Free A Man of Influence by Melinda Curtis Page A

the video.
    â€œDon’t back out. You’ll do fine,” Jess said kindly, because she could see a silver lining in the darkest of rainclouds. “It’s the right job for you. I can feel it.”
    Tracy couldn’t feel anything but failure, like a gaping chasm at her frozen feet. If she moved toward this job, she’d almost certainly go down, down, down. And splat.
    â€œMy father used to make family movies back in the fifties.” Eunice made it sound as if her father was a well-renowned director. “Would you like to see some? I bet you could learn something.”
    If Eunice’s father had made artistic films back in the 1950s when Tracy couldn’t bring herself to make a home video, she might have to give up looking for a new career permanently. Better not risk it. “Thanks, but no thanks.” Tracy eyed the cooling oatmeal raisin cookies on the center island. Sugar always made her feel better, but sugar solved nothing. “I don’t see the point...in me making the video. They want someone who can talk.”
    Eunice tsked. “You talk just fine.”
    â€œNot as much as before.”
    â€œYou have no problem communicating with me or our customers.” Jess wiped her hands on a white tea towel with apples embroidered on it, unaware that her words and Eunice’s made Tracy feel better. “Nobody’s perfect. My teeth are prone to cavities. Eunice needs reading glasses.”
    Eunice bristled. “I do not need reading glasses to read.”
    â€œLook at the time.” Jess smiled mischievously at Tracy. “Can you drizzle icing on these Bundts while I make Duffy lunch? He’ll be here soon.” Duffy being Jessica’s husband and the winery’s field manager.
    â€œI glob,” Tracy warned, passing the cookies on her way to the sink.
    â€œSqueeze slow, move fast.” Jess wasn’t taking no for an answer. She removed a tray of sourdough rolls from the oven and set them on the counter. The rolls were destined for Giordanos Café across the street for their lunch crowd.
    â€œDuffy likes my peanut butter and jelly,” Tracy said as she washed her hands.
    â€œNot as much as he likes cream of broccoli soup in a bread bowl.” Jess opened a plastic bag full of pumpernickel rounds. And then she stopped, fixing Tracy with a serious look. “You have to try. Promise me you’ll try and make a video. Your brother showed me some of the commercials you worked on in the past. You were good, really good. You can still be good, just in a different way. It’s like...me trying a new recipe.”
    â€œLike Horseradish-Doodles,” Eunice whispered. “Something new, but still by you.”
    With her back to Eunice, Jess exchanged a private smile with Tracy. “Yes, it’s just like that.”
    Under the influence of their positive words, Tracy felt some of the weight fall from her shoulders. “All right, all right. I’ll do it.” Tracy picked up the icing bag and assumed the ready position, hand over the first mini Bundt. And then she hesitated, picturing globs instead of smooth thin lines of frosting.
    â€œDon’t over-think,” Eunice said.
    Easy for Eunice to say. She was better with the baby than with Bundt cakes.
    Jess glanced up from carving a bowl in the pumpernickel loaf. She made a swift back and forth gesture with one hand. “Squeeze slow, move fast.”
    Tracy did as instructed, completing the task with a minimum of globs. “I can make the deliveries.” The Bundt cakes and rolls.
    â€œOkay.” Jess gave Tracy a stare she probably thought was stern, but Jess wasn’t the stern stare sort. “But then you work on your video. No excuses.”
    â€œNo excuses,” Tracy agreed, trying not to think about all the ways she could humiliate herself during this interview process, on screen and off.
    * * *
    â€œW HAT DO YOU think of Chad?” Agnes asked