“You know, there’s already an Oscar buzz about my performance in
While they broke for a commercial break, they brought in the kitchen setup, and CeeCee and Barbara got ready for the cooking demonstration.
“You can tell us about your movie while you show off your recipe,” Barbara said after they were back on the air. I watched nervously as CeeCee put on her apron and stepped up to the counter and the array of ingredients.
“This is an old Collins’ family recipe,” she said. She glanced over the ingredients and I held my breath, afraid she was going to dump the cinnamon again. If I ever doubted CeeCee’s acting ability, I didn’t anymore. I believed it was an old family recipe. She showed off the pan that was already lined with sliced apples and raisins. She measured the sugar and cinnamon and then sprinkled the mixture over the apples. Then, as if she’d been doing it all her life, she dropped the hunks of butter in the flour and used a pastry blender to mix it in. She did just enough to show how to do it. They had another bowl with the butter already cut into the flour, and she just had to add the brown sugar, oatmeal and walnuts. She poured the contents over the pan of apples, telling the audience to be sure to spread it evenly. Forget the movie, she deserved an Academy Award for this. I felt my breath release when she put it in the fake oven. They already had a finished version off to the side, which they now brought in. Apparently, they’d cut corners, and instead of having her make the whipped cream, they just had a can.
“Well, tell us about your movie. And what it feels like to be thinking about an Academy Award,” Barbara said. “Vampires are everywhere. And now there’s one who knits.”
Adele was out of her seat before I could stop her. “He crochets,” Adele said in an indignant tone. CeeCee’s eyes flew up at the comment and she looked directly at me. I pulled Adele back in her seat as the talk show host chuckled and tried to cover the awkward moment. “Knit, crochet? What’s the difference? They both use yarn.”
The pink pom-poms on Adele’s hats were jiggling big time now. Her face was red and she seemed to be trying to restrain herself. Her hand shot up in the air. No one came with a microphone and I tried to pull her arm down and told her between gritted teeth that they weren’t taking questions now.
Suddenly, she couldn’t hold back anymore and jumped out of her seat again and started waving a plastic size P crochet hook. The fact that it looked like a minibaseball bat and was bright turquoise made it hard to miss. Adele glanced around her and tugged at me to stand with her.
“Crocheters unite,” she cried. “We will not be the stepsisters of knitting anymore.” She turned squarely toward the talk show host. “And crochet and knitting are not the same.”
CeeCee looked away from us and began to talk quickly about her movie and how wonderful it had been to work with Hugh Jackman.
A serious-looking woman with a Martha Stewart hairstyle and a headset appeared out of nowhere and grabbed Adele’s arm and started to pull her toward the exit. Adele wasn’t going to go easily. She clamped onto my arm, and the next thing I knew, she was dragging me along.
Adele might try to annoy me by calling me by my last name and slinging barbs at me all the time, but the minute there was trouble, I became her best friend. Before I could blink, we were going through the studio doors. I thought the woman was going to take us right to the street exit, but instead she led us to the audience waiting room and ordered us to sit. I had a sinking feeling. What if she was detaining us until the cops could get there?
It turned out to be much more mundane than that. They’d collected our stuff when we came in and there was no way to give it back during the show, so we had to wait around until the show finished.
“I don’t understand what the fuss was about. I was merely trying to correct Barbara,” Adele said. I rolled my eyes. Typical Adele. She never seemed to grasp the results of her behavior.
There was basically nothing to do but look at the photos of Barbara with assorted famous people that adorned the walls while we waited for the show to end. Adele took out the giant hook and a ball of purple yarn she’d kept in her pocket and began to crochet a loopy flower.
The woman who’d brought us in had sat down in one of the chairs and eyed us with a sour look. There was an air of authority about her, and I heard her talking into her headset, saying something about having better things to do than babysit a couple of troublemakers.
A door marked “Staff Only” opened and CeeCee’s niece Nell walked in carrying one of those cardboard drink holders with one lidded coffee cup in it. She seemed disconcerted and her gaze went right to our babysitter. “There you are.”
“I suppose it’s cold by now,” the woman said, reaching for the cup. “Such a simple job of getting me a hot latte and you can’t seem to manage it. Did you think because your aunt was doing the show, you could slough off?”
Nell’s face clouded and she seemed to be trying to restrain herself but lost the battle.
“Today at work is just like any other day to me, Robyn. The only reason I went into Ms. Collins’ dressing room was to tell her it was time to go on,” she sputtered. “And how was I supposed to know you’d be in here. You’re never in the audience pretaping room during the show,” Nell said, defiantly. I began to figure that Robyn was the woman Nell had been talking about to her aunt.
Robyn eyed her darkly. “Not that I have to explain anything to you, but our audience usually behaves. But these two,” she said, gesturing toward us. I belatedly realized that by coming with Adele, I was considered as naughty as she was.
For the first time, Nell looked at Adele and me long enough to register our identities. I suppose Nell thought she was already in enough trouble with Robyn and didn’t need the added burden of admitting that she knew us because she regarded us as if we were complete strangers. I had to nudge Adele and give her my best impression of CeeCee’s cease-and-desist look to keep her from saying anything.
No wonder Nell had been crying on her aunt’s shoulder about this woman. I was sure if she made this much of an issue about a possibly lukewarm latte, she was just looking to hassle Nell.
Finally Robyn took the coffee cup from the holder and looked at the empty spots around it. “Did you forget my sweetener?”
Nell appeared flustered and embarrassed as she rushed out through the door.
Robyn’s mouth seemed stuck in an angry expression, and I thought of telling her that being so upset wasn’t good for her health, but reconsidered, realizing she would probably just get angrier at the comment. She leaned back in the hard chair, pulled out her iPhone and began flipping through things. Adele had taken to staring at her and I was going to nudge her to try to get her to stop, but Adele spoke first.
“I knew you looked familiar. I’ve seen you in the cafe of Shedd and Royal.”
The woman barely nodded and Adele continued. “You know I could probably get you some coupons for free lattes. Bob would make sure they were hot.” Adele leaned closer and held up the rows of double crochets hanging off her hook. “I scratch your back. You scratch mine.” She punctuated it with a wink. “You’d be doing your boss a favor by putting on a show dedicated to crochet. She bites her nails, she’s always trying some new diet, and I heard her say she wanted to learn how to meditate.” Adele held the hook higher, and the stitched yarn swung back and forth. “All the answers are right before your eyes.”
Robyn responded with a dismissive shrug and a roll of her eyes. Adele got that crazed look again and I had to restrain her. Luckily Nell’s return distracted Adele. Nell took something out of her denim shirt pocket. I hadn’t noticed before, but there was a tiny darker blue motif made out of crochet thread sewn onto the pocket. CeeCee must have made it for her.
Robyn snatched the packet with an impatient groan and added the contents to her cup. She gave the drink a quick stir and picked it up.
I didn’t realize it at first, but I was already cringing, expecting some kind of outburst since the coffee drink couldn’t possibly still be hot.
Robyn put the drink to her lips and finally drank some. She appeared hostile as she turned to Nell. “It’s cold,” Robyn barked as she pushed the cup toward Nell. “Go and get me . . .” Her voice trailed off as the cup fell from her hand. It hit the floor and splattered, making a large beige puddle on the charcoal gray carpet. When I looked up, I was shocked to see foam coming out of Robyn’s mouth, and then she began to convulse.
Nell seemed frozen in her spot as the producer fell forward out of the chair and onto the floor.
