbraiding from the bossy red head.
My process for studying a script has evolved over the years. I mark-up my lines with colored highlighters so I can memorize them easier. The different colors denote the situation—yellow for a humorous scene, pink for one with danger, green for casual dialogue, and blue for a sad or emotional scene which evokes tears.
When I first started acting, I hated scenes where I had to cry. Trying to conjure up that emotion on demand didn’t come easily for me. In fact, a director commented one time that my crying was as bad as some of the most awkward and lambasted crying scenes ever captured on film. Then he listed his favorites in excruciating detail. Ouch.
After that criticism, I sought out an acting teacher who could teach me to cry on demand. She taught me how to imagine a time in my real life that brought me to tears and focus on that. Unfortunately, several memories involving my mom come to mind. Now when I have a sad scene that requires tears, I practice it by myself, over and over, until I get it perfect. Even though this is a cheesy movie, there’s two scenes that require me to cry, so I rehearse them first.
Knock! Knock!