Playing House

by Laura Chapman

  Chapter Two

  Paige couldn’t stop gushing. Not only did Bailey’s interview not have some dark ulterior motive behind it, but her baby sister was actually going to work for one of her favorite shows. Not that she could ever know any specifics. Bailey had signed a confidentiality agreement before leaving the office, but Paige was still thrilled.

  “It’s been all over the blogs. I can’t believe I didn’t guess. Playing House is filming in Austin this season. Mom and I were already hatching a plan about how we were going to find a way to get ourselves onto the sets. Now we won’t have to resort to trickery. We have a real, honest to God in.”

  Bailey just shook her head and went back to neatly placing clothes in her overnight bag. There wasn’t any point in trying to convince Paige that her new job didn’t come with a full-access pass for family and friends to drop by whenever they wanted. She’d make her see the rationale later, but right now she had plenty to manage on her own. She was heading home to Dallas in the morning. During the next couple of weeks, she’d have to pack up her apartment and quit her job.

  None of it seemed real. This morning, she’d been on her way to a job interview. Now . . . well, it was hard to explain. While she’d never had ambitions of being on TV—and she was more convinced than ever that the shows were smoke and mirrors—there was no denying what a great opportunity this was for her career.

  Maybe it wouldn’t “matter” quite in the way working for a sustainable construction design firm had. But it would matter for the show’s customers. She’d be helping them build the home of their dreams, and that was important work.

  “I can’t believe you aren’t more excited. You’re going to be on TV.”

  It was hard not to laugh at the near reverence in her voice. “Actually, I’ll be working as support behind the scenes. There’s no guarantee I’ll ever appear on-screen.”

  “At least you’ll get to hang out with Wilder and Waverly all the time.” She flipped through a home improvement magazine with a cover story featuring the couple. “That hardly seems like work. You should be paying them for the opportunity.”

  With her bag packed, Bailey pulled out a notebook and started a list. She’d need to figure out what clothing and supplies she’d bring along for the season. Everything else would go up for sale on Craigslist or into storage at their mama’s house in Smithville until after filming wrapped.

  Normally she wouldn’t care much about what to wear, but she wanted to make a good impression. She wasn’t sure what they’d expect from her as an assistant, and she needed options.

  If it was like her current workplace, she’d need more suit variations. But this wasn’t the same thing. Should she go with a wardrobe of knit T-shirts and tennis shoes to create the illusion of being a laid-back, laissez-faire designer? Or should she try for something more upscale? Like the faux leather leggings Paige had insisted she buy paired with silky tunics and high-heeled boots. Or should she dress like herself—in chambray and plaid shirts with faded jeans. Classic Texas.

  She’d take some of everything just in case. She could always visit her mama on the weekend to trade out her clothes.

  Paige had offered to help Bailey prepare for her new life. So far, she hadn’t contributed much beyond going on and on about how much she loved Playing House. And how Waverly was the best designer ever. And that Wilder was so dreamy, and she was totally jealous Bailey would be working with that delicious eye candy.

  It was her way of being supportive.

  Still digging through the Playing House cover story, Paige suddenly bolted up. “Why do they need someone like you on the team? Doesn’t Waverly do her own designs?”

  Bailey lingered over her packing list while she considered the question. It was tricky. She still wasn’t entirely sure how it worked. It wasn’t really appropriate to make any conjectures either. It didn’t seem right to speculate—out loud—on something that could be damning to her new employer.

  Erring on the side of caution, she gave a partial answer. “I’m guessing I’ll be there as a local consultant. They have a lot of local people on the team. A local contractor. Local work crew. Waverly is from Canada, right? Maybe she likes to have someone who’s more in touch with regional styles.”

  “That makes some kind of sense.”

  “And maybe she likes having another creative-type to bounce ideas back and forth with. That sort of a thing.”

