Chapter 47
“Drew, what are you doing here?” I burst out as we amble up the grassy lane among the olive trees.
I can’t stand not knowing any longer. We come to a stop in the oldest part of the grove, the trees planted far apart to give them breathing room.
Dappled with sunlight, they are silvery and gnarled with twisted branches, each a unique shape.
It is my favorite part of the farm. I pause by one of the oldest trees.
The wood of the trunk beneath my hand feels warm, alive. Drew comes to a stop next to me.
“This place is amazing, Jules,” he enthuses, glancing around him, taking in the sloping hillside, the glimpse of blue water down below, the cloudless azure of the sky. He whistles in appreciation. “You told me about the farm, but I had no idea it would be so cool. I feel like I’m in a movie.”
“Drew, why are you here, in Italy?” I ask again.
He stops and faces me, his expression eager. “Jules,” he says seriously, “I had to come tell you in person.” He pauses for a beat. “We have another shot at a show.”
My heart skips a beat. “What do you mean?”
“Keith wants us to cohost a show together,” he explains. “Not The Bygone Kitchen . A different format.”
I lick my lips. “What format?” I’m trying to keep up.
Drew looks excited. “I showed Keith the account you sent me, @OlivesandAmore, and he loved it,” he explains.
“He showed it to a couple of producers and they loved it too. Everyone is really excited about this new idea. When Keith saw the recipe video you posted yesterday about the orange flower cake, he booked us tickets to Italy immediately.” He steps closer to me and puts his hands on my shoulders, peering intently into my eyes.
“Jules, we have an offer already. Peacock wants us to shoot a pilot, and if they like it, they’ll sign us for an entire ten-episode run for the first season with the chance to renew for more seasons.
It’s a dream come true for both of us.” He stops, looking expectantly at me.
I stare at him in bewilderment. It’s amazing news. So why am I suddenly feeling hesitant? “Orange Blossom Cake,” I correct him, stepping back a little so his hands fall away from me.
“Right, whatever,” he agrees distractedly. “Jules, they want us, together, to do a show. Can you believe it? It’s what we planned. And yeah, it’s not the old format, but Keith says vintage is out and paranormal stuff is in.”
“But what about your show with Desiree?” I stammer.
Drew winces. “Um, well.” He blows a breath of air out like a deflating soccer ball.
“To be honest, the network decided not to pick us up when they saw the pilot. I guess it wasn’t what they were hoping for.
” He looks disappointed. “And Desiree got a chance to be on this reality dance competition show, which is great for her…but…”
“So your show got cancelled?” I clarify.
He looks down at his feet and nods. “Yeah, it sucks. I was really hoping this was it. But hey, now we get a chance to make a show together.” He grins at me, although the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
He’s making eye contact with me, but there’s a hesitancy there that gives me pause.
What is he not telling me? After the last time when he didn’t tell me about the interview tapes, I’m a little cautious.
“It sounds like a dream come true,” I murmur, trying to grasp this unexpected turn of events. Frankly, I’m stunned. “What would the new show be like? What’s the format?”
I gesture for him to follow me and start walking again, this time toward the house. I don’t know why, but I feel like I want to go back.
“You and I would cohost,” Drew explains.
“I thought Keith didn’t like my style,” I interrupt. “He said my hosting style didn’t set the right tone.” The comment still stings.
“That was before he saw the videos of you cooking here in Italy, and before he knew about your family’s mystical cookbook.” Drew bounds along beside me with barely contained enthusiasm.
“My family’s cookbook?” I slow, suddenly wary. “How does the cookbook factor in?”
“Keith and the producers want to do a reality cooking competition,” Drew explains.
“Sort of like Chopped with a magical twist. Imagine this—home cooks from around the country compete against one another, and the winner of the competition gets to make a recipe from the cookbook to help them solve whatever problem they’re facing in life.
Keith said shows about the supernatural are really hot right now, and everyone loves to root for the underdog.
Picture a cooking competition where every contestant has a problem they need help with—some family issue or they’re lonely and looking for love—and the cookbook helps solve the winner’s problem.
