Stipulations and Complications

by Becki Willis

  Stipulations and Complications

  becki willis

  Copyright © 2016 Becki Willis

  Clear Creek Publishers

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, shared, or reproduced without written consent from the author. This is a work of fiction. All characters, businesses and interaction with these people and places are purely fictional and a figment of the writer’s imagination.

  ISBN: 1532956258

  ISBN-13: 978-1532956256

  Books by Becki Willis

  He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not

  Forgotten Boxes (Best Suspense of 2016, Association of Texas Authors)

  Mirrors Don’t Lie Series

  The Girl from Her Mirror, Book 1

  Mirror, Mirror on Her Wall, Book 2

  Light from Her Mirror, Book 3

  The Sisters, Texas Series (Best Mystery Series of 2016, Association of Texas Authors)

  Chicken Scratch, Book 1

  When the Stars Fall, Book 2

  Coming this fall: Home Again: Starting Over, Book 4

  Books by Becki Willis

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Note from Author

  Questions for Book Club Discussion

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Life comes with stipulations.

  If you want to fit into last year’s swimsuit, you can’t have ice cream and a Gennydoodle cookie after every meal.

  If you want to go to heaven, you can’t raise hell on Saturday night and show up in the church pew on Sunday morning, hungover and reeking of cheap perfume.

  And if you want your hundred-year-old mansion completely updated and remodeled for free, you have to sacrifice.

  Stipulations, my child.

  Granny Bert’s words of wisdom resonated in Madison Reynold’s head.

  Not for the first time, her mind balked at the logic. Why did the sacrifices have to include her privacy and what was left of her hard-earned sanity? What had she been thinking?

  In just seven short weeks, her life had exploded. Again. And this time, it was on national television.

  When Madison agreed to the unprecedented proposal two months ago, she had no idea of the whirlwind she set into motion. Tornadoes were known to touch down with less disruption than the ruckus caused by a TV reality show filmed in The Sisters.

  For the price of baring her soul in front of millions of viewers, HOME TV’s new make-over series was bringing the old house into the twenty-first century. It would give her a better-than-new, because-it-was-historically-old home, all without spending a dime. All the network required was her life story, splashed across the television screen. Her secrets. What was left of her dignity.

  Stipulations, Madison reminded herself. There are always stipulations.

  She, of course, had stipulations of her own. No filming inside the bedrooms. No filming of private conversations. No disrupting school or church. No encouraging the dramatic exploits of the town and members of her own family. No sneaking in footage without her consent. She had a half dozen other stipulations, some of which were actually met.

  Today was a perfect example of the chaos she had created. The Home Again: Starting Over film crew was on scene, shooting a segment about the outside of the old mansion. While show host and head carpenter Nick Vilardi explained the process, a crew of five men worked behind him, replacing rotted wood, nailing down loose boards, and preparing the house for its first new coat of paint in over thirty years. To the delight of the mostly female crowd gathered alongside the elaborate iron fence out front, the usual workers had been replaced by younger, more muscular counterparts sporting broad shoulders and nice behinds, all of which were turned toward the camera. The women crowding along the sidewalk had no qualms about ogling the men so publicly nor, anytime the cameras rested, throwing out crude suggestions, telephone numbers, and enthusiastic catcalls. One went so far as to throw her bra.

  Filming stopped twice due to the noise. A third interruption ensued when Abigail Combs broke free of the barriers and ran up the cobblestone path, chasing her wayward kitten. Because the child was only six, her antics were excused. Then her older sister came sauntering up the walk after her, dressed in ridiculously short shorts, a skimpy halter top, and heels high enough to cause a nosebleed. Security officers shooed the teenager away and threatened to clear the sidewalk if they heard another peep from the audience. Even from where she stood across the street, Madison could hear the angry rumble of the crowd, but eventually the people quieted and filming resumed.

  This was not the first incident of such nature, nor would it be the last. With all the cameras, crew, and now spectators in town, the residents of the community put on quite the performance. Madison could only imagine the madness to come, once the show aired on a weekly basis.

  When Nick asked her to come down to make final color selections for the exterior, the show host neglected to mention it would take place on camera. The moment she turned onto Main and saw the crowd, Madison knew they were filming again. A quick glance down at her outfit had her wishing she had worn something different from khaki capris and a solid navy tee. Not that her limited wardrobe offered much better, but this was just so … plain.

  That’s me, plain ol’ Maddy.

  As owner of the house, she had every right to pull up to the electronic gate and drive inside the premises. But the last time she had done so, an overzealous fan had slipped in alongside her and caused quite the scene. Rather than fight the crowd and call attention to herself, she would stay here and watch from a distance, then quietly slip in among the crowd. She actually preferred to stay on the perimeters of the camera lens; just a few weeks in, but already, she had her fill of stardom.

