“Scottie suggested I take two or three large bottles of water. How am I supposed to transport them there?” Marla asked Kitty once she’d finished her yogurt.
Kitty nodded, now understanding. “How about I help you if you help me first?”
“Always the negotiator. What do you need from me?”
“Even though you’ve become a big television star, before that, before you left for Broadway, you were a pretty good baker. Chocolate chip cookies, especially, but you could also make a mean pie crust. Teach me how to do the same.”
Her sister’s request surprised her. “I thought you said you were asked to judge the pie baking, not make one yourself.”
“I was and I will, but I have no idea what to judge. I thought if I witnessed the entire process beforehand, I might have a fighting chance knowing what to evaluate.”
Marla tried to recall the last time she’d baked a pie but couldn’t. Perhaps in an attempt to impress her new husband when she and Carson were first married? Otherwise, her last pie had to have been produced while she was still living at home here in Minnesota with their parents.
“I’d like to help you, Kitty, but it’s been years since I’ve baked a pie. I’m afraid I’d spend so much time trying to recall Grandma’s crust recipe, my process wouldn’t be at all helpful.”
“I’ll even go with you to the grocery store to pick up the ingredients.”
“Thanks, but having the right ingredients is just the beginning. I have no idea what happened to my old recipe. I got so busy with my acting career shortly after Carson and I were together, we hired a housekeeper who prepared our meals, and I stopped cooking and baking.”
“No problem. I’ll go online and find several for you to choose from,” Kitty said.
“Isn’t there someone else in the building you could ask for help? Maybe Kaitlin Fargo or Rita Haley? They owe us for clearing their names in the Elliot murder.”
“They’re appreciative and relieved that you and Rex Alcorn discovered the real killer, but they’re also still waiting to get the money back that they invested with that scam artist.”
“Surely they don’t hold Rex and me accountable for the amount of time it’s taking to work through all the red tape involved with the restitution process?” Both women had been foolish enough to give the late con man several thousand dollars of their money. She and Rex had discovered the numbers, which a state code breaker had tracked down to the right account. But until the two victims got their money back, they weren’t completely satisfied.
“Forget about them. Why should I look elsewhere when I’ve got the real deal living here in my condo?” Another thought occurred to her. “Besides, other than lying around all day, what have you been doing since you solved that murder?”
Now she was playing dirty. Kitty had been the one to urge Marla to take it easy for a bit while she came down from the high level of tension she’d experienced facing a killer. “It just looks like I’ve been lazing around. My body and mind and spirit have been regrouping.”
“Fine. Using your hands to roll out a crust and preparing the filling will be great therapy.”
Kitty wasn’t about to drop this idea. There was no recourse but to give in, but Marla wanted to get something out of it for herself besides recharging her culinary skills. “This needs to be a fair exchange. Suggesting how I lug that water to the court doesn’t stack up against baking a pie, especially when I haven’t made one in years.”
Kitty opened her mouth to protest but immediately closed it. “What would you consider a fair exchange?”
That was a stumper. Why had she even mentioned it? What favor could Kitty do for her? What she needed most was a new part. Kitty couldn’t help her there.
Before Marla could think of something, Kitty came up with an idea of her own. “Why don’t you do your own podcast?”
“Me? Do a podcast?”
“It’s a perfect idea, despite the fact that it was Rex who first suggested it when you were investigating the murder. It would be something to fill your time while you’re reevaluating your career.”
Although she didn’t exactly reject the idea, Marla couldn’t see how it would fit into her current state of unemployment. “What would I do in a podcast?”
Kitty shrugged. “That’s up to you, but think about it. It’d be one way you could keep your name in front of the public while you’re waiting for a new project to come along. If it generated enough subscribers, you might even earn a few bucks.”
“Perhaps I could use it as a vehicle to showcase my acting chops?”
“I guess. It would have to be your speaking chops, though. Podcasts are about audio.”
