too, a little boost, something to get more people to try us out. It’s just—you know there aren’t as many people coming to town anymore, and this would help.” If only she knew what her mother wanted to hear. She could hear herself babbling, but she just didn’t seem to be able to stop.
“It would help the whole town. They just want to come film for a few hours, to start. Just get to know us, and that’s probably it. Not a big deal, really. Except it might bring in business.”
Barbara crossed her arms. “The trouble with you, Amanda, is that you never know what you want. Do you think this is a good idea, or don’t you?” She turned to Andy. “It sounds ridiculous. You like it?”
Amanda held her breath. It might seem like Barbara wanted their opinion, but in Amanda’s experience she never did. Andy should shrug, maybe, leave it up to her, let her decide. She tried to send him thought messages. Tone it down, keep it light.
Which is exactly what he did not do. “Are you kidding? I love it. And it’s totally a big deal! It’s awesome. Seriously, Food Wars? Here?” He looked at Barbara, who was still standing with her arms crossed, then back at Amanda, as if expecting her to share his enthusiasm. “So do they want to do a full thing, like all three competitions, or just the food taste-off?”
Had this guy not figured Barbara out at all? This was not the way to get her on board. Amanda backtracked frantically, trying to make it seem as if Food Wars still had to be earned, as if it was a challenge. “They just want to come check us out to start. Probably nothing will come of it. I mean, once they see this place . . .”
Her mother, who had been looking thoughtfully at Andy, swung her eyes back to Amanda, squaring her shoulders. Too far, damn it. Andy started to speak again—really, for a probable meth head with tattoo sleeves and as many piercings as he had, he was a strangely bubbly guy—and this time Amanda shot him a deadly glare. He needed to shut up, and he needed to do it now.
The expected explosion never came. Instead, Barbara took a very visible deep breath, then looked from Amanda to Andy, as if weighing their relative merits. Her eyes narrowed as she asked the question Amanda had been praying would not come up. “What does Mae think of all this?”
“I don’t know, Mom. I haven’t asked her.” And she wasn’t planning to. She didn’t need Mae’s help with this one. In fact, she needed Mae to stay far away, which shouldn’t be a problem.
Barbara turned to Andy. “I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that my other daughter, Mae, has been doing something that sounds like this Food Wars. At least, it’s a show on television. Reality television. Sparkling, I think it’s called.”
Andy’s face lit up. “Wait, Sparkling? Your daughter is Mae Moore? Mae Moore who wrote the big clutter book?”
Barbara seemed pleased, but Amanda rolled her eyes. There was no way this project of her mother’s, washed up for who knew what reason in the backwaters of Kansas and probably living in the trailer park east of town, knew who Mae was.
Andy grinned. “There’s a girl who can declutter my underwear drawer anytime.”
He had a real gift for the conversation stopper. Barbara looked at him strangely, and Amanda intensified her glare.
Andy caught himself immediately. “It’s a quote! From a column, by this guy, he mostly writes about sports, but every year he does this whole holiday thing about hating the Williams-Sonoma catalog. And she was in it— Never mind.” Andy’s face was genuinely red, and against her better judgment Amanda found herself softening toward him. “It’s probably not what he should have said either. Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
He read. He hated the Williams-Sonoma catalog. He could tell, at least kind of, when he was being an asshole. Amanda was starting to get Mary Laura’s crackers-in-bed call, but seriously, he liked Mae? Apparently, he couldn’t see through a selfish, superficial fraud. At least that meant he couldn’t possibly have actually watched Sparkling. Amanda had, and Mae was a disaster on it—stiff and fake and judgmental. One more reason Merinac was better off without her.
Barbara turned back to Amanda. “I think I’d like to know what Mae thinks,” she said, and then, as if that wasn’t enough: “Actually, I think