  Madison lounged against the side of her car as she watched the crowd gathered in front of the Big House. That’s what locals had called Juliet Randolph Blakely’s home since it was built a century ago, dominating an entire city block and then some. Since it was the woman’s own town and namesake, she could do anything she wanted, and she wanted the biggest and best house in town. Never mind that an identical one was built across the railroad tracks for her sister, in her own namesake town of Naomi. Even though the homes looked alike, each house was as different as the women themselves.

  Three stories tall, the Big House’s original structure boasted no less than five porches, two turrets, and three chimneys. Across the front, the old mansion still looked much the same. In the back, however, a porch was sacrificed to add a third turret that housed new bathrooms on all three levels. The years had taken their toll upon the house, but with the help of Nick Vilardi and crew, the stately old mansion was not only getting back into shape, it was shaping up better than ever.

  “So? What color did you decide on?”

  Absorbed in watching the antics of the town, Madison did not hear her best friend approach. She whirled around when she heard Genesis Baker’s voice, her lips already pus
hing upward in a smile. “Genny! You were able to make it, after all.”

  “What’s the point in owning your own business if you can’t slip in and out at will?” Her friend gave a nonchalant shrug, as if escaping the busy restaurant so close to noon were no great feat.

  “I know it’s bad timing for you, but I appreciate the support.”

  “You know I’ve always got your back, girlfriend.” Genny flashed her dimpled smile as she hooked her arm through Madison’s.

  They stood along the perimeters for a long moment, watching the filming. “Where did all the hot bods come from?” Genesis asked after a moment. “Those aren’t the usual carpenters, are they?”

  Madison’s bark of laughter lacked amusement. “Hardly. These are the on-camera carpenters, the ones that look best with their shirts off and their pants cinched up nice and tight.”

  “At least we don’t have to worry about saying no to crack,” Genny quipped. She eyed a few of the men more closely. “Mmm. You gotta admit, though, they are one fine-looking crew. I wonder if we could get these to come every day…”

  After a long and wistful moment, the women sighed in unison and dismissed the notion.

  “Too distracting,” Madison murmured.

  “And too tempting. As much as I’d like to, I can’t leave every day to come down here and ogle the men. I do have to work, after all.”

  “Speaking of work, I have a couple of new clients.”

  “Oh? Who this time?” Even though they carried on a normal conversation, their eyes were on the handsome crew parading around the mansion. With uncanny precision, each time the camera panned toward the house, one of the buff carpenters would strategically bend at the waist or flex his bulging biceps. Even from this distance, it was far easier to focus on the men than on the house.

  “Miss Sybille was so pleased with the backyard fence Derron built, that two of her neighbors have hired us to continue the fence along their properties.”

  Genny bobbed her blond head. “Hiring Derron was a good move on your part.”

  This time when Maddy laughed, there was genuine humor in the sound. “To be honest, I’m not sure if I hired him, or he hired me. And even though In a Pinch Temp Services is barely solvent at the moment, having Derron has been a tremendous help. I wouldn’t know the first thing about building fences.”

  “And he came with his own tools,” Genesis reminded her.

  “Definitely a plus. And in a roundabout way, he’s also responsible for another potential client, Allen Wynn. Even though Derron closed his mother’s business when she died, he still has access to her files, and one of the last properties she surveyed was Allen’s. Allen wants to pursue the boundary dispute between him and Hank Adams, and he’s hinted at hiring me before going to a lawyer.”

  “That’s wonderful. See, things are starting to fall into place.”

  “We’ll see about that,” she murmured skeptically. “Speaking of Derron… With all these good-looking carpenters strutting around, I’m really surprised he’s not here himself, getting an eyeful.” Madison stood on her tiptoes and stretched her five-foot, seven-inch frame, trying to get a glimpse of Derron Mullins.

  “I think you spoke too soon. Isn’t that him?”

  “Where?”

  “Up there.” With a wide grin, Genesis pointed to an old pecan tree with low, sweeping limbs. “In the tree.”

  “Oh, Lordy, that is him!”

  The women burst out laughing, amused by the younger man’s antics. He enjoyed watching the buff carpenters as much as any female in attendance.

  “It looks like they’re wrapping up this particular segment,” Madison noted. “I guess it will be my turn next.”

  “Don’t sound so excited.”

  Madison nibbled on her lower lip. “Sometimes I think I made a huge mistake, agreeing to all this.” She swept her arm toward the milling crowd. With the cameras off, the jovial heckling began again.

  “Maddy, look at that place. Even though Granny Bert practically gave you the house, there’s no way you could have fixed it up on your own. You needed a place for you and the twins to start over. You did the only thing you could do under the circumstances.”

  “I guess. But I didn’t just do this to myself. I dragged all of you along into this mess with me. You, the twins, Granny Bert… the whole town, really. Sometimes I feel so guilty.”

  “For what? In case you haven’t noticed, the town is lapping up all this attention like a starved puppy. Blake and Bethani are adjusting, and I’ve never seen Granny Bert this happy, not even the time Willie Nelson wrote a song about her. She may have retired as mayor, but your grandmother is a people person, and she loves being in front of a camera.”

