Page 62 of The Kitchen Contract

It feels like an eternity before I get my first break and the opportunity to call Alex. He picks up on the second ring and my already racing pulse picks up at the sound of his voice.

“Hello there, Rose. To do what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I called the guy who left me a voicemail back this morning and he says he’s a TV producer. You’re not going to believe this.” I give him a quick recap of my conversation with Miles Brenner, speaking so quickly I’m out of breath by the time I finish. “So, what do you think of that?”

“I think that’s amazing, Rose! Your hard work and creativity are paying off.” He sounds nearly as excited as I am. “What are you going to tell him?”

“I’m not sure. I wanted to talk to you first, but I don’t have a lot of time left in my break. Just tell me this—are you interested in being on TV?”

Alex hesitates for a long moment. “I mean, I think it would be fun to host a cooking show like we’ve been doing but bigger. But I have a lot of questions, like how much experience does this guy have? If the pitch turns into a show, will it require a full-time commitment? Would we have to move? I’m not sure I want to leave my job and Nashville, you know?”

I feel the needles of anxiety that I’ve been trying to ignore pricking more sharply as he voices some of my own concerns. “I’m not sure. I think it depends on who likes his pitch and wants to develop it. If anyone even does. It’s not a sure thing that it will get made just because he pitches it,” I echo what Miles told me.

“That’s a good point.” Alex blows out a breath and thinks for a minute. “Let’s do this. Give me a day or two to do some research on this Miles Brenner guy and see if he’s legit. If so, I think you should tell him yes to the pitch. Let him work on it and see if it goes anywhere. This could be a really great opportunity, but we won’t know unless we take the next step and find out more.”

“Okay, yes, that makes sense,” I say, nodding even though he can’t see me. “I’ll wait to hear from you, and if he checks out, I’ll reply to his email and tell him to proceed with the pitch and keep us in the loop. If it doesn’t go anywhere then that’s the answer. And if someone is interested…”

“Then we can cross that bridge when we come to it,” Alex finishes for me.

“Okay,” I say again.

“Okay,” Alex affirms. “And Rose? Whatever happens, I hope you know I’m so proud of you.”

My eyes fill with tears, and I can barely squeeze a reply past the lump in my throat. “Thank you, Xander. That means a lot to me.”

I have to get back inside, so we say goodbye and hang up, but Alex’s encouraging words bolster me throughout the rest of the afternoon.

I’m still floating along on a cloud of cautious hopes and dreams when I knock on the door to Alex’s office Friday at noon, pushing it open when he calls, “Come in.”

“Rose?” Alex’s face lights up with a smile. I hope he looks twice this surprised this evening when he walks into an unexpected party.

“Happy birthday!” I close the door behind me and meet him in front of his desk, setting down the bag of takeout I brought and wrapping him up in a hug. “I brought you lunch since I won’t be able to go to dinner tonight.”

He squeezes me tightly, then takes a step back, his hands resting on my shoulders. “You didn’t have to do this, but I’m glad you did. It feels like forever since I’ve seen you.”

“I know what you mean.” Each day has felt like a week since our chowder date on Monday.

“Whatever you got smells delicious,” he says, dropping his hands and turning to the bag.

“I got us Philly cheesesteak sandwiches with house-made potato chips.” I reach for the bag and pull out two Styrofoam boxes and bottles of water. “I’ll have to owe you a birthday cake.”

“Maybe I can cash in on that this weekend.”

“You got it,” I promise, snickering inside as I think about the huge cake Maddy had me bake and deliver to his house this morning for his party tonight. She’s been texting me all day asking questions and confirming details. It’s a good thing I took the whole day off.

I slide my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and set it on Alex’s desk, then tug a chair up close and sit down. Alex pulls his swiveling desk chair around to sit on the same side as me, and we dig in. “Are you having a good birthday so far?”

Alex nods and wipes his mouth. “I thought I was going to have to fire someone this morning, but it turned out to be a misunderstanding, so that was good. I hate to fire people.”

I smile. “I’ve never had to do that, but I can imagine it’s not very pleasant.”

“Definitely not. It’s one of the worst parts of working in HR. I have a list of tips and tricks to make it easier, like don’t terminate employment while the employee is holding food.”

“Uh oh.” I raise my eyebrows. “Sounds like there’s a story behind that one.”

“Let’s just say the sandwich wasn’t bad, but I’m lucky I don’t have a scar from that apple.”

I laugh, covering my full mouth with one hand and trying unsuccessfully to adjust my face back to a more serious expression. “I’m sorry, it’s not funny.”

---