I’d be the host and you’d be the lead judge and cooking expert.
Keith says it’s an original concept. He’s excited about it, and Peacock agrees. ”
I’m baffled by this entire notion. I have to admit I’ve watched my fair share of reality TV. There are weirder shows out there, but something about Drew’s description of the show is making me increasingly uncomfortable.
“But it’s my family’s cookbook,” I protest. “It’s not mine. I doubt Nonna will let me borrow it for TV.” The idea feels sacrilegious somehow, to use the cookbook in this way. “Where is Keith planning to film the show anyway?”
“LA of course,” Drew says.
“LA?” My voice falters. Would the cookbook even work away from this place? I have no idea. I hesitate.
Drew turns and faces me. He grabs my hands and holds tight.
“Jules, this is our chance! What you’ve been dreaming of for five years!
This is it! And we get to do it together.
All we need is for your nonna to lend us her book, just till we’re done shooting.
And if it works, if we make a great show, the sky’s the limit.
Think about it. The money is good. Like really good.
No more working at Trader Joe’s good. You won’t have to worry anymore. ”
That part catches my attention.
“The farm is struggling,” I admit. “And I’ve been trying to figure out how to help.”
“Exactly,” Drew cuts in eagerly. “If you do this show, whatever your nonna needs, whatever the farm needs, you can pay for it. All you have to do is say yes. Convince your nonna to lend us the book, and you can have what you’ve always wanted.” He looks so earnest and excited.
I hesitate. It does sound amazing. Almost too-good-to-be-true amazing. I don’t know what to think. Could this really be the solution to all our problems?
Drew reads the indecision on my face and his own expression clouds. He drops my hands.
“I thought you’d be more excited,” he says quietly. “I thought this is what you wanted.”
“I am excited,” I hasten to reassure him. “It’s just…a surprise. It’s a lot to take in all at once, you know? I thought that dream was over, and now you’re telling me we have a chance again. I just…need a minute to wrap my head around it all.”
“Of course,” Drew says instantly, his enthusiasm bouncing back. “Take your time. Keith said you can let us know tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? That’s really fast.” I’m taken aback. “This is a big decision.”
Drew gives me an uncomprehending look. “This is what you wanted, right? What’s left to decide?
Things move fast in LA. If we don’t jump on this, Keith has a bunch of other ideas waiting, other dreamers like us who will sign on the dotted line.
” He gives me a determined look. “We’re being offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Jules,” he urges me. “Let’s go for it.”
He slings an arm around my shoulders and pulls me against his side. I let him, but my mind is spinning. I should be over the moon. He’s offering me the exact thing I’ve been working toward. It’s everything I thought I wanted. So why am I so hesitant?
“Let me think about it,” I tell Drew finally as we approach the farmhouse and come to a halt on the patio. It’s empty now except for Alex, who has her feet propped on the table and is practicing Italian on her phone. “I’ll have an answer for you by tomorrow.”
“Okay. I’ll tell Keith.” Drew sounds disappointed, and I almost cave and hasten to reassure him that it’s a brilliant idea. Of course I’m thrilled. Of course I’ll do it. But something holds me back.
Drew yawns suddenly and pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I’m beat. I didn’t sleep at all last night on the plane. I think I’m going to head to the hotel. We can come back tomorrow morning to get everything signed.”
“Come back tomorrow.” I nod, realizing he’s already assuming I’m going to say yes.
While Drew arranges for the car to come get him, I pull out my phone and text Nicolo to ask if he and Violetta would be up for trying to make the cake again and if so, how soon could they come over for a redo.
Ideally, I’d really like to be able to taste the cake before I have to give Drew and Keith an answer tomorrow.
I need all the guidance and help I can get to decide what to do.
When the gleaming black sedan pulls into the drive a few minutes later, I walk down the stone steps with Drew. He hugs me enthusiastically and kisses my cheek before hopping into the back seat. As the car disappears down the curve of the drive, he sticks his head out the window.
“Just say yes, Jules!” he yells as he disappears down the drive.