“Do you realize who else used to be food editor at the Atlanta newspaper?” Birdelle, her mama, had demanded. “Mrs. Henrietta Dull, that’s who. Mrs. S. R. Dull herself. My mama kept Mrs. Dull’s cookbook right beside her King James Bible and her Eugenia Price novels.”
Two years ago, Gina was doing a cooking demonstration: no-fuss holiday desserts, it was, on Atlanta Alive!, the noontime television talk show on the local NBC affiliate, and Scott Zaleski was the producer.
She’d been asked back to do three more segments after that, and after the fourth segment, and a lot of flirting and provocative e-mails, Scott had asked her out to dinner.
He was blond and athletic, well dressed, and wildly ambitious—for both of them.
Six months after they’d started dating, he’d sold GPTV on her concept for a new kind of southern cooking—flavorful but healthy, with an emphasis on fresh, locally produced foods prepared with an updated twist on regional traditions. It was called Fresh Start with Regina Foxton.
Their set was the same one she’d used for the Atlanta Alive! shows. But it was starting to grate on her nerves. The cupboard doors, whose rich dark wood looked so expensive on camera, were actually just stained plywood, and they were warped so badly they had to be closed with gaffer’s tape. The countertops were a cheap imitation granite laminate, and the cooktop, donated by a long-ago sponsor, was, as far as Gina was concerned, ready for the scrap heap.
Their offices weren’t much either. Hers was actually the former janitor’s closet. So much for the glamour of big-time show business. At least she could use the mop sink to wash her face.
She steamed toward Scott’s office. How could he leave her out of the loop on so many critical changes for the show? If there were issues with the sponsor, and with the budget, shouldn’t she have been the first to know?
The door was closed. She knocked, waited. “Scott?”
She opened the door and stuck her head inside. Empty.
His office was tidy as always, desktop cleared, books and tapes stacked neatly on their shelves. She plopped down in his swivel chair, determined to confront him as soon as he showed up.
Her irritation melted a little when she caught sight of the screen saver on his computer. It was a color photo of the two of them, standing on the beach last summer at sunset, his arms wrapped around her waist. Scott’s blond hair glowed in the golden light, and her own face seemed to glimmer with happiness.
How sweet! And surprising. Scott was the least sentimental man she’d ever known. She had no idea the photo had meant so much to him. She reached out to touch the screen and bumped the mouse. Suddenly, the photo disappeared, and a document materialized on the computer screen.
Squinting at the print, she felt a passing twinge of guilt. The small print ran together in an incomprehensible blur. She fumbled in the pockets of her slacks and brought out the reading glasses, which also made her feel guilty.
Scott was always pestering her to get fitted for contacts, but she’d tried them once, and hated the sensation of having a foreign object in her eye. Her readers were fine, she’d protested, but he’d banned her from wearing them on camera. No glasses, no aprons, nothing, he’d proclaimed, that might give off even a whiff of Betty Crocker. Regina Foxton was young, hot, and gorgeous. No granny glasses!
Glasses perched on the end of her nose, she started to read.
The document was Scott’s résumé. Laid out in neat rows of black and white, it made him out a young television phenom. Bachelor’s degree in comparative lit, cum laude, University of Virginia. Master’s in film and television, Florida State University. Internships at CBS and ESPN. Before the Atlanta Alive! job, he’d produced a Sunday-morning political debate show for a public television station in Jackson, Mississippi, and before that, he’d been a production assistant at CNN.
She read on. E. Scott Zaleski was thirty-two years old, unmarried, with professional affiliations that included board memberships for the Association of Georgia Broadcasters and the High Museum’s Young Associates as well as the Nature Conservancy.
He was currently employed as producer and creator of the Georgia Emmy-winning Fresh Start with Regina Foxton show.
Creator? Gina said it aloud. Of her show? Fresh Start?
The office door swung open, and Scott rushed inside. He was dressed in a dark pin-striped suit, wearing the silk Armani tie Gina had bought him at Barney’s in New York. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Gina sitting at his desk.
“Hey!” he said. He glanced at his watch. “Shouldn’t you be taping?”
“I don’t know,” Gina said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I was just going to ask you the same question. We started taping two hours ago. Where were you?”