The Chicken Sisters(10)

Lolly kicked her under the table, hard. Looking at Meghan, Mae realized she’d made a mistake. That was not the problem she meant. Mae’s chill came back, more strongly this time. She’d misread the most senior woman there, and there was no way to walk it back.

Meghan’s face was serious. “That may be a problem for some families, Mae, but for us, unhappy sponsors are a much bigger problem. And many viewers feel that you are lecturing them. Your results are good, but you’re very judgmental about the things that make people need us in the first place.”

“I’m sorry. I can change that. I really can.” Mae leaned forward. Couldn’t they see she heard them? That this was something she could fix?

“We appreciate your willingness to try, Mae, we do. But for now we’re going to continue the season without you. We may audition another co-host, or we may go forward with just Lolly. Or we might come back to you. But for now, we’re not convinced you’re right for this role, and we need to move forward without you. We’ll be in touch.” She picked up the folder she’d carried into the meeting and leaned over the table to shake Mae’s hand. “We know you’ll do some great things in the interval, and if this doesn’t work out, that you’ll make a big success without us, Mae. And we really appreciate all your hard work.”

That’s it? Apparently, it was. Everyone was getting up. Meghan was insisting on shaking her hand, as was Christine’s new assistant, who looked like she was taking mental notes for when she got the chance to fire someone someday. Everyone filed out of the room, and Mae, holding her eyes wide open to keep tears from coming, turned away from Lolly and walked after them, willing Lolly to just let her go, but no. Of course not.

Lolly grabbed her and hugged her. “I’m so, so sorry! They made me totally promise not to tell you. But I knew you’d be okay! You’re so strong. And you have so many ideas, Mae. You don’t need Sparkling.”

Mae willed herself to speak without her voice cracking, trying to focus on the anger she felt instead of the mess of sorrow and fear. “I’ll be fine,” she said, and as she spoke, an idea flashed into her mind. The best idea. The perfect idea. “I’ll be totally fine, you’re right. In fact, I didn’t say anything in there, and don’t tell anyone yet, but I just got an invitation to lead a Food Wars feature.”

Lolly looked surprised, and Mae rushed on. “It will just be a few episodes, but I’m pretty excited about it. I really can’t share any details. Anyway, we’ll keep in touch?”

“Of course,” Lolly said, and based on the look of interest in her eyes, Mae thought that she just might mean it, for once. “I can’t wait to hear about it.”

“I’ll text you updates. Remember, though, don’t tell anyone yet.” Lolly would, of course, and that was fine with Mae. She turned on one boot heel, hoping Lolly wouldn’t follow. The elevator seemed to take forever to come, but when it did, it was blissfully empty. Mae didn’t bother striking a Wonder Woman pose this time. She leaned into the corner, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and took her phone out of her bag. Apparently, she was going to Kansas.



* * *



×


By the time Jay got home from work, Mae was ready.

The apartment was spotless—sparkling, even. She’d booked tickets—taking two kids and a nanny to Kansas on a day’s notice wasn’t cheap, but she could write it off. She’d primed all her social media accounts with teasers. She was taking some time off from Sparkling. Exploring a new opportunity. She couldn’t say more—but stay tuned! Her audience would be stoked. Now she just had to persuade Jay to see it her way.

Jessa, at her request, had taken the kids to the park and then to their favorite local diner for dinner. Mae used the time packing and stewing, both literally—making a lamb and tomato stew that Jay loved—and figuratively. Every scene she’d recorded at Sparkling had flowed! She and Lolly were great together—anyone could see that. And didn’t the shopaholic Lolly need a foil? Or at least someone to bring her down to earth?

In her own home, Mae had established sleek white perfection. Clear surfaces. Just the right things on every shelf. Unstuffed drawers that opened easily. Cabinets that held only what fit—useful, well-cared-for things that did their jobs and then went back where they belonged without jostling or juggling or pushing other things aside. The afternoon’s cleaning binge had been unnecessary, really, but unless you kept on top of things, removing the excess and keeping just what you loved and what worked, everything piled up.

Just for the pleasure of it, she opened the drawer next to the stove, a deep drawer that moved quietly on slides she’d installed herself. There was the space for the Dutch oven, now in use on the stove. There was the spaghetti pot. There were the two saucepans. Those, plus the two frying pans that stood up in another cabinet, were both exactly what she needed and all she wanted.

Mae took a deep breath as she gazed down into the space, consciously dropping her shoulders from her ears. Who needed meditation when you had clean drawers? Ooh, that was brilliant. She grabbed her phone, took a quick picture of the drawer, then used an app to layer the words over the photo and share it to Instagram: Who needs meditation when you have clean drawers? #cleanspacecalmmind. That was a Mae Moore mantra. Once she left her mother’s house, she built her whole life around clean space, calm mind, and it worked.