California Dreaming: Four Contemporary Romances (87 page)

Would working on a movie entangle her back into Lola’s web?

Around ten that morning, Mandy headed north on Highway 1. Following James’s directions, she turned left just before Davenport. The summer sun threaded through the leaves of the live oaks and madrone, adding a dappled shade to the road.

A modified RV with a purple Vespa strapped to its back occupied the edge of a side lot at the end of the street. Mandy parked her aging Subaru wagon behind it and got out. She spotted James talking to a short, roundish, gray-haired woman. Her purple capris and striped mauve shirt gave her an arty flair.

Mandy walked over.

“Hi, Mandy,” James said. “This is Sally Minor. Sally, this is the gal I’ve been telling you about.”

“Pleased to meet you. Hope you can help out. James says you’ve never been on a movie set before. Tell me what you’ve done.”

Mandy gave the woman a brief recap of her cooking experience, which sounded pitifully small.

Sally’s hooded gray eyes studied her. “Why do you want this job?”

Mandy swallowed. “I … I really don’t … um … ”

James shifted beside her.

She took a deep breath.
I can do this.

“For the experience. You’re right, I’ve never catered a movie before. Actually, aside from a wedding and a few graduation parties, I haven’t catered much at all. I only launched my business a few months ago, but I graduated from culinary school in New York.” She forced herself to stop talking.

At Sally’s frown, she revved up again. “I know my way around a kitchen. And … I do have some experience with Hollywood and actors. My parents are Lola Parker and Dana Russell.”

“Dana Russell?” James raised his eyebrows. “The same guy who was nominated for an Oscar last year?”

“Yeah. That one.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think we’d known each other long enough to share that kind of information.”

Sally said, “I’ve known Dana Russell for close to thirty years. He’s a good guy.”

She must mean a different Dana Russell from the man Mandy knew as her father. She shrugged. “I haven’t seen him since I was five. Wouldn’t know.” A threat of unexpected tears stung her eyes.

Sally stared at her for a few seconds. “I’m willing to give you a try. This is a pretty good group as these folks go.”

James cleared his throat. “Not totally. Beth Ann called me yesterday.” He turned to Mandy. “Beth Ann’s the director.” He looked back at Sally. “She had to replace one of the actors. She hired George Stubbins.”

Sally took a step toward James and stuck a finger in his face. “It’s your job to make sure he stays away from this girl. I won’t have my staff harassed.”

“Staff?” Mandy’s pulse quickened. “Does that mean you’re hiring me?”

“It’s only for a few weeks,” Sally said. “How much can go wrong in a few weeks?”

• • •

While Sally and Mandy worked out the details of the job, James explored the location Beth Ann had selected for this section of the movie shooting. She’d chosen the spot because of the craggy rock formations and deep coves. She thought it added to the impending doom of the woman’s literary fiction adaptation she was filming.

God, he hated women’s literary fiction. What a downer. He’d take a chick flick romance any day over depressing deep thinking. But Beth Ann had won several awards for her films, so she must know what she’s doing.

James climbed back up the beach to the path leading over the crest. Once the crew got the set pieces onto the beach, he’d have someone smooth the path to make it easier to navigate. He didn’t need anyone getting hurt.

As he walked the location, he made notes, but half his mind was on Mandy’s revelation. Lola Parker and Dana Russell. Who would have imagined?

From her reaction, having the two as parents hadn’t been a stellar experience. He’d have to tread lightly, especially since Russell was on his personal short list of producers to approach about assistant positions when the time was right.

Sally and Mandy were exiting the rig when he walked onto the empty lot an hour after he’d left them. Both had smiles on their faces.

Good. This might work out.

“Ready for lunch?” he asked Mandy.

“I don’t know. I really should be getting back. I’ve got a lot to arrange before tomorrow.”

Sally poked her in the ribs. “Go. Once Monday arrives you won’t have time to breathe, much less go to lunch with a good-looking guy.” She chuckled. “Even if the guy is too pre-occupied with work to give a pretty girl much attention.”

James groaned. “Don’t listen to a word she says. The women I date are very happy with me.”

