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Rachelle’s heart swelled. The corners of her lips curled into a smile.
“What?” Darcy demanded.
“I don’t know,” Rachelle said with a laugh. “All this attention is wild. And, I mean, Eddie is so cute. Isn’t he?”
Darcy laughed. “You’re drinking the Kool-Aid.”
“Not exactly,” Rachelle replied. “I just wouldn’t hate it if something really did happen, you know?”
“I think you have the world on your side,” Darcy said. “Why not push it a little bit? Ask him out?”
Rachelle beamed, crossing her arms over her chest and gazing dreamily out the window. The kitchen was filled with the soul-affirming smell of baking scones. And soon, they’d dollop the gorgeous scones with cream and dine in front of a favorite film. Life felt a little too good to be true right now. Rachelle told herself to cherish it.
Chapter Nine
The third episode of The Nantucket Factory premiered on April thirtieth. As was their custom, Rachelle, Darcy, Sam, and Estelle gathered at The Jessabelle House to watch the stories unfold. Rachelle made mushroom tacos and guacamole; Darcy stirred up some lemonade. Outside, a tremendous sunset smeared pinks and oranges across the horizon, giving an eerie magic to the beach.
“Any hint on what this episode will be about?” Sam asked Rachelle as she slid a chip through some guac.
“Probably more of the same drama,” Rachelle said with a shrug.
“More fake romance?” Estelle asked, wrapping her hands around her glass of lemonade and wagging her eyebrows.
“Or real romance?” Darcy teased.
Rachelle’s cheeks burned. “There is absolutely no romance going on.”
Yesterday and today, she’d tried to get up the nerve to flirt with Eddie one-on-one. But two metaphorical fires (and one real) in the kitchen had kept her busy, fighting to keep up with the insane rate of tickets coming in. Frank was making more money than he knew what to do with, as evidenced by the fact that he continually treated the staff to free shots and glasses of wine when the cameras cut. It was impossible to know how much he was making from the network. Probably tons.
After they ate, Rachelle, Estelle, Darcy, and Sam gathered around the television. On-screen were the familiar opening shots of Nantucket—the harbor, the bluffs, the wide swathes of green lawn. Rachelle was filled with pride at the beauty of her home. She gave herself a quiet pep talk about not feeling upset at whatever was shown in today’s episode. It was all marketing. It was all business.
And then, Diana’s face filled the screen. She was angry and practically screaming. “You have to pay attention. You can’t let yourself lose a moment of time. Not in my kitchen. Not when so much is at stake.”
Rachelle remembered when Diana had said this. It had been more than two weeks ago when Benny had spilled an entire skillet of ground beef across the kitchen floor.
But when the camera panned away from Diana, it didn’t go to Benny. Instead, it showed Rachelle. Rachelle’s face was blotchy and embarrassed. A moment later, the screen filled with the ground beef Benny had spilled.
“I did not do that!” Rachelle assured her mother, grandmother, and sister.
The next shot was of Eddie at the Nantucket Harbor. He wore a windbreaker and walked confidently, striding alongside one of the producers, talking about his life on the island, his parents, and his dreams. The producers understood that the viewers at home had taken a vested interest in Eddie. They planned to dig deeper.
“That’s the thing about being an islander,” Eddie was saying, his eyes on the horizon. “You know, in an abstract sense, that there’s this whole other world out there. But you don’t care. We have everything we need here. We have beauty. We have delicious food. We have tremendous history.” He raised his shoulders and laughed.
“What about the other islanders at the restaurant?” the producer asked. “Do you think they feel the same?”
“Absolutely,” Eddie said.
“Rachelle went away to culinary school in Boston, correct?” the producer asked.
“She did.” Eddie’s eyes swam with intrigue.
“Did you miss her?”
Rachelle felt as though she had a knife in her stomach. Eddie laughed handsomely.
“Islanders always come home,” Eddie said then, his voice dreamy. “That’s a godsend. Don’t you think?”
“It sounds like you’re avoiding the question,” the producer said.