  Or, as Bailey suspected, maybe she didn’t produce all the designs but served as the face for them on camera. That was a hunch—though not out of the question based on the verbiage in the contract she’d signed. And the careful way Renee talked around the issue when she’d explained the job after the interview. Bailey didn’t doubt Waverly’s ability to design. She couldn’t fathom how someone could manage so many projects while also maintaining a lifestyle website, going on speaking tours, and publishing a book. Plus, she was a wife and mother. It was too much for one person to do alone.

  If she was correct, she’d have to make peace with letting someone else publicly take credit for her work. That was something she would need to put a lot of effort into these next weeks—along with her packing list.

  On the one hand, she’d actually get the chance to design something that was used. Someone would listen to her ideas and she’d see the tangible results. She’d be an artist creating.

  On the other . . . did any of that matter if she couldn’t include the before-and-after photos in her portfolio? Would the experience—and paycheck—be enough?

  “I can’t believe you actually met Wilder Aldrich—in the flesh.”

  “As opposed to something else?” Bailey muttered under her breath.

  “How’s that?”

  “Nothing. It wasn’t like we really met. We barely said anything to each other and no one said, ‘Bailey meet Wilder.’”

  “Those are semantics. You actually talked to him. Do you know how many people would kill just to see him?”

  “I should probably be embarrassed for not recognizing him.” Though, now that she recalled it, he hadn’t seemed to mind her ignorance.

  “Are you going to do any research before you start?”

  “On what? I haven’t even seen the houses we’re working on yet.”

  “No, you’re good on the interior design front.” Tossing the magazine aside, Paige leaned back on her elbows. “I meant, are you going to watch any old episodes of the show to get a better idea of who you’re working for?”

  “Do you think it’ll make much difference?”

  “You’d know more about Wilder and Waverly.”

  “Maybe they’d prefer me to be in the dark. I did tell them I don’t watch any of the shows on the network.”

  “Wouldn’t you feel better going in with a little more background on your new employers?”

  Now that was something she hadn’t considered. And she should have. She was a bit uneasy about spending the next six months of her life working for virtual strangers. It was so not something she’d normally do. If it was a job with another firm, Bailey would have spent hours getting her hands on every bit of information she could, including their past, present, and prospective clients.

  By binge-watching highlights from the past few seasons, she’d be doing the same thing.

  “Okay.” She set her to-do list aside. “Let’s watch some TV.”

  ***

  She shouldn’t watch another episode. It was well after three in the morning, and they’d gone through at least eight. They only paused long enough to order a pizza and take a few restroom breaks to maximize their time.

  It hadn’t been all fun. More than a few times, Paige got annoyed with Bailey for spending so much of the first episodes scoffing and explaining how improbable everything was.

  Like the fabric Waverly supposedly found in a vintage shop. “There’s no way they ‘just found’ that fabric in that store. It’s a new vintage-inspired print. She got it online.”

  Or the foundation issues that magically app
eared halfway through the renovation. “It’s possible an inspector might miss something like that. But if Wilder is a real pro, he would’ve known right away. They probably only mentioned it now to add drama.”

  And the outrageously warped wood on the back deck that magically appeared after a little rainstorm. “Wood will expand if it’s left untreated. But if you’re spending that kind of money on materials and labor, wouldn’t you check the weather forecast before you leave the raw wood uncovered overnight?”

  By the third or fourth episode, she was less and less focused on the absurdities. Because no matter how many times an old house had bad plumbing, and no matter how many times a homeowner wanted an open-concept kitchen, there was something compelling about the show. It wasn’t the differences between the before-and-after shots, though the work was stunning. (Whoever actually did it had skills.)

  It was Wilder and Waverly’s dynamic. He was the lovable goof who only worried when it came to staying on budget. And she was the taskmaster with big dreams, no matter the cost. They were each a juxtaposition on their own. When paired together, well, it made for good TV. Some people who differed that much might drive each other nuts, but they found some kind of balance. They were funny and engaging. And, okay, Paige was right when she told her how cute Virginia was on-screen.