Sally turned on him. “Date. You go out with the same woman no more than five times before you drop her. You never get beyond that. You’re commitment-phobic.”

“You want me to marry you, Sally?”

The older woman burst out laughing and poked his shoulder. “In your dreams! You’re not man enough to handle a woman like me!”

James forced a laugh. “We’ve got things we need to talk about,” he said to Mandy. “We can take my car. I’ll drop you off here after lunch.”

“Okay, I guess.” She followed him to the car.

He helped her into the Explorer. Her touch sparked a current in his body. Maybe he could introduce the thought of a casual fling during lunch.

Would she be open to that? She stared out the passenger window, chewing on her thumb nail. She looked about ten.

His usual style of love ’em and leave ’em might hurt her, especially if she’d had a rough childhood. He didn’t want that on his conscience.

“What kind of movie is this?” Mandy asked as they pulled out onto the highway.

“Beth Ann refuses to direct romantic comedies, which is where most women directors wind up. Instead, she does a lot of dark women’s fiction. You know, the kind of film that wins prizes at Sundance and Toronto.”

“I think I prefer romantic comedies,” Mandy said.

He grinned. “Me, too.”

“Men don’t usually go for froth.”

He grinned. “Women like them. When I take a date to a romantic comedy instead of a guy action movie, she appreciates it.”

“I see.” Her voice had an edge of chill.

“I didn’t mean that to come out the way it sounded.”

She waved a hand. “It’s okay. I’m sure Sally was right.” She took off an earring, examined it, and put it back on her ear.

Had Sally deliberately tried to prevent anything from happening between him and his newest hire? His irritation with his movie caterer grew.

Road noise echoed uncomfortably through the car for the next few miles.

James pulled into the parking lot next to a three-story brick building with a large sign declaring “Davenport Cash Store.”

“Have you been here before?”

She shook her head. “I don’t go out much—too busy. Sometimes I go to dinner with Sarah and Hunter, but we stick pretty close to home.”

“One of the fun parts of coming to this place is finding out the market specials. They source from local farms.”

They walked to the building, and he held the door open for her.

She hesitated for a moment, eyeing him like a wild animal expecting the worst, then entered the building while he followed.

A riot of colorful knick-knacks, dolls, and pottery filled the front part of the restaurant. A hostess in a gauzy shirt, crinkled skirt, and sandals led them to their table which was set with the same colorful pottery displayed in the store.

Their server walked over to fill their water glasses as soon as she left. “Would you like anything to drink besides water?”

“Wine?” James asked.

Mandy shook her head. “I have to work later, remember. I’ll have an iced tea.”

“Make that two.”

The server made a notation on her pad. “Our special today is a grilled salmon fillet with sautéed fresh local vegetables in a savory sauce.” She looked up at them. “Do you need a few minutes to decide?”

“Are you ready? Remember, I’m buying, so feel free to choose whatever you want.”

She hesitated as if trying to determine true price of the meal. “I’d love to have the salmon.”

James smiled and looked at the waitress. “Make that two.”

Once the waitress left he said, “It seems we have similar tastes.”

“At least with food.” The smile was tentative, but it was there.

“Why did you want to become a caterer?”

She traced the droplets of water on the outside of her glass. “When I was eighteen I would do anything to spite my mother. She wanted me to learn publicity and marketing so I could help her with her career.” Mandy wrinkled her nose like a small child served broccoli. “I hate marketing.”

“So you’ve said.”

Lola sounded self-centered. No wonder her daughter was leery of actors.

“So,” Mandy continued, “I did the thing I figured would upset her the most. I went to culinary school.” She smiled at James. “Lola was livid.”

“Did you like it?”

Her smile broadened. “That’s the fun part. I
loved
it! Cooking is artistry, blending flavors and textures together like paint.”

The waiter put their plates in front of them. “Enjoy!”

James forked off a piece of salmon and put it in his mouth.

Mandy did the same and closed her eyes as she chewed and swallowed.

“What do you think?” he asked.

