didn’t help that she wasn’t facing the group, but instead was admiring the movie poster propped on a chair. It featured a photo of Hugh Jackman with just the hint of fangs, holding a crochet hook. The title,
“I just think they ought to have you and Hugh on together. Maybe you could both crochet something.” Even before the movie, Elise had been enamored with the series of books featuring Anthony, the urbane, handsome vampire who’d learned to control his lust for blood by crocheting and was now trying to use his immortality to help mankind and also snag his love interest. She wasn’t the only one to love the series. It was still a huge seller at Shedd & Royal Books and More where I worked. Elise had just been a little more over the top than the rest of us.
“I see your point,” CeeCee said, taking one of the apple slices out of the pan and dipping it in some sugar before eating it. “You’d think since I had such a great comeback-kid story and there was already Oscar buzz for me and the movie is barely out, that I’d have carte blanche to do what I want.”
My late husband, Charlie, had worked in public relations and I’d helped out with his business, so I knew a bit about how things went. Barbara Olive Overton was the top talk show host. In the scheme of things, she trumped CeeCee in importance, so if she wanted CeeCee to cook, it was that or nothing.
Adele saw her opening and went for it. She leaned her beanie-covered head toward CeeCee. As usual, she’d gotten a little carried away with crochet. The hat was so covered with flowers, it made her head look like it had lumps on top.
“We have to do something. The knitters”—Adele interrupted herself with a harrumph sound as she threw up her hands in frustration—“have all kinds of people. I read that Sandra Bullock keeps calm by knitting, and Julia Roberts knits. Even Russell Crowe. And the list goes on and on. Just think if you could teach Barbara how to crochet on the show. I’m telling you, we need more celebrity crocheters. All we have is Vanna White,” Adele said.
“Excuse me,” CeeCee interjected.
“Right, we have you, too,” Adele said. “But we need more. We need someone big and splashy.”
Nell Collins, CeeCee’s niece, came in at the end of the interchange and stopped in the doorway. Adele saw her and her face lit up.
“Can’t you do something about getting your aunt to do a crochet demonstration on the talk show? You work on it, don’t you?”
Nell looked like a much younger version of her aunt. Only the brown of her long hair was all natural. She had come out from Ohio a few months ago with the idea of getting into the entertainment industry and was staying with CeeCee. But unlike her aunt, Nell was really interested in working on the production end rather than in front of the camera. She laughed at Adele’s comment. “I’m a production assistant, which basically means I’m a gofer. I already get a lot of grief because some people think Aunt CeeCee got me the job, so I try not to bring up any connection.” Nell sighed. “But I think I know why they didn’t want you to teach Barbara how to crochet. I heard one of the segment producers has a show coming up in a few weeks with some celebrity knitters, and they’re going to teach Barbara how to work her needles on the show. Everybody knows about Barbara’s battle with her weight, nail biting and general anxiety. The knitters claim to have a cure-all for that.”
Adele jumped up at the word knitters. We all understood Adele had her reasons for seeing it as being the crocheters versus the knitters. It went back to a Cinderella-type stepmother and stepsisters who were all aggressive knitters who shamed Adele about her yarn hobby. We all loved crochet but weren’t as reactionary as Adele. Still, this time I could see her point. It irked me that the knitters were getting a platform on the show but the crocheters weren’t.
“I’m telling you that host needs a crochet intervention. She’s always going on about her weight problems and her nail biting. Knitting isn’t going to help that. All those clacking needles will just make her more nervous,” Adele said.
Sheila Altman said, “Hear, hear” from the corner. If anyone knew about the therapeutic aspect of crochet, it was her. Sheila had sensitive nerves and she’d learned to handle her anxiety attacks with crochet. In fact, this whole discussion seemed to have stirred things up for her, and I noticed she’d taken out a hook and string she always carried. She didn’t even have to look as she made a bunch of chains and went back over them with single crochet stitches.
“Ladies, we’re getting off track here,” Dinah Lyons said. Along with being a fellow hooker, she was my best friend. She taught English at a community college to reluctant students and knew how to keep things on subject. “The show is tomorrow and CeeCee needs to get this recipe down cold.” Dinah bristled with energy as she looked over the setup. She added numbers to the labels on the small bowls, showing the order they should be used. I wrote out a list of steps and put it next to the large bowl. It still took a few more tries before CeeCee ended up with a pan of apple slices correctly covered with the bumble-crumble topping. This time, she put it in the real oven—with us looking on to make sure she did it right. It came out smelling delicious. We all congratulated CeeCee on her success at cooking, and she triumphantly put some on plates for all of us.
“It seems a little plain,” CeeCee said, looking at the serving she’d taken for herself. “Can’t we jazz it up a little. How about whipped cream?”
CeeCee was astonished to hear there was a way to make it besides squirting it out of a can. I made a fast grocery store run and came back with some heavy cream. Luckily I got several containers, knowing CeeCee was likely to have a problem. She went wild with the hand mixer and ended up turning the first attempt into butter.
“Dear, this is fascinating,” she said, taking a taste of her creation and deciding it would be tasty on scones. She went slower with the next batch and stopped when it was still whipped cream. CeeCee added a dollop to each of our plates, and we all dug in. “This is wonderful. I can’t believe I actually made it,” she said, punctuating her comment with her musical laugh.
As we ate, she took the list of steps I’d written out and said she’d make a cheat sheet on her hand for the show. She’d call her agent to make sure they wrote the ingredients on the bowls and to make sure they had whipping cream and a mixer.
The baking smells must have wafted through the house because I heard CeeCee’s two Yorkies barking and scratching from the service porch where she’d put them to keep them out of the way.
“I appreciate that you all want to come to the taping and give me moral support, but its really not necessary,” CeeCee said. I knew what CeeCee was really saying was that she didn’t want the group to come. Not that they got it. Everyone insisted it was no problem and was thrilled when Nell started to hand out the tickets.
“Getting these is the only real thing I’ve done,” Nell said as she gave the last one out. Right after that, everyone took off. Even Dinah, which surprised me. My friend usually hung around until I left. I couldn’t help but wonder what was up with that.
I hadn’t been sure what kitchen equipment CeeCee had, so I’d brought the ingredients, bowls and pan. I took everything in the kitchen and started to wash the dishes. CeeCee said I could have left them for her housekeeper to deal with in the morning, but I felt funny about giving her extra work.
When everything was clean and packed up, I passed through the dining room and heard voices coming from the living room, and the tone sounded like somebody was unhappy. I peeked in the living room with the idea of saying good-bye. Nell and her aunt were sitting on the sofa, and the younger woman’s face was twisted in frustration. It didn’t seem right to interrupt, so before they saw me, I backed out of sight.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do. Robyn is on my case all the time. She keeps bringing up that I got the job because of my connection to you, or as she puts it, I took the easy way, while she got in all on her own.” Nell slumped farther. “She screwed something up and then made me take the blame. It’s just so unfair. My life would be so much simpler if she was out of the way.”
CeeCee seemed at a loss for suggestions and uncertain about how to comfort her niece. She started to put her arm around Nell, then took it back. Finally, she sighed. “I didn’t get the job for you. I made some calls and my agent got you the interview. You got the job on your own merit.”
Poor Nell. She was just out of college, where there was some effort to keep things fair, and she was getting her first taste of the unfairness of the world. Apparently, CeeCee was thinking the same thing. She told the girl she’d just have to deal with the woman who was causing all the problems. There was no magic cure.
If anybody knew about things not being fair, it was CeeCee. When her dentist-husband died, she found out he’d lost all their money and she had to start over. CeeCee might be a little self-absorbed at times, but she wasn’t