  The two of them were lucky they’d found each other. According to their intro in the first episode, Wilder had moved to New York from Texas when he was twenty-two. He quickly found work and developed his craft. Meanwhile, Waverly, a Toronto native, was finishing up her studies at the Parsons School and worked for a prominent interior designer for internship credit. Sparks flew, and they went out on a couple of dates. While romancing each other, they also discovered they worked well together. After she graduated, they went into business together, she started her home improvement blog, and they started a family.

  They’d worked hard to get where they were. You had to admire that. And she had to remind herself of that, even as a twinge of jealousy flared. It wasn’t like she wanted to run a blog or have a TV show. She just liked the idea of getting to be her own boss and doing what she loved every day.

  The end credits rolled as another happy family sat down to dinner in their newly redesigned home. Paige lifted the remote control, silently asking what they should do. They really shouldn’t keep going, but it was way too easy to hit “next episode.”

  “Go for it. But this has to be it.”

  She smirked and started up another episode. “I told you it was a good show. Aren’t you excited to work for them?”

  Bailey was, actually. But she wouldn’t say it out loud.

  ***

  It probably wasn’t cool for a man going on thirty to admit, but Wilder was excited to spend the weekend with his parents. They were driving up from Sugar Land for some quality time with him and Virginia before filming began.

  It had been a couple of months since he saw them at Christmas when they’d come to Toronto. Waverley had wanted Virginia to spend Christmas at home, and they were already Texas-bound for the next season of the show. His folks had been good sports about the whole thing, but it still felt weird to spend a holiday anywhere but Texas. Even though he hadn’t lived in the state in more than eight years, it was still his home.

  He wasn’t the only one excited for the mini-family reunion. Virginia could hardly wait for her grandparents to arrive. When his mama had called to say they were almost there, his daughter had practically dragged him to the motel lobby so they could wait and watch his dad’s big truck pull up.

  “Do I really get to go to the farm with Nana and Pops?”

  He chuckled at her description of his parents’ house. It wasn’t really a farm. They lived in a suburb, not the country. While they had Duke, a massive and spoiled yellow Lab, they didn’t raise any other animals. And their only crops came from his mama’s kitchen garden.

  But when you mostly lived in Toronto, a sprawling house with a big backyard seemed like a farm.

  “That’s right.” He gave her a little squeeze. “They’re going to stay here with us for a couple of days. Then you’ll get to go back to Sugar Land with them for a few weeks.”

  Which would be good on a few levels. For one, it gave Virginia a chance to hang out with her grandparents while her parents finalized the details on another season of their TV show. It also meant they could let the nanny have a few weeks of vacation before things got hectic again.

  “Sugar Land. I’m going to eat so much candy.”

  She probably would. While Sugar Land was not in fact an exact replica of Candy Land, she’d figure that out for herself once she realized the dirt wasn’t chocolate pudding and the house wasn’t made of gingerbread and candy canes. But considering she’d be with her grandma, it was more likely than not she’d get more than her fair share of candy. He’d best not tell Waverly that part.

  “Hey!” He pointed at the truck pulling up in front of the lobby entrance. “Guess who’s here?”

  “Nana and Pops!” Virginia jumped out of her seat and raced for the automatic sliding doors.

  He chased after to make sure she didn’t run in front of any cars. After her fearless encounter during the interview that day, he’d already decided they needed to enforce more of a “stranger danger” approach to her interactions with people. And now, watching her run into a parking lot, he’d need to make sure she understood she couldn’t go running somewhere without paying attention to her surroundings.

  Then there was her candy fixation. Parenting was hard.

  He caught up with Virginia a second after his mama hopped out of the truck and scooped her into a hug. Points for Mama with the save.

  “How’s my little bumble bee?” she asked, curling her arms around Virginia’s little body. “Are you staying busy?”

  “Bzz bzz.”

