Lief, still working his way into her good graces, was more than happy to load his truck, cover the boxes and drive her into town. “If you’re giving some to Preacher to sample and serve, I’ll be glad to buy you lunch and a beer. How does that sound?”
“Like you’re seducing me,” she said.
“No, I’m serving your needs, after which I hope to seduce you!”
“I have to admit, I like the way you think,” she said.
So they went first to the bar. It was before the lunch hour when Jack and Preacher would have a little time on their hands.
Kelly lined up her jars on the counter for the proprietors. “All of these were made from organic Jilly Farms produce. I’m saving some in her pantry because next week I’m going to hit the farmers’ market, buy some local end-of-season vegetables and make batches from other growers’ stock. I’m willing to bet that my sister’s produce has better flavor, but who knows? Maybe it’s all about the cook and not the ingredients. We’ll see.”
They lined up spoons and small bowls. Lief was allowed to participate in the tasting. It was like a wine, beer or coffee tasting—flat crackers between samples, new spoons for each. “And I’d like to heat this bisque,” Kelly said. “Permission to use the kitchen?”
“Granted!” Preacher said.
The reviews were raves all around, and of course Preacher wanted to know how much she could sell him, what recipes she would share with him, whether she’d provide more.
“You can have this supply if you’re willing to serve it—I’d like to know what your diners think. I don’t share my great-grandmother’s recipes, but I have lots of recipes I can share with you. I’m going to make my nana’s pumpkin soup, roasted pumpkin seeds, pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread and pumpkin muffins for the Halloween open house.”
Preacher’s cheeks got rosier as she listed these items until she finally finished and he said, “Whoa! I have to give you something for this, Kelly.”
“How about a couple of sandwiches,” Lief suggested.
“Just sandwiches? And a slice of my chocolate velvet cake?”
“Perfect,” Kelly said. “And I’d like the jars back, if you don’t mind. I’ll reuse them after sterilizing.”
“It’s turkey pastrami today,” he said. “And if you play your cards right, a little tomato bisque.”
“Lay it on me,” Lief said.
“We’ll eat slow so we can hang out awhile and maybe pick up some reactions from your lunch crowd.”
And that was what happened, with a twist Kelly didn’t realize was unusual for the bar until Jack explained it to her. Preacher usually served up one item per meal, per day and there was no fanfare. He could be talked out of leftovers by the right person, but there wasn’t anything as fussy as a menu. He stayed mostly in the kitchen, brought out finished meals as they were ready, kept to himself and was not usually talkative.
However, on this special day, he was literally meeting every diner, explaining the presence of a guest chef and her special bisques—referring to her as a chef rather than a cook—and offering a free sample of either squash or tomato bisque. His samples were hearty servings, typical of Preacher; the lunch crowd raved and shook her hand in welcome. This gave her a chance to invite everyone she met to the pumpkin patch for a pumpkin picking and more of her goodies.
Then a couple entered, sat up at the bar, and when the woman looked around, Kelly’s breath caught. Muriel St. Claire, Oscar-nominated actress. Celebrities had visited La Touche many times—this was hardly Kelly’s first sighting. But it was astonishing to see her here. And the shocks just kept coming. Muriel locked eyes with Lief and said, “Oh, my God, as I live and breathe!”
“Muriel!” Lief said in surprise. And the two of them met in the middle of the bar and embraced like old friends.
“What are you doing here?” he asked her.
“I live here,” she answered, laughing. “And you?”
“I bought a house here—I wanted to get Courtney out of L.A. And maybe have a quieter life.”
“It doesn’t always stay quiet,” she warned him. “We have our wild times in the mountains! Meet my guy. Walt, come here!” she called.
Kelly watched as a handsome guy in his sixties joined them; Lief shook his hand and Kelly heard Muriel introduce Lief as “The Wunderkind”—an Oscar-winning screenwriter for a movie she was in, one in which she’d been nominated for supporting actress. “How old were you when that happened, Lief? About twelve?”
