“The goats,” Reena responded. “Careful with your fingers. Apparently they nibble.”
They found Doug in the barn. A strapping man with brown hair, he looked like he’d lived his life on this farm. After introducing himself, the princesses, and a Labrador retriever named Whiskey, Doug started chatting with his son about plans for upgrades to the building and the chicken coops, while Nadim scratched the dog behind his ears.
He dropped to his knees to get closer. “I miss my dogs in Africa. We always had German shepherds. Technically guard dogs, but they were always such sweethearts.” Interesting. Reena hadn’t been allowed a dog growing up.
A loud voice from outside prevented her from analyzing this new information. “This place is cuter than a Fisher-Price farm.”
Reena laughed. “Sounds like Shayne and Marley made it.”
After another round of introductions and a round of coffee served with homemade muffins, they were finally able to set up the barn. Doug found a large wooden folding table, which they placed in the middle of the room and covered with a cream linen tablecloth. A single-burner butane stove would suffice for cooking the egg curry, and Reena had brought her enormous wood chopping board for food prep. Marley added a few artfully arranged kitchen tools she snagged from Shirley’s kitchen and some cut flowers in old pottery, while Shayne plugged in the studio lights.
“Ready,” he said. “Go change, and then we can start initial shots of you two with the chickens and goats before we start cooking.”
For Nadim’s outfit, they’d picked a cream cable-knit fisherman’s sweater and paired it with his well-worn jeans. For Reena, dark skinny jeans and gray boots (thankfully her own this time), paired with a subtly embroidered teal cotton kurta-style top and a worn gray denim jacket. After a quick touch-up of makeup and a de-frizz of her hair, they were ready.
“Action!” Shayne yelled once they were in place.
“Howdy, folks!” Nadim said with a definite country drawl. Reena raised one brow at him.
“What?” he said, clearly hamming a bit for the camera. “When in Rome, right?”
“We’re not in Rome,” Reena said, looking directly at the camera. “But we are far from home! First, thank you to all the viewers who voted for us in round one. We’re excited to be in round two because the theme is farm-to-table!”
“So, we put a big table in the middle of a farm!” Nadim said, cheerily. “My beautiful bride-to-be here is going to teach me how to make a dish my grandmother made for me as a child—Zanzibar egg curry. But first, I’m going to teach her how to collect fresh eggs.”
“Wait, you’re going to teach me what? I thought the farm people would just…give us eggs.” She now questioned Nadim’s insistence that they not rehearse this bit. She didn’t know she’d have to touch chickens. “How doyouknow how to collect eggs?”
“I’m a renaissance man. C’mon.” He picked up a basket and motioned her over to the corner of the barn where the chickens were. Shayne followed, carrying the camera.
“My boarding school in England had a chicken coop. We used to gather eggs all the time. It’s easy. Here, I’ll bet this pretty lady has an egg or two under her.”
Reena frowned, looking at the pretty lady in question. A shiny black bird with angry eyes and a red comb on her head, she was sitting in one of the nest boxes, scowling at them. At least that’s what it looked like. Unless she had resting-bitch chicken face.
“There are eggs here. We don’t have to bother her,” Reena said, indicating the neighboring chicken-less nest box, which had a few eggs nestled in hay in it. She picked up one gingerly and placed it in Nadim’s basket.
“Her name’s Agatha,” Duncan called out from behind Shayne.
“Cut!” Shayne turned and glared at Duncan. “Can you maybe,not, speak when I’m filming?”
Amira laughed loudly, pulling Duncan further away from the others.
“I thought you’d need the chicken’s name,” Duncan said. “Careful, though. Agatha’s a bit frisky.”
Reena put her hand on her hips and turned to Nadim. “See! That’s why you shouldn’t stick your hand under her butt.”
“Oh, I am absolutely not sticking my hand under her butt. You are.”
Before Reena could object again, Shayne yelled, “Action!”
“It’s easy,” Nadim said. “Just reach under her and take out the egg. She won’t bite.”
“She probablywillbite,” Duncan yelled from the other end of the barn. Shayne motioned for Duncan to shut it but didn’t stop filming.
“If she does bite, it won’t hurt. Just a peck. Trust me,” Nadim said.
Reena reached in. “Okay. I’m not going to hurt you, Agatha,” she murmured, skimming the bird’s soft plumage. “I just want your egg…you don’t need it. It’s not fertilized so I’m not stealing your baby. Just slide over a bit and—”
It was at that moment that Reena began questioning her life’s choices. Because being recorded for a national cooking show while getting pecked at with vigor by an angry chicken named Agatha, while her fake fiancé/real boyfriend howled in laughter seemed like a situation that could have been avoided with a bit of forethought.