  They shared a laugh at their inside joke. “That’s what I like to hear.” His mama caught Wilder’s gaze, and then the joy on her face was for him. She extended an arm to draw him in for a hug. “And how’s my baby boy?”

  “Wah wah?”

  “Very cute.” Despite his smart-ass response, she pulled him closer. Again, he’d lose cool points for admitting it, but this was nice. Only a cuddle from Virginia compared to getting one from his mama. She lowered her voice. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m great. Glad to be back in Texas.”

  “You know, the Lone Star State will gladly take you back full-time if you ever decide you’ve had it with the Great White North or this gypsy lifestyle of yours.”

  “That’s a mighty fine offer,” he said, adopting a deep Texas twang that he only had a hint of before defecting to the north. “And we’re much obliged I’m sure. But I doubt Waverly would go for that.”

  Mama released her hold on him and glanced through the glass doors into the lobby. “Speaking of Ms. Waverly, where is she?”

  “Last-minute trip to New York City. She’s been spending a lot of weekends there lately.”

  She studied his face. “Is that a fact?”

  “She’ll be back soon,” he replied as a work-around to actually answering her question. “We’re bringing in a new assistant in the next couple of weeks. Then we’re going to find our project house for the season.”

  Before she followed up and pried out a few more details, Virginia demanded attention. “Daddy says I get to go with you. I’ve never been to a Sugar Land.”

  “Not for some time,” he corrected. He nodded toward the lobby. “How about you ladies wait inside where it’s warm. You can get your room key. I’ll help with the luggage.”

  “That sounds like a plan.” She eased Virginia back to the ground and took her hand. “I’ll tell you more about what trouble we can get into when you come for your visit.”

  “Mommy and Daddy say I’m supposed to stay out of trouble.”

  “That’s good advice. But the rules don’t always apply when you’re visiting Nana and Pops.”

  “Ohhh . . .”

  Leav
ing his mama and daughter to their scheming, Wilder went in search of his father. He pulled his jacket closer. A cold front had blown into Central Texas. Of course, it was nothing compared to the winters he’d lived through in New York and Toronto. But there was enough of a chill to bite his nose and have him wishing for a heavier jacket. Only a few minutes earlier, Virginia had been thrilled to discover she could see her breath when she blew air out. Still, they wouldn’t have to worry about scraping their windshields in the morning. That was a definite plus to filming in greater Austin rather than Chicago, which had been the original plan.

  He was usually pretty flexible about their show. He was in it for the projects and to support his family. The other factors didn’t matter as much. But he’d given Renee a firm “hell no” when she’d pitched Chicago in February. And for a nice change, Waverly had actually sided with him rather than arguing.

  His father was already lifting a suitcase out of the truck by the time Wilder reached him. “Hey, Pops. Let me give you a hand.”

  “I’ve got it,” he insisted, even while he groaned under the weight of a suitcase. “Your mama never knew the meaning of packing light.”

  “Well, she never knows when she might want the red or blue scarf to go with her chunky boots or flats.”

  Pops let out a snort and stepped back to let Wilder take the rolling case. Once it was settled on the ground, his father threw an arm around his shoulders and gave his back a firm pat. “How’s it goin’, son?”

  “Can’t complain.”

  He gave one more pat, then picked up a small duffel bag. “It’s good to see you.”

  “It is.” Wilder leaned back on his heels. “How was the drive up?”

  “Can’t complain.”

  “How’s business?”

  “Good. Now that folks have their feet back beneath them, we’re getting more requests for new construction. That makes the crew happy. But . . .”

  Pops didn’t finish, but Wilder knew what he was thinking. New construction was great for business. That’s what his construction company was formed to do more than twenty-five years ago. But to make ends meet, and to avoid having to lay off everyone—even though there were plenty of employees who left for greener pastures—they took on more remodeling and fixer-upper gigs the past few years. Pops had always liked those kinds of projects.