“Thirty-five, Muriel,” he answered with a laugh. “Come meet a friend of mine.” He turned toward her, and Kelly, still in a state of shock over many revelations, stood up. “Kelly, meet Muriel and Walt. Muriel is an old friend.”
And you, she thought, are an Oscar-winning writer? Not just a writer, but a famous writer? But she said, “Pleasure.” She put out her hand.
“I’ll write him a recommendation,” Muriel said. “This one is a gem. If he weren’t young enough to be my son, I’d chase him myself.”
“I’m not young enough to be your son,” Lief said. “In fact, in the years I’ve known you, you’ve dated men younger than I am!”
“Sh,” Muriel said. “I don’t want Walt to know too much about my shady past.”
“Too late for that,” Walt said. “Nice to meet you both.”
“Join us,” Lief invited. “I want to hear everything you’ve been doing.”
Kelly was mesmerized by Muriel’s update about films she’d done since Lief’s, both nominated but not winners, and her attempt at retirement near where she grew up—a place she could keep her horses, do some riding and get in some duck hunting with her Labs. Kelly heard about Walt’s army career and family. And then, thank God for Walt—he asked about Lief’s work. Kelly had realized she knew terribly little about it because of her assumptions and his downplaying of his importance in his field.
“I’ve been writing or attempting to write since junior high and finally settled on screenwriting, moved to L.A., got work building sets while I took some courses at UCLA and wrote a little.”
“And wrote a blockbuster called Deerslayer that took six academy awards,” Muriel said.
Deerslayer? Kelly thought. She’d heard of it; never seen it. But the movie, at less than ten years old, was already a classic.
“I don’t think I know that film,” Walt said. “Chances are the army didn’t ship us that one in country…”
“It’s a brilliant retelling of The Prodigal Son or James Fenimore Cooper’s Deerslayer, or both,” Muriel explained. “A teenage boy is angry with his parents because they have to put down his horse, runs away from the farm, gets caught up with a militant group of anti-government isolationists who are at odds with the Feds and has to be rescued by the family who won’t stop believing in him. The boy is caught in the middle. Everyone is in danger. It’s the most touching film!”
“A little coming of age, family kind of thing?” Kelly heard herself say to Lief. She had so much to learn about him. No one seemed to notice her awe.
“Lief, I’ve asked Sam to come for a visit, do a little riding and hunting, and he’s threatened to accept. I’m going to call him and tell him you’re here—that might get him to commit.”
“Tell him I have room for him if he can’t take much more of you,” Lief said jokingly.
“Sam?” Kelly asked.
“Sam Shepard,” Muriel said. “He was in the film with me, my counterpart. He’s a brilliant writer himself and kind of mentored Lief.”
Lief covered Muriel’s hand briefly. “He was harder on me than my father, and I still like him. But I’m not showing him any work! I’ve become sensitive. He’s brutal.”
For an hour or so Kelly just listened while Muriel and Lief reminisced. She didn’t recognize most of the names of their mutual friends and colleagues, but then occasionally one would drift into the conversation that anyone would know. Jack Nicholson. Meryl. Diane Keaton.
But there was a lot of non-Hollywood talk. Lief caught them up on his family in Idaho. Muriel squeezed his hand and asked how Courtney was doing, and Lief said, “Okay, but just okay. Getting used to the idea that she’s stuck with me hasn’t been easy on her.”
“She’s lucky, that’s what,” Muriel said.
“I don’t know about that, poor kid…” Lief replied.
I told the man everything in the world about me, knowing so little about him. I was hoping we’d have a meaningful relationship because I’ve been hungry for that without remembering that this is a real man with a deep and complicated life.
She’d asked a few questions, but accepted his superficial answers happily. Because I was more concerned about protecting myself without even considering how vulnerable he might be.
While they talked and laughed, while Muriel and Walt raved about her bisques and asked where they could get more, Kelly kept stowed inside that there was so much she wanted Lief to tell her. No one noticed that she was quieter than usual because Lief and Muriel were having a reunion. And then when lunch was finished and it was time to carry on with their plans, they all hugged and promised to get together very soon, at the pumpkin patch open house for sure.
