The Ugly Duckling (Excerpt)

Lioness

"Guests in this kitchen get their hands dirty, except Sherise. We don't want to burn the place down or have to perform surgery," Lizzy said calmly as I swiveled on my heel and saw my mother and sister entering another chef's domain without invitation.

"This part of the lodge is off-limits to uninvited guests and visitors," I said with a calm that came from a place inside me that I didn't know existed.

"Mercedes, I do not mind when family of my friends visit our kitchen," Lizzy said, and I glanced at her briefly.

Strange that I was more in tune with this woman, whom I have spoken to only a few times and spent an hour with, than with my own flesh and blood standing ten feet from me.

Lizzy expected me to take control of myself and the situation and channel my inner Arielle.

My mother may have found me, but she clearly had no idea what my function was in this environment.

"Sorry, Aunt Lizzy, it was just a little unexpected," I apologized graciously, and the twin expressions of puzzlement on Adele and Kelsey's faces were priceless.

"Maybe they wanted to surprise you?" she suggested, meaning that as a pleasant thing, but they had not intended it as such. They were here to rescue me from my own "stupidity."

She guessed the truth, but she wanted me to take her cue.

"Please, Chef Adele, Chef Kelsey, sit down, take a load off. We're having wine. Can I get you something?" Jeanette shifted into hostess mode with the ease of a consummate actress, and I could tell that my mom and sister only just recognized her.

"I wouldn't mind wine. This trip was unexpected and grueling," Kelsey said, and it was the first time I heard her subtly needling my mom.

"What can I offer you? We have a rather large variety of very fine wines," Jeanette said, pulling out two chairs beside the central island.

"Whatever you're having is fine," Kelsey said, sitting down with a sigh, and she looked rather tired, but not just from a long flight.

In fact, she looked like she needed a vacation from her life.

Why had I never noticed the tightness of her shoulders, the shadows in her eyes, or the strain in her manner? Stress. That's what it was—constant, unrelenting tension.

"Chef Adele? What can I get you?" Jeanette asked, getting Kelsey's wine.

"Bourbon, neat, one ice," I said, and my mother glanced at me as if she didn't expect me to know that, but I always remembered such details about people. Why would I not know what my mom liked?

"Can I get a refill?" Sherise asked.

"At the rate that you're going, we'll have to ask Dean to carry you to your room tonight," I teased, and she glanced at me with a smirk.

"In that case, leave the bottle. It may be the only way he notices that I exist."

"You do his makeup every day. He knows you exist. You just clam up around him, and he's a genuinely nice guy. Tomorrow, try good morning. How did you sleep?"

"God no, then I'd wonder if he's a pj's guy, a boxer shorts guy, or 'I am a hunk, and I sleep naked,' guy. And I'd probably make him look like a clown or say something inappropriate."

"Now, how am I going to get that out of my head the next time I speak to him?" Erika said tongue in cheek, and we laughed.

"What are you doing here, Mom?" I asked, taking the green beans Jeanette took out of the fridge and planted beside me without instructions as I took my seat again.

She probably realized I needed something to do with my hands.

"We've come to save you from yet another 'impractical life decision,'" Kelsey said, and the slight hint of bitterness took me aback as she drained her glass. Oddly, the glance between my mother and her spoke of friction.

What the hell was wrong with paradise? Had I romanticized their relationship, had I caused this rift I sensed, or was it hubris to think that I was the root of the problem? Or at least the only root.

Why had I never seen them with such clarity?

"This is a private matter, Kelsey."

"The moment you waltzed in here, Mother, and humiliated Mercedes in front of strangers was when this stopped being a private matter. These are my sister's friends; I can tell that from the way they look at you. Half caught between the admiration they have for you as a chef and half uncertain if they had it all wrong."

"Kelsey, that is enough."

My mother sounded weary, tired beyond words, and again, this was not jetlag.

"We can speak privately, later, or preferably tomorrow, Mother. Right now, we're enjoying a relaxing evening with great people, good wine, and awesome food.

"I don't know if you know this, but Chef Lizzy is an award-winning chef, and being invited into her kitchen is an honor. Chef Erika is self-taught, but she does things with pastry that blows my mind.

"Sherise here is one of the best make-up artists in the business. I am sure you know Jeanette, and usually, this kitchen is brimful of talented cooks, but for this to be intimate and a true 'kuier' as they call it, we man the kitchen tonight," I said, and my charming conversational tone had her completely confounded.

"Most of our guests are on the neighboring farm for a 'spitbraai,'" Erika said without bothering to explain 'spitbraai.'

Why would she? Such an accomplished chef should know the terms used in countries where she spent time.

"Lamb or pork?" Adele asked, instantly interested.

"Both," Erika answered, cutting wax paper to line her cake pans.

"Why are you not there?" Adele asked, glancing at me.

"Not all the guests went, we offered our staff to help out with the catering and washing up, and Mercedes has an early morning."

"Dean went," Sherise chipped in.

"He doesn't have a scene until past ten, and knowing Pagliani, that would be nearer twelve. The rest of us don't have that luxury," I said, and although it would have been fun, this was fun too. Or it was until "certain people" arrived.

"Let me fill that for you," Jeanette offered, and I held out my glass.

"Knives and wine don't work together," Adele spoke at me, and the room turned quiet.

"I think Mercedes is quite old enough to know her measure."

Kelsey had never defended me like this, but why did it sound like an old debate between them?

"Pagliani would have a pissing fit if his leading lady showed up with a cut on her finger..." As usual, Sherise's brain caught up with her mouth a moment too late.

The silence following her words could dampen the sound in a high school hallway to a whisper.

"What do you mean, leading lady?" Adele asked very quietly.

"Oh, shit, sorry, Mercedes," Sherise panicked.

"It's fine, and it's no secret. Although I would have liked to tell them myself."

"Where's my leading lady?" Harris asked from the door, rather more relaxed than when he left.

He saw Adele, frowned, and walked right up to me, taking my hand and kissing it like an old-fashioned gentleman.

"The investors raved about the cuts I showed them, and Druscilla will behave," he promised, his glance taking me in to determine my state of mind before he turned to face Adele.

(Version 2)