Janie, not so much.
“Be you,” Corrine said, giving her hand a squeeze as she stepped back from the car.
Be you. That was what Cor had said to her just before she’d walked down the aisle to marry Dillon. Be you. She’d said it to Corrine just a few short weeks later when her friend had moved from the apartment they’d shared into a dorm room because she’d no longer been able to afford the apartment on scholarship money.
“Be you,” Corrine had said when Janie had decided to have Dawson at the expense of her marriage. “Be you,” she’d whispered to her friend on Thanksgiving night when Corrine had called to tell her that she and Joe were getting back together.
Be you, she told herself as she pulled into the back lot of the small Palm Desert studio and parked her old station wagon next to all of the newer, fancier cars.
Be you. It was the only thing she knew how to do.
But wasn’t at all sure it would be even close to good enough.
* * *
“OKAY, YOU’VE GOT THIS. Just don’t forget to smile at the camera. Women get all gaga when you smile and Family Secrets has a lot of women judges.”
Backstage, in a private alcove she’d found for them, Kelsey was straightening the tie she’d insisted Burke wear for this pre-competition taping session.
As a sports medicine specialist, he favored collared polo shirts. But this was Kelsey’s deal and, so far, it had been a miracle worker.
In the two weeks since he’d won a spot as one of eight contestants on the show, Kelsey had been a different child.
He was lucky if she slept more than six hours a night. She’d brought home two major tests—both As. Was full of ideas every night when they got home, pulling out more and more of her mother’s recipes and making plans for packaging as he prepared one dish after another.
The grand prize included one of the winner’s recipes being commercially packaged and nationally distributed.
She’d held parties, inviting various friends over to taste his results. Making spreadsheets filled with opinions. Assessing. Analyzing.
Best of all, he’d seen her dancing in the kitchen again. Running through a routine.
And this morning he’d heard her singing in the shower.
“You’re going to win this, Daddy,” she reached up on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “I just know you are. We’re a family again, you and me and Mom. Just one more time. This is how we live without her. Keeping a piece of her alive.”
Claws squeezed his throat until drawing breath was painful. “Kels...” She was wise beyond her years. And...so fragile, too.
“Trust, Daddy,” she said, tears in her eyes as she lowered her heels to the floor and looked up at him. “Mom’s going to help you.”
“It doesn’t always work that way.”
“That’s what you said before the audition and look what happened.” Her expression dead serious, she waited with an expectant look on her sweet, tortured features.
He had to tell her that he might not win.
To make certain she understood that some things were out of their control. That maybe someone else had angels watching down on them, too.
And that sometimes, no matter how many angels you had, things didn’t happen as it seemed they should.
That he could let her down. Again.
Lil, the “entity” she wanted him to trust, was a case in point.
If everything had gone as it should, Lil would be standing there in the wings, getting ready to go on the show. Lil would be alive. In her daughter’s life.
Helping him raise her.
And neither of them would be worrying about a thirteen-year-old on the verge of clinical depression.
But...
“Okay.” He nodded. Gave her a big grin. “I’ll trust.”
She grinned then, too. Relief flooding into her expression. “Then everything will be fine. Just like at the audition. We’ll win.”
“Yes, ma’am, I believe we will,” he said as he heard all contestants being called to the green room.
“You promise,” Kelsey said as she turned to head out to her seat in the small, nearly empty studio auditorium.
“I promise.”
“You’ll trust.”
“Yes.”
As he turned to join the others whose dreams were going on the line that cool January Saturday, all Burke could see was those big blue eyes that compelled him to make promises he wasn’t sure he could keep.
JANIE ALREADY FELT like she didn’t belong. The eight contestants had gathered in a green room—nothing elegant: four walls, used couches, a tray with water and tea, a side bar with snacks, a refrigerator, lockers and television monitors so they could see the stage—for a few moments before being called on stage.
The introductions and instructions were going to be done in front of the camera. On-air instructions and official rules, that was. They’d all been sent an entire packet full of information, instruction, on-air makeup and dress tips, dress code and what had seemed like a million forms to sign.
Throughout the five weeks, any of the footage filmed during this initial non-cooking session could be tapped for airing. A facial expression, a line someone said during separate interview sessions, could be dubbed into a particular show at any time. Not really sure how that worked, realistically speaking, Janie didn’t really care, either. Other than it meant she had to be “on” every single second she was there.
Had to stay focused.
Couldn’t be worrying about Dawson. Not that she had to worry today. He was with Cor and Joe. But what about next Saturday when the first show was being taped? And the competition was on?
She’d focus then, too. And pray there were no Dawson emergencies his therapist couldn’t handle on her own. Everyone at therapy and at preschool knew about Family Secrets—a video of the Thanksgiving show with Dawson had been sent around—and everyone was rooting for her.
Cor and Joe would have him the following week, as well. If there was a problem during his session, they’d handle it.
Her job was to focus.
To let go of Dawson a little bit. Trust him to the world in which he had to live...
Trust that his “gang” would have his back.
She didn’t feel like one of her current gang. Each of the other seven contestants had already cooked for the host of Family Secrets, Natasha Stevens—albeit not on air. They’d all had to audition live for their place on the show.
She’d never cooked for anyone other than family and friends.
Her mailed-in Thanksgiving recipe had won her a spot on the famous cooking show.
She had no idea if she could even pull this off.
At the end of the line, waiting to walk on stage and take a seat—eight bar stools were lined up for this first segment—she pulled her phone out of the waistband of her black skinny jeans. Checked to make sure there were no calls. Sent a quick text off to Cor, asking if Dawson’s ear was okay. Deleted same. Pushed and held the power button. Tucked the phone away and straightened the black silk jacket over her hip bones. All cells