The next stop was Connie and Ron’s Corner Store right across the street, where she found Connie thrilled to be able to stock some of Kelly’s offerings. “Since it’s not on my inventory, I’m sure I can’t afford it,” Connie said.
“No problem. It’s all yours if you’ll just display some of this stuff and ask for some feedback. That would be so helpful. I know the women around here are fantastic cooks—I’d love to know how I measure up.”
“I have to give you something if it sells,” Connie insisted.
“A donation to finance new jars would be helpful,” Kelly said. “And when the soups get close to their expiration date, either enjoy them or give them to Preacher. They’re all natural, no preservatives, and won’t last long. Maybe you have hunters or fishermen looking for something to warm up.”
“Maybe,” Connie agreed. “We’ll see how it goes!”
When they were back in Lief’s truck, he took her hand. “I want to show you where I live,” he said. “Can you take a detour by my house on the way home?”
She turned to him and said, “Oh, Lief, we have so much to talk about.”
He lifted his eyebrows and looked a little surprised. “Like?”
“Like this life of yours that I haven’t really known about.”
“I kind of liked that you didn’t know the public part,” he said. “You know—that exploited part—the conjecture on who’s seeing who, who’s divorcing, who’s the next Oscar bet. But of my real life? I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“Then let’s go see where you live. And have the conversation we should have had a couple of weeks ago.”
Lief’s house was utterly beautiful. Now that Kelly knew a little more about his background, this came as no surprise; he must certainly have a good income. It was new, spacious with high, open-beam ceilings, was tastefully decorated and, the real selling point for her, had a wonderful, big kitchen.
After a brief tour, they sat at the kitchen table with coffee. She asked him how he grew up.
“A fairly poor farm kid who read James Fenimore Cooper?”
“We were pretty well-educated farm kids,” he said with a smile. “The schools were good. And my folks were strict. That little Amber who Courtney is hanging with these days? Her folks remind me of mine in some ways. They’re pretty simple people, who know the value of an A.”
“Like you’re seducing me,” she said.
“No, I’m serving your needs, after which I hope to seduce you!”
“I have to admit, I like the way you think,” she said.
So they went first to the bar. It was before the lunch hour when Jack and Preacher would have a little time on their hands.
Kelly lined up her jars on the counter for the proprietors. “All of these were made from organic Jilly Farms produce. I’m saving some in her pantry because next week I’m going to hit the farmers’ market, buy some local end-of-season vegetables and make batches from other growers’ stock. I’m willing to bet that my sister’s produce has better flavor, but who knows? Maybe it’s all about the cook and not the ingredients. We’ll see.”
They lined up spoons and small bowls. Lief was allowed to participate in the tasting. It was like a wine, beer or coffee tasting—flat crackers between samples, new spoons for each. “And I’d like to heat this bisque,” Kelly said. “Permission to use the kitchen?”
“Granted!” Preacher said.
The reviews were raves all around, and of course Preacher wanted to know how much she could sell him, what recipes she would share with him, whether she’d provide more.
“You can have this supply if you’re willing to serve it—I’d like to know what your diners think. I don’t share my great-grandmother’s recipes, but I have lots of recipes I can share with you. I’m going to make my nana’s pumpkin soup, roasted pumpkin seeds, pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread and pumpkin muffins for the Halloween open house.”
Preacher’s cheeks got rosier as she listed these items until she finally finished and he said, “Whoa! I have to give you something for this, Kelly.”
“How about a couple of sandwiches,” Lief suggested.
“Just sandwiches? And a slice of my chocolate velvet cake?”
“Perfect,” Kelly said. “And I’d like the jars back, if you don’t mind. I’ll reuse them after sterilizing.”
“It’s turkey pastrami today,” he said. “And if you play your cards right, a little tomato bisque.”
“Lay it on me,” Lief said.
