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“No,” Diana said, her tone dark. “It’ll be just us. You up to the task?”
“Rachelle’s up for anything,” Frank assured her. “She’s been a remarkable force of nature here at the restaurant. I’m sure you two will get along swimmingly.” Frank’s eyes lifted to the cameramen on the opposite side of the room. “Just to let you know, Rachelle. We have to film this again after you sign the paperwork.”
“Film what?” Rachelle asked, frowning.
“They want to see us meeting for the first time,” Diana answered with a slight roll of her eyes.
“Why?” Rachelle asked.
“Because,” Frank said, “you’re an essential part of the team, Rachelle. And the viewers have to fall in love with you.”
Pressure built up against Rachelle’s chest. It was difficult to breathe. “Um,” she said with a laugh, “all right!”
This wasn’t what she’d signed up for.
“Diana? Can we do a makeup touch-up?” A woman whizzed past her, carrying a makeup bag. Diana followed after her without a word. Clearly, she was accustomed to being so important, touched-up, and called after.
Rachelle’s wheels were spinning.
“By the way,” Frank said, “do you have social media?”
“Yes,” Rachelle said, thinking: doesn’t everyone?
“You’ll want to ensure everything is updated,” Frank said. “The minute people see you on-screen and fall in love with you, they’ll want to follow your every move. I recommend updating your profile picture and posting frequently so people can get to know you better. Remember, this could lead to incredible opportunities across the world. You could be in more cooking shows after this. You could have a career like Diana’s.”
Rachelle’s heart thudded with disbelief. A TV crew member led her to the bar to sign away her rights to the television program, and another woman began to prep her face with makeup. As she applied blush, Rachelle’s eyes shifted across the room to find Eddie chatting enthusiastically with another in the crew. If there was anyone made for television, it was Eddie. The entire world would be watching him. And they would fall in love, just as Rachelle was.
Chapter Five
The Cooking Channel had selected a beautiful Victorian home in Siasconset for Diana’s stay in Nantucket. With its cream-colored eaves, thick pillars, and wraparound porch, it looked like something from a wistful romance novel. By comparison, the house Diana had left behind in Santa Monica looked like a spaceship.
She didn’t miss it. In fact, her old house with Ryan now seemed like a prison. It was here, in Nantucket, where Diana had taken her first breaths in what felt like years. Her heart was beating again.
After Diana’s first day at The Clam Factory—which was a terrible name, she thought, although she had no say in the matter—she drove back to Siasconset, parked in the garage, and sat in her car in the darkness for a full five minutes, trying to come down. The back half of the day involved brief interviews on camera, plus filming her “meeting” with her new sous chef, Rachelle. They’d had to film it ten times for Rachelle’s sake. She didn’t look very comfortable on camera and kept saying the wrong thing or tugging at her chef whites. Although Diana had been annoyed, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible, she’d empathized. Rachelle was young and naive—approximately the same age Diana had been when she’d begun her television work. Diana had felt like an exposed nerve.
She was seasoned in television work now. But that didn’t mean she’d fallen in love with it.
Diana entered the kitchen, unbuttoning her chef’s whites and ultimately throwing them over a kitchen stool. She stood in leggings and a tank top, removing a bottle of wine from the fridge and pouring herself a large glass. Out the kitchen window was the Atlantic Ocean, frothing, its waves violent as they crashed upon the shore. Overhead, dark clouds billowed, throwing themselves forward as they approached the island. It thrilled her to see such chaos in nature. In Los Angeles, every day was sunny and sparkling. Time never seemed to pass.
Diana gritted her teeth and turned her phone back on. She’d had it on airplane mode all day—for good reason. Now, it rattled and buzzed with text messages and missed calls from Ryan. His anger flowed across the continent and infected her.
RYAN: You never would have gotten your show without me.
RYAN: You are going to regret this.
RYAN: And let’s be honest.
RYAN: The show is going to flop.
RYAN: You never had the charisma we needed. What makes you think you’re going to hack it on your own?
RYAN: To be honest, I’m surprised they offered it to you. What makes them think you’ll smile on camera this time around, huh? What makes them think you’ll make it any easier on them?
Diana abandoned her phone on the counter and sat with her wine on the living room couch, facing the ocean, the wind and the rage of the storm. It matched her heart.
She couldn’t help but fall back through time. She couldn’t help but parse through it and wonder where she’d gone wrong.
One minute, she’d been as young, naive, and hopeful as Rachelle, her sous chef. And the next, she was this version—alone in the shadows of a living room, far from any home she’d ever known.
