“You really should stay, Halia,” Cynthia says. “You’ll be on the concierge level. You can get a good night’s sleep on a plush-top mattress with thousand-thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. Perhaps after watching a movie on the seventy-inch TV with Bose Surround speakers or taking a soak in your own Jacuzzi tub. You can have your morning coffee on the patio with a view of the river.”
“Can she bring a guest?” Wavonne asks.
“I suppose that would be fine.”
“Wait until I tell Melva that I’m gonna stay the night at the Willow Oak Inn!”
“Who said anything about staying the night anywhere? This is the first mention I’ve heard of this thing rolling into two days.”
“Not two days,” Cynthia says. “We’d like you on-site the morning after the taping so you can be part of the contestant departure segment. We usually get some footage of the eliminated individual packing their suitcase, offering some final commentary on the patio with the sun coming up in the background, and saying their good-byes to the other contestants and judges. We can have you out of there by seven a.m.”
“Seven a.m?” Wavonne says. “I have not been up at seven a.m. since TJ Maxx opened early for a super sale the day after Thanksgiving.”
“Wavonne, I think one of your other tables needs some drinks refilled, or some plates cleared, or something.”
“I’m not really a morning person either with my late nights here,” I say, as Wavonne grudgingly walks off. “But if I can be back here by the late morning that should be okay.”
“Perfect. So, we’re all set.”
Right then, Russell’s cell phone rings. “Russell here.” After giving what sounds like a woman’s voice on the other end of the phone a chance to speak, he says, “Okay, I’ll be right there.” He lowers his phone clad hand. “I have to cut this short. Something has come up at the inn.” He looks across the table at me and Twyla. “I’m sure Cynthia can answer any further questions you have.” Then, in what appears to be true Russell fashion, he gets up from the table without another word and heads for the door.
Chapter 5
“How will you get back to the hotel?” I ask Cynthia as Russell exits Sweet Tea.
“He’ll send the car back for me and Trudy,” she says, making me feel silly for thinking that Russell Mellinger actually drove himself here... or drives himself anywhere. “Now, what other questions do you have?” she asks, and I wonder if I’m the only person at the table who thinks it’s strange that a woman’s husband was called away at eight o’clock at night by what sounded like a female voice, said woman’s husband leaves with barely a word, and said woman does not seem to be even slightly concerned about his impending whereabouts. Most women I know would have a hundred questions for their spouse and possibly sneak in the car and follow him to make sure whatever answers he gave were actually true. But I guess if it doesn’t bother Cynthia, it shouldn’t bother me.
“Now that you mention it,” I say, “since I’ve already admitted that I’m not really familiar with the show, may I ask what the challenges, like the one we’ll be part of tomorrow, typically involve?”
“We give the chefs a task that they have to complete within a certain amount of time. Last week we visited the Kennedy Center and the contestants were asked to prepare one of President Kennedy’s favorite foods. When the local cherry blossoms were in bloom, we toured the tidal basin and all the contestants thought the challenge would involve cherries. But we like to keep them on their toes, so back at the restaurant we reminded them that DC’s famous cherry blossoms don’t actually produce any cherries. In recognition of the trees being gifts to the US from Japan, we went with a Japanese food theme.”
“So, what’s tomorrow’s challenge?”
“We like to keep that under wraps, even for the judges. Prior to the competition each judge is paired with select contestants. Since we only have three chefs left, you, Russell, and Twyla will only be paired with one contestant each. You’ll be able to offer some guidance to your contestants, so we like you to be as surprised by the challenge as each of them. Russell is not even in on the challenges.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Twyla says.
“Really. He isn’t. Russell has very limited involvement in the production of the show. That’s all left up to me and my team. He’s got four restaurants to supervise... a fifth one opening in a couple of months and a brand new hotel to get up and running. He barely has time to show up for the tapings.”
“I guess I have a bit of a leg up—Trudy already told me the episode was going to have a soul food theme.”
“Oh, she did?” Cynthia darts her eyes in Trudy’s direction and then back at me. “Well... let’s just say the challenge will involve soul food, among other things.”
“Sounds good,” I say. “Speaking of soul food, are you ready to order?”
“The braised pork chops special sounds delightful to me and so does that chowder,” Cynthia says.
“My crab and corn chowder is one of my favorite soups,” I say. “This is the best time of year for crab meat. We get it locally and work it into a bath of bacon drippings, butter, pureed potatoes, and half and half. It’s divine, if I do say so myself.”
“You’re making my mouth water, but, sadly, I think I’d better stick with a salad. My metabolism is not what it once was. I’d have to take three spin classes tomorrow if I went with the pork chops,” Cynthia says.
“Just a salad for me, too,” comes from Twyla.
I signal for Wavonne to come back to the table.
“Twyla and Cynthia would both like the grilled chicken salad.”
“The dressing on the side,” Twyla says.
“And for you?” Wavonne asks me.
“I’ll have the salad, too.”
“The salad? For you?” she questions. “Are you feelin’ okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine.”
“I ain’t never seen you eat a salad in your life. You’ve been eyein’ those pork chops all evenin’.” She pauses for a moment, her eyes moving from me to my tablemates and back to me again. “Oh, I get it,” she says. “Beyoncé and Kelly are having salads, so Michelle’s gotta order one, too.”
“Just bring the salads, Wavonne.”
“As you wish,” she replies sarcastically. She’s being a smart-ass, but an honest one. I was planning to indulge in the evening’s special—seasoned bone-in chops, seared on both sides before taking a simmer in a bath of chicken broth, honey, and vinegar. But I think I’d feel odd eating pork chops covered in sauce while my guests nibble on salads across the table from me.
I continue to chat with Cynthia and Twyla, and I can honestly say that the energy at the table has changed since Russell left—we are all more relaxed without him barking orders at Trudy or into his phone.