“Audio? I was thinking more about being seen. Isn’t there some way to do that?”
Kitty considered. “Yes, although my knowledge of that technology is even more limited than it is with podcasts. Are you familiar with YouTube? It’s one of the best known sources of videocasting. There are others. I’m just not familiar with them. If that’s the direction you want to go, do some Internet research. Or talk to Rex. From what Tom Casey has told me, he and Rex have been playing around with producing their own video.”
“Rex doing his own video? That doesn’t sound like him,” Marla replied. Did she really want to ask Rex for help so soon after he’d helped her with the investigation? He hadn’t been particularly excited about working with her at first, although by the time they were confronting the killer together, they’d developed a certain working relationship.
“I think I recall Tom telling me he would be the one in front of the camera and Rex would be behind the scenes. Tom told me Rex was helping him get started. Since you made that face when I mentioned Rex, maybe you could ask Tom for help instead.”
“I still don’t know what I’d do in a podcast or a … a … what did you call it? Videocasting?”
Kitty’s eyes brightened. “You could do one on baking an apple pie. Kill two birds with one pie, so to speak; demonstrate pie baking to me on video.”
Kitty’s mind was still on her own situation even though she was attempting to make it sound like she was helping Marla.
Tom Casey had been the one who finally got Marla to come back to Minnesota. Kitty had given up asking her to return after Marla spent several months feeling sorry for herself following being let go from Carruthers. To get her to return, Tom told her Kitty had been acting so erratic she needed her sister to get her back on course. As it turned out, that had been a ruse worked out between Kitty and Tom when Kitty decided her invitation alone wouldn’t bring her sister home.
Tom Casey also had a tough case of unrequited love for Kitty. He’d more or less admitted as much to Marla when she first arrived, but unlike every other man with whom Kitty came in contact, he wasn’t about to put himself on the line and show her how much he cared.
“Tom Casey doesn’t strike me as the type who puts himself out there on a video.” What little contact she’d had with the man suggested the shy, comfy teddy bear type.
“It surprised me, too, when I learned he’d been investing in video equipment. So far, he’s been supporting others’ attempts to produce their own videos,” Kitty said. “I’m not sure he’ll ever do his own. Tom seems to be one of those people who drift from one idea to another.”
Interesting observation from one who appeared to be doing the same. On the other hand, maybe it took one to recognize one. Like Kitty, Tom might be trying to “find” himself. Not the self-discovery sort of thing they’d gone through in their middle years but a new, senior form of it. In truth, she was probably going through her own version as she struggled to adapt to her newfound freedom.
“Okay,” she said before she let herself think too much about all the drawbacks of doing a video. Although she wasn’t familiar with how either of these media worked, she’d heard that many celebrities had turned to them as a way of staying in touch with their audiences.
Maybe she could do something that touched a bit on her private life without getting too “private.” Even though it had been eons since she’d baked an apple pie, wouldn’t it be like riding a bike after several years, something your brain and muscles remembered without much effort?
“Okay, let’s try it. See if Tom’s available tomorrow. Today I want to bake a test pie minus the camera and mic, just to be sure it all comes back to me.”
“Next, we, uh …” Marla had just combined the requisite amount of flour and salt in a medium-size bowl, and suddenly she couldn’t remember what came next. “I’m sorry, Tom. Can you pause things while I check my recipe?”
“Sure, Marla,” Tom Casey replied, his large brown eyes friendly and helpful. Such a puppy dog, with his graying ginger hair in need of a trim. “But just remember,” he continued, “once you’re doing this for real, it’ll work best if you just keep going. We can always stop and edit later, but you run the risk of losing the spontaneity of the shoot if you keep stopping. Which is what is so appealing about videocasting.”
What was wrong with her? Yesterday afternoon, even with Kitty sitting across from her taking notes, she’d made the crust and then the filling almost flawlessly. She’d only stopped once when some of the filling missed the pie plate and landed on the floor. Now, she couldn’t even remember what went into the crust.
