“…AND I HOPE very much that Daddy will not make me eat dinner because I am too full…” Tabitha’s big brown eyes, only slightly accented by stage makeup, were solemnly serious as her face covered Natasha’s television monitor.
During the taping of Tabitha’s tasting, she’d asked the little girl what she wanted most in the world, an interview question she’d used many times to give her viewers a sense of connection with the young judges.
She, Angela and Damon, her top video editor, were piecing together the day’s show in a makeshift sound room set up in the back corner of the Family Secrets barn on Longfellow Ranch. The quick turn from taping to on-air was something they had down to a science in their Palm Desert studio.
And the aspect she’d worried about the most when they’d made the decision to take the show on location.
It was now something they were going to have to get used to, to meet the contingencies of the new contract she’d signed Friday morning before heading to the ranch. Three-quarters of their shows would now be done this way if she was going to continue to have a firsthand part in the process.
They would put the footage in their cloud, accessible by a crew in the Palm Desert studio who could produce the final show.
She wasn’t ready to give up control of that process.
The edits, the choices of what to include and what to delete from the show—that was the art of what they did. Those choices defined the entire viewing experience of the show. Defined the show itself.
“I want this shot,” she said, sitting back for Damon to take note of the Tabitha frames she’d highlighted.
Spencer and the kids had left a couple of hours ago. She’d seen them walk out together. And then she’d gone to work.
Which was as it should be.
As she wanted it to be.
So why, when she left the barn studio that evening and saw a pickup pull into the lot, saw a woman get out and approach the big house, did she suddenly feel bereft?
* * *
HE’D HAD THE idea to invite Jolene to watch the show with them about halfway through the taping. Pretty much right after Natasha had asked him what he thought about Miss Rodeo Kentucky, if he recalled it right.
So certain that it was the right course of action, he’d actually slipped off stage during the second half of the show, just long enough to make a call and put the plan into motion.
That was him—the man who put plans into motion.
Because what he didn’t do didn’t get done. It wasn’t like Spencer had anyone else to rely on to take care of his business.
Or the kids’ business.
Other than paid employees, that is. And they weren’t responsible for or involved in family affairs.
Bryant and Betsy came close. But on holidays, they were with their own families.
No, when it came to family, it was just him. Making a family for his children so they wouldn’t grow up to be thirty, almost all alone in the world.
And while the evening could be deemed a success—Tabitha and Justin talked to Jolene when she spoke to them—he felt, as he tucked them into bed half an hour late so they could stay up and watch the show, that he’d somehow let them down.
Or let someone down.
Shaking off the unusual pessimism, he went back downstairs to play guitar with a woman who was never going to be more than a friend to him. She’d just told him so, in so many words. The spark wasn’t there. But she enjoyed her time with him. And would like to continue to see him.
Sometimes the best marriages were ones between friends. Or so he hoped.
If there were no false expectations, there would be no crushing disappointment, either.
His plan would work. Maybe with Jolene. Maybe not. But it would work.
Before he went to bed that night, he read the online profile that had been sent to him. He didn’t respond. But remained hopeful that there would be others.
Just in case.
* * *
NATASHA LEFT THE ranch Saturday night. She’d packed clothes for Sunday. Had figured she’d see the kids in the morning, as both had mentioned that they’d gone looking for her before breakfast the week before.
The white pickup truck in the drive Saturday night had changed her mind.
Not that it bothered her. She just didn’t want to intrude.
As Spencer had tried to tell her, his kids needed stability. Someone they could bond with, who would be around all of the time for them.
She was the great-aunt. There for a minute and then gone.
Still, as she worked all day Sunday and then started her week, she felt…incomplete. As though she’d left something important undone.
She hadn’t. She knew that. And pressed forward. The times she thought about calling Spencer Longfellow, even going so far as to make up a business excuse to justify contacting him, she didn’t do so. Instead, she talked to Lily. When she was home with the kitten. And talked to Angela at work.
About work. With a new year coming and two other off-site studios to create, she had more than enough to do. By Tuesday she and Angela had flights to six different cities in six different states scheduled for the month after the ranch segment finished.
They were starting off in places with television studios that already had kitchens in place. New York. Nashville. Orlando. New Orleans. Chicago. And, interestingly enough, Anchorage, Alaska. A lot of local stations hosted cooking shows. Family Secrets would just have to expand sets from one kitchen to eight.
Or…as they had at Longfellow Ranch, they could build their own set. But only if the space was one they could use for multiple years.
Tuesday afternoon, she met with her accountant. And then her lawyers. She had paperwork drawn up for a four-year contract with Longfellow Ranch to the specifications she and Spencer had discussed. The contract she’d signed with the studio was for four years. It was good business to keep things simple.