“We’ll eat slow so we can hang out awhile and maybe pick up some reactions from your lunch crowd.”
And that was what happened, with a twist Kelly didn’t realize was unusual for the bar until Jack explained it to her. Preacher usually served up one item per meal, per day and there was no fanfare. He could be talked out of leftovers by the right person, but there wasn’t anything as fussy as a menu. He stayed mostly in the kitchen, brought out finished meals as they were ready, kept to himself and was not usually talkative.
However, on this special day, he was literally meeting every diner, explaining the presence of a guest chef and her special bisques—referring to her as a chef rather than a cook—and offering a free sample of either squash or tomato bisque. His samples were hearty servings, typical of Preacher; the lunch crowd raved and shook her hand in welcome. This gave her a chance to invite everyone she met to the pumpkin patch for a pumpkin picking and more of her goodies.
Then a couple entered, sat up at the bar, and when the woman looked around, Kelly’s breath caught. Muriel St. Claire, Oscar-nominated actress. Celebrities had visited La Touche many times—this was hardly Kelly’s first sighting. But it was astonishing to see her here. And the shocks just kept coming. Muriel locked eyes with Lief and said, “Oh, my God, as I live and breathe!”
“Muriel!” Lief said in surprise. And the two of them met in the middle of the bar and embraced like old friends.
“What are you doing here?” he asked her.
“I live here,” she answered, laughing. “And you?”
“I bought a house here—I wanted to get Courtney out of L.A. And maybe have a quieter life.”
“It doesn’t always stay quiet,” she warned him. “We have our wild times in the mountains! Meet my guy. Walt, come here!” she called.
Kelly watched as a handsome guy in his sixties joined them; Lief shook his hand and Kelly heard Muriel introduce Lief as “The Wunderkind”—an Oscar-winning screenwriter for a movie she was in, one in which she’d been nominated for supporting actress. “How old were you when that happened, Lief? About twelve?”
“Thirty-five, Muriel,” he answered with a laugh. “Come meet a friend of mine.” He turned toward her, and Kelly, still in a state of shock over many revelations, stood up. “Kelly, meet Muriel and Walt. Muriel is an old friend.”
And you, she thought, are an Oscar-winning writer? Not just a writer, but a famous writer? But she said, “Pleasure.” She put out her hand.
“I’ll write him a recommendation,” Muriel said. “This one is a gem. If he weren’t young enough to be my son, I’d chase him myself.”
“I’m not young enough to be your son,” Lief said. “In fact, in the years I’ve known you, you’ve dated men younger than I am!”
“Sh,” Muriel said. “I don’t want Walt to know too much about my shady past.”
“Too late for that,” Walt said. “Nice to meet you both.”
“Join us,” Lief invited. “I want to hear everything you’ve been doing.”
Kelly was mesmerized by Muriel’s update about films she’d done since Lief’s, both nominated but not winners, and her attempt at retirement near where she grew up—a place she could keep her horses, do some riding and get in some duck hunting with her Labs. Kelly heard about Walt’s army career and family. And then, thank God for Walt—he asked about Lief’s work. Kelly had realized she knew terribly little about it because of her assumptions and his downplaying of his importance in his field.
“I’ve been writing or attempting to write since junior high and finally settled on screenwriting, moved to L.A., got work building sets while I took some courses at UCLA and wrote a little.”
“And wrote a blockbuster called Deerslayer that took six academy awards,” Muriel said.
Deerslayer? Kelly thought. She’d heard of it; never seen it. But the movie, at less than ten years old, was already a classic.
“I don’t think I know that film,” Walt said. “Chances are the army didn’t ship us that one in country…”
“It’s a brilliant retelling of The Prodigal Son or James Fenimore Cooper’s Deerslayer, or both,” Muriel explained. “A teenage boy is angry with his parents because they have to put down his horse, runs away from the farm, gets caught up with a militant group of anti-government isolationists who are at odds with the Feds and has to be rescued by the family who won’t stop believing in him. The boy is caught in the middle. Everyone is in danger. It’s the most touching film!”