She was used to working in front of cameras. Several at the same time. Why was Tom’s one camera causing her to forget what she was doing?
They tried it again, picking up where she’d left off once she’d consulted the recipe. The next item was the shortening. Her grandmother had taught her and Kitty to use solid shortening. Times had changed, and the type of shortening she’d selected now contained less trans fat in its makeup. Though the pie she’d made the day before had been tasty, with even Kitty approving of it, it still didn’t taste quite the same as Grandma’s pie crusts. Was that the different formula or just the fact she was no longer a kid, more easily impressed with her elder’s cooking? Was that what was making her focus off-kilter?
Whatever the reason, the shortening was not blending with the flour combination the way it should. Tom had told her to keep going, but it was making her crazy that she couldn’t get the flour and shortening to combine into the little pea-size shapes she was expecting.
After they’d stopped four more times, Tom called a break.
“I’m sorry, Tom. This didn’t happen yesterday, and I’ve gone about this today exactly like I did then.”
“You were doing it for yourself yesterday,” Tom said helpfully. “Today you’re too much aware of the camera. It seems to be affecting your rhythm.”
“That’s just the thing. I’m used to performing for the camera. And for an audience, with the production crew and other actors watching. I’ve never felt this tense before.”
Tom drew in his lips, apparently at a loss how else to help.
“Why don’t we take a fifteen-minute break and start over?” Kitty said. Remarkably, she’d been quiet all this time, remaining in the background behind Tom. “All new ingredients.”
Marla wasn’t convinced either the break or starting over would save this video, but she agreed to give it a try.
She left Tom and Kitty to discuss how to fix things while she went to her room and crashed, after putting a cold compress on her forehead.
The second try went a little better, but this time she messed up on the filling, completely forgetting to add the cinnamon and nutmeg.
“Just keep going,” Tom said after she’d stopped. “Your audience will never know the final product is missing anything, especially since you’ll run through the ingredients one last time at the end.”
She’d compensated for forgotten lines and missed cues many a time in the past. She’d also improvised when things didn’t go exactly as planned. But today? Today was different. Her brain had fixated on the missing spices to the point of making her trip over later steps in the process.
Marla was a trouper. “The show must go on” was imprinted in her brain. But she knew when she finished how badly it had gone.
“Thanks for doing this today, Tom,” she’d told him as he packed up his equipment. “You could’ve walked at any time, and I would’ve understood, but you hung in and got me to the end.”
“I wish I knew how to help you past whatever seemed to be on your mind today,” he replied. “You’re a great actress, and that essence was coming through despite your other difficulties. Why don’t we try this again in another week?”
“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think this is my path.”
“Don’t give up yet. Let me know when you want to resume, and I’ll be there.”
“Poor Tom,” Kitty said after he left. “He thinks he let you down because he’s not a professional director.”
“Did he tell you that?” It was bad enough Marla had let herself down, but the thought that she’d had that effect on Tom was unbearable.
“No. He just takes things on himself sometimes when he shouldn’t. Don’t worry. I’ll talk to him tomorrow and reassure him it wasn’t his fault.”
“Maybe I should be doing the reassuring?” Marla said.
“You’ve got enough on your mind.”
“I was that bad?”
“You weren’t bad, sis. You just didn’t seem to click today.”
“I appreciate your soft-pedaling my performance, but I think I’ll write off doing my own video. It could’ve been a brand-new start for me, but I got in my own way.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You took a chance. I still think you’d be great at it, once you get past your own mind.”
And there was the rub. Marla agreed. Deep down she knew she would be great at this new medium, but something was keeping her from stepping up to the plate and hitting the home run she knew she could pull off. Did that something lie back in California and broken promises and dreams she’d run away from, or was there something new plaguing her since she’d come back to Minnesota? This mystery seemed even more insurmountable than investigating the death of a con man.