advertising business. Bernie wondered what her fans would think if they knew that Consuela was just a middle-class Jersey girl who knew as much about rice and beans as someone from Ohio. No, they wouldn’t be too happy, Bernie was willing to wager. Once credibility was lost, it was hard to get it back.
“You’re crazy,” Consuela told her.
“No. I’m not. You used to go out with Peter Dorset. We met at a party once.”
Consuela lifted her chin up. “I’ve never been to Hoboken.”
Bernie laughed. “You are such a liar.”
Consuela gasped and put her hand over her heart. “Excuse me?”
As Eric moved forward, Bernie noticed that he had a small stain on the lapel of his lavender jacket. It looked like oil, Bernie thought. Or maybe grease. Eric waved his hands in the air to get Consuela’s attention. She ignored him.
“Did I hear you right?” she asked Bernie.
Bernie smiled at her. “Of course, I meant that in the nicest possible way.”
She was about to add something else equally insincere when the door opened again and Hortense Calabash, strands of hair wrapped in little pieces of foil, sailed into the room, the arms of her silk kimono flapping behind her. Eric froze. As Bernie watched Hortense approaching, she reflected that she looked a lot older off screen than on, even allowing for her lack of make-up.
“Eric,” Hortense demanded. “What is going on here? I can hear the noise in my room for heaven’s sake. How can I focus?”
“I’m so sorry,” Eric said.
Hortense looked him up and down. A moment elapsed, then she said, “Don’t be sorry, Eric. Sorry is a waste of time. Just fix the problem and move on. This is a television show, not a kindergarten.” Two red dots of color appeared on Eric’s cheeks. He started to say something, but Hortense held up her hand. “I’m not interested in an explanation,” she informed him. “I’m really not. Explanations are excuses, and I don’t tolerate excuses.”
Eric took a step back, looking for all the world, Bernie thought, like a whipped dog.
“Yes, Hortense,” he said.
Hortense ignored him and glanced around the room. When she got to Consuela, her eyebrows shot up and her nostrils quivered ever so slightly. She moved toward her. “How good to see you again,” she purred as she came to a stop in front of her.
“You too,” Consuela muttered.
When Hortense smiled, Bernie reflected that her teeth looked like Chiclets. Whoever had done Hortense’s veneers should be sued.
“I hope you’re all right,” Hortense said.
“Why shouldn’t I be?” Consuela asked.
Hortense put her hand over her mouth for a moment and shook her head. It was, Bernie reflected, a gesture designed to show great concern for your fellow man.
“Well, I heard you were having that small problem with your suppliers. I hope you managed to fix it.”
Consuela clenched her jaw muscles.
“Everything’s fine,” she spit out.
“Good. Good. Good,” said Hortense. “I’m so relieved.” She shook her head and moved over to where Libby was standing. “And Libby,” she said, looking her up and down, “our very own star. I’m so glad you and your sister could come.”
“Me too,” Libby said in what Bernie considered to be a very unconvincing tone.
Hortense reached over and patted Libby’s hand.
“Our own little local celebrities.” Hortense turned to Eric. “It’s true, you know,” she told Eric. “What’s more, they’re crime fighters in the bargain. You didn’t know that, did you, Consuela?” Hortense asked.
Consuela shook her head.
“Yes. They’re quite famous.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Libby demurred.
“You were in the papers,” Hortense said. “Bree showed me the article.”
Libby flinched, remembering how unhappy Bree had been about the coverage of their first and second ventures.
“It’s so reassuring having you here,” Hortense continued. She smiled. “That way if anything happens to me, you’ll be right on the scene. Don’t you find that reassuring, Eric?”
Bernie decided he looked anything but reassured when he said, “Oh yes.”
Hortense’s lips twitched up into a smile.
“For heaven’s sake, I was just joking, Eric. Who would want to harm me?”
“No one, Hortense,” Eric replied in what Bernie judged to be a less-than-satisfactory tone.
“Of course not. I just think it’s better to be prepared for all eventualities.” Hortense patted Libby’s hands again. “You know that Bree thinks the world of you, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Libby said. That was news to her.
“And any friend of hers is a friend of mine, which is why I hope you don’t mind my giving you a teeny piece of advice.”
Bernie could see her sister’s shoulders stiffening as she said, “Not at all.”
“Good,” Hortense said. “I knew you wouldn’t. Bree told me you go for the rumpled look, but I hope you’re planning to change into something more flattering than what you’re wearing. What you have on makes you look a tad chunky, so I can’t imagine what it will do on TV. You do know the camera adds between ten and twenty pounds to your weight?”
“I know,” Libby said, her complexion having gone to beet red.
“Wonderful,” Hortense said. “Now I suggest you all adjourn to the green room. I have to finish with my hair and get into my Santa Claus outfit. I adore dressing up, and this outfit is so fun. I got it made especially for me by Auberge. Auberge the designer.”
“I know who Auberge is,” Bernie told her.
Hortense rewarded her with a perfunctory smile. “How clever of you. And by the way, in case any of you are interested, the list of ingredients for tomorrow’s dinner is with me.” She patted the breast pocket of what Bernie was sure was a one hundred percent silk robe. “And will continue to be, not that it would occur to any of you to try and riffle through my file cabinet to find it. However, I feel one can never be too careful in matters such as these. Isn’t that right, Consuela?”
Consuela nodded.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you,” Hortense told her.
“That’s right,” Consuela said, looking down at the floor.
Hortense nodded