“A little coming of age, family kind of thing?” Kelly heard herself say to Lief. She had so much to learn about him. No one seemed to notice her awe.
“Lief, I’ve asked Sam to come for a visit, do a little riding and hunting, and he’s threatened to accept. I’m going to call him and tell him you’re here—that might get him to commit.”
“Tell him I have room for him if he can’t take much more of you,” Lief said jokingly.
“Sam?” Kelly asked.
“Sam Shepard,” Muriel said. “He was in the film with me, my counterpart. He’s a brilliant writer himself and kind of mentored Lief.”
Lief covered Muriel’s hand briefly. “He was harder on me than my father, and I still like him. But I’m not showing him any work! I’ve become sensitive. He’s brutal.”
For an hour or so Kelly just listened while Muriel and Lief reminisced. She didn’t recognize most of the names of their mutual friends and colleagues, but then occasionally one would drift into the conversation that anyone would know. Jack Nicholson. Meryl. Diane Keaton.
But there was a lot of non-Hollywood talk. Lief caught them up on his family in Idaho. Muriel squeezed his hand and asked how Courtney was doing, and Lief said, “Okay, but just okay. Getting used to the idea that she’s stuck with me hasn’t been easy on her.”
“She’s lucky, that’s what,” Muriel said.
“I don’t know about that, poor kid…” Lief replied.
I told the man everything in the world about me, knowing so little about him. I was hoping we’d have a meaningful relationship because I’ve been hungry for that without remembering that this is a real man with a deep and complicated life.
She’d asked a few questions, but accepted his superficial answers happily. Because I was more concerned about protecting myself without even considering how vulnerable he might be.
While they talked and laughed, while Muriel and Walt raved about her bisques and asked where they could get more, Kelly kept stowed inside that there was so much she wanted Lief to tell her. No one noticed that she was quieter than usual because Lief and Muriel were having a reunion. And then when lunch was finished and it was time to carry on with their plans, they all hugged and promised to get together very soon, at the pumpkin patch open house for sure.
The next stop was Connie and Ron’s Corner Store right across the street, where she found Connie thrilled to be able to stock some of Kelly’s offerings. “Since it’s not on my inventory, I’m sure I can’t afford it,” Connie said.
“No problem. It’s all yours if you’ll just display some of this stuff and ask for some feedback. That would be so helpful. I know the women around here are fantastic cooks—I’d love to know how I measure up.”
“I have to give you something if it sells,” Connie insisted.
“A donation to finance new jars would be helpful,” Kelly said. “And when the soups get close to their expiration date, either enjoy them or give them to Preacher. They’re all natural, no preservatives, and won’t last long. Maybe you have hunters or fishermen looking for something to warm up.”
“Maybe,” Connie agreed. “We’ll see how it goes!”
When they were back in Lief’s truck, he took her hand. “I want to show you where I live,” he said. “Can you take a detour by my house on the way home?”
She turned to him and said, “Oh, Lief, we have so much to talk about.”
He lifted his eyebrows and looked a little surprised. “Like?”
“Like this life of yours that I haven’t really known about.”
“I kind of liked that you didn’t know the public part,” he said. “You know—that exploited part—the conjecture on who’s seeing who, who’s divorcing, who’s the next Oscar bet. But of my real life? I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“Then let’s go see where you live. And have the conversation we should have had a couple of weeks ago.”
Lief’s house was utterly beautiful. Now that Kelly knew a little more about his background, this came as no surprise; he must certainly have a good income. It was new, spacious with high, open-beam ceilings, was tastefully decorated and, the real selling point for her, had a wonderful, big kitchen.
After a brief tour, they sat at the kitchen table with coffee. She asked him how he grew up.
“A fairly poor farm kid who read James Fenimore Cooper?”
“We were pretty well-educated farm kids,” he said with a smile. “The schools were good. And my folks were strict. That little Amber who Courtney is hanging with these days? Her folks remind me of mine in some ways. They’re pretty simple people, who know the value of an A.”