She kept her eyes closed. “Very fresh. While that’s mostly true on the coast, sometimes a chef tries to cut corners and overly seasons the fish to disguise the fact that it’s Atlantic farmed salmon. Whoever did this has a light hand with the marinade—very nice.”

She ran her tongue around her lips as if searching for the last flavor.

He almost groaned aloud.

“I would have added some crushed green peppercorns though.” She opened her eyes and looked at him. Then her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What were you thinking?”

Shit.
“Um. Just caught up in your description—that’s all.”

Their eyes held for a moment.

She knew he was lying. Her expression told him she knew exactly what he’d been thinking.

Of course. As a young, good-looking waitress, she must be hit on all the time. She had an intriguing quality about her—a combination of vulnerability and playfulness that made him want to protect her from bad side of life.

From slime like George Stubbins.

He searched for a safe subject. “How long have you lived in Costanoa?”

“About three years. Moved here a few months after I finished school.” She stabbed a green bean, then looked up at him as she twirled it on her fork. “So what about you? What’s your story, Mr. Lubbock?”

“I’m the middle child. Parents are still happily married and my dad owns a factory that creates gear for the military. Michael is some upper muckity-muck in Silicon Valley. The other one’s a doctor. Over-achievers, both of them. I’ve always been fascinated by movies and went to school at UCLA for film. My parents weren’t thrilled. They wish I was in a stable career, but they’re coping. They want me to be happy.”

A flicker of sadness shadowed her features for a second.

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Your parents want you out of show business, and my mother wants me hip-deep in hers.”

“We can’t live for our parents, Mandy.”

She swallowed. “I suppose you’re right.” But the tone of her voice suggested the opposite.

Early Saturday morning, Mandy drove up Highway 1 to the catering location, a thermos of coffee beside her. The night had been interminable. Every time she woke, she’d stare at the clock to make out the time, only to find a measly hour had gone by.

Mandy turned down the narrow road to the film location and parked by the catering truck.

“Morning, Mandy.” Sally’s outfit was similar to the one she’d worn the day before, but instead of a button down shirt, she wore a violet tee-shirt declaring “Frodo Lives!” Beaded earrings dangled almost to her shoulders. “I’m glad you’re here.” She glanced at the container in Mandy’s hand. “Rough night?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Sally patted her on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

The iron lung around Mandy’s chest relaxed. If Sally had confidence in her, maybe she’d be okay. Being accepted at face value was something that rarely happened to her.

“Let’s go inside and I’ll show you the menus for the next two weeks. Then we can run to Costco for supplies. Okay if we use your car? I’ll reimburse you for the mileage.” Sally clambered into the converted RV.

Although Mandy didn’t want to add unnecessary mileage to her car, she was uncomfortable refusing a request from her new boss. “Sure.” She followed Sally inside.

“Tomorrow we’ll hit up one of the farmer’s markets. The last time I was here, the best was in Costanoa. Still there?”

“Yep.” The Sunday morning market was one of her favorites.

“I’ll meet you there at seven.” She stopped for a moment. “Or do you have to work at the inn for breakfast?”

Mandy shook her head. “Sarah’s guests aren’t arriving until next weekend, so I can go to the market with you.” She was eager to see how Sally’s approach to the market was different from hers.

Sally laid out a set of papers on one of the work tables. “I hope they still have the sauerkraut. It’s amazing. Our crew will love it.” She smiled. “The actors, not so much.”

“Why?”

“Have you ever tried to hold back a burp on camera?”

Mandy cracked up at the image. The tension in her shoulders eased a little more.

“Anyway,” Sally continued, “I’m going for a combination of offerings. Corralitos sausage and sauerkraut for the crew lunch on Sunday, then moving on to lighter fare like yellowtail in coconut and lemongrass, some grilled chicken, rice, salads on Monday when most of the actors will be here. Fortunately, they’re only doing day shots, so the actors and crew will take care of dinner on their own.”

They spent the next few hours reviewing menus and creating food lists.

The trip to Costco took most of the rest of the morning. On the way back they took a side trip to Grenaldi’s Market for sandwiches. The yeasty smells of fresh baked goods, and rainbow of vegetables invigorated Mandy. Food was her creative outlet and staff of life.