And Wednesday morning, when normally she would have been at the studio, she left Angela to manage Family Secrets business, got in her SUV and drove out to the ranch. If Spencer wasn’t there she could leave the contract for him—give him time to have it vetted by his own lawyers, then sign it and have it notarized, so she could take it back to the city with her that weekend.
She could have mailed it. He could deliver it to her by return mail. But she wanted to look over the studio. She’d had it designed by an architectural firm that specialized in professional kitchens, but they’d cut corners, thinking that the space would be used for only six weeks. Most of the equipment was there on lease.
If they were going to make the arrangement permanent, she’d need changes. And wanted a chance to look things over herself, in complete quiet, before engaging in the rounds of meetings that would need to take place before any work could begin.
After the current segment, of course.
But with the amount of time these things took, she couldn’t get started too soon.
She thought about calling Spencer—several times—as she drove. Even picked up her phone when she reached the little town closest to his ranch.
Instead, she found herself searching for a white pickup truck. With Longfellow Ranch mud on its tires.
As if she’d ever be able to distinguish that.
She didn’t need to see Spencer. If she called, he’d think he had to stop what he was doing and come find her.
By their current agreement, she had rights to the studio barn at all times during the six weeks she’d rented it. She’d go straight there.
And if she saw him, she saw him.
If not, she’d leave the contract at the front door. Or maybe with Betsy…
She could always mail it from town…
Longfellow Ranch came into view before she’d made her final decision on what she’d do with the contract if she didn’t see Spencer. Turning in to the main drive, she felt confident that her normal work attire of pants, pumps and contoured blouse would attest to the fact that she wasn’t planning to spend time with a rancher on a ranch. That she was there as part of a regular workday.
About to take the turn that would lead her directly down to the studio barn, rather than driving the long way that would first take her by the ranch house, she changed her mind at the last minute.
Was that a town car at the main house? The vehicle was definitely black. And expensive-looking. Hoping there was nothing wrong, she drove slowly past. Thought about stopping in with the contract, but didn’t.
If there was a problem at hand that she needed to know about, she or Angela would get a call.
On their business line.
She spent an hour at the studio, roaming around, getting the feel of the space, trying to focus and “flow,” before she admitted to herself that she was there to see Spencer. Just to get him to sign the contract.
Once that was done, she could relax. A quarter of the next four years, one of the three location segments for each year, would be in the bag. Just having one down would be huge. She could relax, take the changes in stride.
Get back on her game.
Besides, she had a dinner meeting with her senior crew that evening. To discuss the upcoming format and travel changes that would be going into effect after the first of the year. She’d like to be able to tell them that they had one permanent location already locked in—one that wouldn’t require them to be away from their families as much as others. She hoped everyone would be on board and able to stay with her, but if not, she needed to know as soon as possible.
No longer pretending that she was just as happy to leave Spencer’s contract with Betsy, or at the house, she locked up the studio—without having taken a single note—and headed back up toward the house.
What she’d do if the black car was still there, she hadn’t yet decided. But figured she’d at least give a knock on Spencer’s front door.
As it happened, a woman came out of the house, followed by Spencer, just as she pulled up. Slender. Well dressed. Refined. The dark-haired woman was in pumps and a navy suit and looked older than Spencer.
But who was she to judge? A lot of young guys went for older women these days…
The woman didn’t look happy.
Natasha couldn’t imagine Spencer being at fault for that.
Stopping, she saw his head turn toward her. And though she acknowledged even in the moment that she’d probably imagined it, she thought his expression showed…delight. Before he hid it.
The other woman got in her car, started it and was already backing around to drive out by the time Natasha had parked.
Spencer met her halfway to his front door. She glanced at the expensive black car leaving dust in its tracks. “An unhappy customer?” she asked.
It was none of her business.
But she paid attention when he shook his head. Paid attention to the frown he was wearing, as well.
Probably for her as much as the woman who’d just left.
“I came to bring you this,” she said, handing him the envelope she’d pulled out of her satchel before leaving the SUV. “Have your lawyer take a look, sign it when you’re ready and we’ll be good to go.”
She wasn’t going to ask if he’d changed his mind. Didn’t want to give him an easy out. She also knew him well enough to understand that he’d have no problem informing her if he had.
He took the envelope. Didn’t open it. But slid it under his arm. As though he meant to do something with it. She took that as a good sign.
“I…was just out looking at the space,” she said when he made no move to walk with her to the house. To invite her in. “As soon as the current segment is done, I’d like to have the architectural firm begin work on a more permanent set, with an eye possibly to designing other sites for me, as well. I’d like to keep the sets as similar as possible…”
She was babbling. So not her.
He nodded. Still frowning. Still not going in. But not walking away, either.
“What’s wrong?” She was only a business associate. It wasn’t her place to ask. But it was obvious he was bothered. And she wanted to help if she could.
He had the option to shoo her away.
Shaking his head a second time, he looked at Natasha. And kept looking.