Chapter 3
Chapter Three
The lights in Joanna Gilston’s face were so bright, she couldn’t really see what was right in front of her. She cleared her throat and tented a hand over her eyes.
“Too bright?” the journalist asked. Amy Farrell from Channel Seven News rested a hand on Joanna’s arm. “Don’t worry. They’ll fix it in a moment.”
The lights dimmed, and Joanna blinked. There was still a bright circle in the middle of her vision. She looked at Amy. The journalist flicked through a thin sheaf of papers in her lap. She wet a finger with her tongue and kept flicking. She had long, wavy blonde hair, blue eyes and the most perfect nose. She looked like a television newscaster’s dream.
“Now, I’m going to introduce the segment, and then I’ll do an interview with you,” she said. “Don’t be nervous—it’s very casual. We’re going to have fun. Okay?”
“Okay, sure,” Joanna replied.
She’d done interviews before, but never on television. The success of The Sunshine Potluck Society Cookbook had taken them all by surprise. People loved it. Families, book clubs, groups all over the world were making meals based on her recipes. Because of the book that she and her three best friends had written together. But because the recipes were hers, and she was the lead writer due to her many years as a cookbook author, she was the person most interviewers focused on.
She hadn’t realised none of the other ladies would be at this particular interview until she’d arrived on set. She should’ve called them to check, but hadn’t thought about it. Her agent had sent her the details, like she always did, and Joanna followed the instructions she was given. Now, she was about to go live on television without her friends. She hoped they wouldn’t be too miffed about it. Surely they’d understand. She wasn’t the one who booked these events. Their agent did. And the agent did whatever the client wanted.
“And we’re live in three, two, one…” A man with a headset pointed to Amy.
With a bright smile, Amy introduced the segment, spoke about all the things they’d cover, and then turned to face Joanna.
“…and I have with me today Joanna Gilston. Joanna has written a dozen bestselling cookbooks over the years, but this latest one has every cook in the country in a tizzy. Isn’t that right, Joanna?”
Joanna nodded. “It does seem to have made something of an impact, Amy. Thank you.”
“Can you tell us why you think that is?”
Joanna swallowed, staring into the camera, once again blinded by the lights. “I can’t say for certain, but I think it has something to do with the themes. My friends and I hold a monthly potluck society at my house, and every month we have a new theme. It keeps things interesting. And the cookbook has recipes grouped by theme, along with ideas for décor and drinks to go with the delicious menu. For example, this month we’re doing a Nepalese theme, so there will be momo dumplings, curries and, of course, colourful decorations to complement the menu.”
“That sounds like fun,” Amy replied.
“It’s a great way to hold a dinner party—everything’s already planned for you.”
“I think I’m going to have to get a copy for myself,” Amy quipped.
After the interview was over, Joanna sat in the green room, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She looked so strange with all that makeup on. With a cotton wipe, she removed it, a heaviness falling over her. Why was she upset? The interview had gone well. The segment had included them making one of the dishes together in a studio kitchen, and Amy had loved the pulled pork with rice and beans from the Mexican-themed section of the cookbook. But Joanna still felt something was missing.
It was Emily, Gwen and Debbie. They weren’t there. And it wasn’t nearly as much fun as the interviews they’d done together. Besides the fact that she missed them, she wasn’t looking forward to explaining to them that she’d done their favourite morning show without them.
There was zero chance they’d not see it. All four of them watched the show religiously while they ate breakfast. It was how they got their daily dose of the news as well as some fun segments like games, cooking, giveaways and human-interest stories. Joanna had watched the show for years herself, even back when it was hosted by a red-faced man with a drinking problem and a woman with bleached blonde hair and over-filled lips.
Now, Amy Farrell had taken over along with a young man called Bud Harrington, and they’d raised the profile of the show to make it a must-see for the younger generation as well. Her segment would be seen by millions of Australians. She couldn’t avoid telling Emily, Debbie and Gwen about it. Since it was live, they probably knew already.
She was just about to get up to leave when there was a rap on the door. She walked over to it, surprised that anyone was around. Most of the staff were still involved in the show, and the makeup artist who had worked with her had gone to the bathroom. She wouldn’t knock on the door. When she opened it, she found Chris standing there, hand raised as though to knock again.
“There you are,” he said. “This place is a rabbit warren. I wasn’t sure where to find you.”
She smiled. “I thought you’d wait in the car.”
“It’s getting hot out there,” he said.
“Oh, of course. I’m sorry. I’m just about ready to go. Thank you so much for agreeing to drive me. It’s been quite a stressful morning. I didn’t want to have to contend with peak-hour traffic on top of everything else. I might just pass out.”
She grabbed her purse and followed him out the door.
“Do you have to tell anyone you’re leaving?”
“No, they’re all busy.”
“How did it go?”
“It was great,” she said, although she didn’t smile as the words left her mouth.
He studied her face and opened the external door for her to walk through. He was quiet the rest of the way to the car. When they were inside, he started the engine and drove out of the lot. As he pulled the car onto the highway, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.
“Are you okay?”
She sighed. “I’m fine.”
“Because you seem a bit low. You were excited on the way in this morning. Did something go wrong?”
She shook her head. “Not really. It’s just that I was the only one there. I thought everyone would be there—all of us. But it wasn’t the group. It was me and Amy Farrell. That’s it.”
“Oh, wow,” he replied. “That must’ve been a lot for you to deal with alone.”
“It was. But I managed fine. The thing is, I missed the other ladies. And I’m afraid they won’t understand.”
“You think they’ll be upset about it?”
“I do,” she replied.
“They may not. Don’t get worked up until you know for sure. I’m certain they’re all mature enough to understand that you don’t control who is or isn’t included in a television segment.”
“Yes, but this isn’t the first time it’s happened. I’ve done several signings alone, and I got the feeling that the others were a little miffed about it. They didn’t say anything. They’re too kind to do that. But I could tell they were unsettled. I don’t want to cause any trouble between us. This cookbook was supposed to draw us together, and it has done that for the most part. I don’t want it to be a thorn in our friendships.”
“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Chris replied. “Your friends care about you. They know you, and they understand that these things happen.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said, looking out the window at the trees whizzing by as her stomach clenched into a knot.