  “Which is a problem unto itself, but we won’t go there now. But honestly, Genny, I’m sorry if this has made your life harder. I know people are swarming into New Beginnings now, hoping to be on camera.”

  “Hey, it’s good for business,” the café owner shrugged. “I will admit I’m still getting used to having the camera in there all the time. Reality television can be a little unnerving, never knowing what they’ll choose to broadcast to a million or so strangers, but the cash registers are keeping up a nice steady cha-ching.” She tossed her head and flashed another dimpled smile. “So it’s all good.”

  Genesis owned New Beginnings Café, a popular eatery that resided on the Naomi side of the railroad tracks. Even before fame came to the neighboring communities — collectively known as The Sisters — the café had become the prime gathering spot for both towns. People came for the good food, eclectic menu, friendly atmosphere, and scrumptious desserts; the possible chance at television fame was like getting a delicious side order for free.

  “You know, when Nick and Amanda first mentioned the idea of doing a reality television show, I laughed in their faces. There are only two thousand residents in both towns combined. We don’t have a Starbucks, there’s no McDonald’s, not even a Wal-Mart. By all rights, The Sisters is a boring little rural community. Why would anyone want to watch us on TV?” Madison gazed at the array of cameras and technical equipment scattered across the lawn, all a necessary part of broadcasting her private life to the eyes of the public. “Who knew it could be so entertaining? The pilot episode broke some sort of record for the network.”

  “I think that’s part of the charm. We’re just a normal, boring little town with normal, boring little people. But Amanda Hooper is a brilliant producer. She did a ton of promoting for the new season. She knows exactly what to play up, exactly what to exploit. If occasionally one of our people becomes famous, it gives hope to all the other little towns out there filled with their own normal, boring citizens. If it can happen to us, it can happen to them.”

  “I noticed she artfully downplayed how Caress, our most famous citizen and daytime star, was just brutally murdered at the hands of her secret lover,” Madison commented wryly.

  “Ah, but did you notice how she played up the fact that John Paul Nobles was heartbroken over her death? Interviewing him on the set of his latest movie — in Paris, no less — and having him share memories of The Sisters was a nice touch.”

  “Except for the part about him and Caress almost buying the Big House,” Madison frowned. “The house has never been on the market, not once in its one-hundred-year history! Miss Juliet built the house, left it to Granny Bert when she died in the 80s, and now I’m only the third person to ever own it. He and Caress may have wanted to buy it, but Granny Bert would never have considered selling to them.”

  “What is it they call that, artistic license? Sort of like pretending Glitter Thompson was originally from here, when everyone knows her Vegas-ceremony husband met her at a show and dragged her back here after their second date. That famous showgirl has roots in Milwaukee, not The Sisters.”

  “Details,” Madison said breezily. “Why clog the issue with pesky little details? She put a nice aw-shucks spin on Brash, too. Local football hero hits the big time when he’s drafted by t
he NFL, gives it up to marry his high school sweetheart, goes on to coach at premier universities, then gives that up, too, to come home to The Sisters and pin on a shiny silver star.” She batted her eyelashes for dramatic emphasis.

  “And if the woman didn’t have an obvious crush on the man, she would be playing up the would-be romance between you and said football hero, instead of trying to insinuate something between you and Nick.”

  This time when Maddy blinked her lashes, it was in genuine surprise. “You think she has a crush on Brash?” Dismay colored her voice with a husky note.

  “Oh, please. The minute she heard he was divorced, her eyes lit up like neon. I genuinely like Amanda, but I’m telling you, she genuinely likes your man.”

  “Brash deCordova is not my man,” Madison fairly snapped.

  “Again, details.” Genny flashed a smile to soften her retort. “He’s crazy over you, Maddy. And you’re crazy over him. You’re just afraid to admit it.”

  “What I’m afraid of is trusting another man so completely, only to have him trample on my heart and soul like it was yesterday’s trash.” Her voice was hard.

  “Brash would never do that, and you know it. He’s nothing like Gray. You just have to trust him.”

  “Says the woman afraid to trust her own knight in shining armor,” Madison shot back.

  Genny shifted uncomfortably. “We’re not talking about me; we’re talking about you. And I see Nick coming this way, probably looking for you. It’s show-time, sister.”

  ***

  The old mansion had always been white.

  The infamous structure, with its pristine elegance and haughty airs, sat alone on its corner lot, as cool and inaccessible as the ghosts said to haunt it. Madison knew the first step in turning the old house into a warm and inviting home started with curb appeal, but she was having trouble committing to a color scheme. It was important to convey the right personality through paint choice.

  Madison immediately ruled out yellow, citing the Bumble Bee Hotel on the other side of the tracks. Naomi’s version of this same house was painted a robust yellow with black trim and offered a bit too much personality for Madison’s liking.