The Husband Maker Boxed Set

by White, Karey

  By almost every measure, Kyle fits the bill. He’s wealthy (of course), he’s movie star handsome, and he’s bright. The only real problem? He’s single. Certainly not a deal-breaker for the people of Northern California, but as Roberta Aldsworth has demonstrated over the years, having a smart, attractive, well-spoken spouse is a proven asset. For almost two decades, whenever the Senator’s numbers have taken a dip, all he’s had to do is send out Roberta to make a speech here or a donation there, and his numbers have gone up. Crisis averted.

  So it was with great interest that I sat beside Charlotte Emerson, the woman Kyle is dating and that the Aldsworths are grooming (if shopping trips and styling tips are any indication) to be the wife for the future Senator Kyle Aldsworth.

  Kyle turned to me, his face tortured. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. This is awful.”

  I shook my head and whispered, “It’s okay. Go ahead.” I didn’t really want him to go ahead. I wanted to rewind my day, go back to bed, and wake up with the happy thoughts of kissing Kyle and hearing him tell me he loved me.

  Kyle continued reading, shaking his head back and forth slowly as he did.

  My first impressions were quite favorable. She’s a pleasant looking woman—not so attractive or unattractive as to be a distraction to either voters or her future husband. She has a pleasant demeanor and good fashion sense if we’re to judge by the dress she wore last night.

  But then things turned as south as our arrogant, flashy, pretentious Southern California neighbors. When I expressed my gratitude for wonderful people like those who run Mercy House, Ms. Emerson expressed her disgust with the parents whose children are helped there, calling them selfish and abusive. When I expressed sorrow that many of these children have witnessed such sadness, she gloated over the fact that her family was affluent enough that her mother was there to greet her after school every day, and although she didn’t go so far as to say it, I’d suspect she was wearing pearls and holding a plate of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies.

  When I reminded her the Aldsworth family has a son who has struggled with alcohol addiction, she lamented that every family has at least one black sheep, and when I asked her for something substantive about Kyle Aldsworth’s character, her response was, ‘He’s handsome.’

  While her tact and possibly her intelligence are certainly in question, one has to wonder if her judgmental and condescending outlook will serve Kyle Aldsworth well.

  One thing’s for certain. No matter how they dress her up, Charlotte Emerson is no Roberta Aldsworth.

  Kyle folded up the newspaper, slowly at first and then faster and more forcefully, until he was finished. Then he flung it toward the fireplace and collapsed back into the couch. I was proud of myself. Even though I felt like crying, I’d kept the tears in check. And then Roberta sat down on the other side of me and gently laid her hand on my knee. It was like her hand had turned a faucet and the tears started flowing—big, hot, silent tears poured down my cheeks and dropped off my chin.

  Kyle moved closer and folded his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. Now my tears soaked into his t-shirt.

  “I don’t want to be insensitive,” Devon said after a minute, “but we have to know what was said last night. We need to ask you some questions.” Apparently, he’d been patient as long as he could. Now he needed answers.

  I pulled away from Kyle and patted the wet front of his shirt. “It’s okay. You can ask me whatever you want. I didn’t say those things.”

  “You never said the parents were selfish and abusive?” Donald asked.

  I shook my head. “I said I felt sad for them, but Angela said they were selfish and abusive.”

  “And the thing about your family being so affluent that your mother was there to greet you after school every day?” Devon asked.

  “My family isn’t affluent. We’re a normal family. And all I said was something like I was glad . . .” What exactly had I said? “I think I said I was glad I didn’t have to worry about what I’d come home to.”

  “And what did you say about Alex being the black sheep?” Donald asked.

  “I didn’t say that. I said your family was great.”

  “Where did some of these things come from?” Donald was pacing.

  Devon blew a breath through his nose and shook his head back and forth. He reminded me of a bull about to charge. “It doesn’t matter at this point who said what.” My heart sank. Not only had I been misquoted, Angela had printed things I’d never say, and Devon didn’t seem to believe me. Did Kyle? Did Donald and Roberta? “It’s out there, and we’ve got to decide how we’re going to combat it.”

  “What would you say our options are?” Roberta asked.

  Devon paced in front of the fireplace. His head was slightly jutted forward, and his pointed nose and pursed lips made him look like an angry mouse. What was wrong with me? He was here to help fix something I’d done, and all I could do was compare him to the animal kingdom.

  “Charlotte, would you step out into the hall for a minute?”

  I looked at Kyle and then Roberta. Kyle squeezed my hand and then let go, so I got up and left, closing the door quietly behind me.

  Suddenly, I felt angry. This was about me. This was something I’d supposedly done. And now I was waiting in the hall while they discussed how to handle me? The door was heavy, but I put my ear against it anyway.

  “I guess I need to know if you’re serious about this girl. Because our easiest way out of this mess would be to issue a statement saying you were no longer dating.”

  I tried to swallow but felt like I might choke. I listened hard to hear what Kyle would say, but it wasn’t him who spoke next.

  “She’s a nice girl, Devon.” It was Roberta.

  “There are lots of nice girls.” Devon said.

  Then I heard Kyle’s voice. Every muscle in my body strained, trying to help my ears make out his words. “I’m not going to... she didn’t... other options.” And then his voice got louder. “This is ridiculous. I’m not going to have her sitting in the hall like she’s been sent to time out.” His voice got louder, and I quickly stepped away from the door.

  When the door opened, I was several feet away, looking at pictures on the wall, although I couldn’t have told you anything specific about the photographs. If they were photographs. They might have been paintings.

  “Hey.” He stepped alongside me. I wanted to ask him what he’d said. Maybe some time I would.

  “Kyle, I didn’t say those things.”

  “I believe you.”

  “This is bad for you, isn’t it?”

  Kyle shrugged. “It’s not good. But we can handle it. Devon’s good, and Polly is on her way over.”

  “Who’s Polly?”

  “She’s in public relations. Devon calls her in sometimes when things get... tricky.”

  I sighed. “Oh, Kyle. I’m so sorry.”

  Kyle shook his head and reached for my hand. “Let’s go.”

  We’d barely sat back down on the couch together when the doorbell rang.

  If Devon was a mouse, Polly was a bulldog. As soon as Roberta greeted her at the front door, Polly’s voice carried throughout the house. “This is garbage. That woman should lose her job. What kind of yellow journalism is that? And why didn’t someone prep this girl?” She rounded the corner into the office, her finger pointing at Devon. “Are you too busy, Devon? Or are you getting lazy?”

  Devon straightened and met her accusing eyes. “Don’t be coming in here telling me what we should have done. Let’s figure out what needs done now.”

  “That sounds good, but if this girl”—she pointed at me— “is a long-term fixture in this family, someone should have prepped her. She was sitting at a table with media, for crying out loud. What did you think? Angela Prescott would be content to talk about cupcakes and butterflies? The woman’s had an agenda for years. You might as well have tossed her carcass into a cage of hyenas. I’m Polly, by the way.” She put her hand out to shake mine.


  Polly was tiny, not much more than five feet tall. I wasn’t sure how her voice and her opinions could fit inside such a compact package.

  “We’re thinking we should have a press conference and have Charlotte make a statement,” Devon said, and my heart landed somewhere on the thick rug at my feet.

  Polly must have seen my expression. “You think that’s a good idea?”

  “Somehow, we have to get the word out there that Charlotte didn’t say these things. She’s assured us she didn’t.” I hated the way he said it, like there was a chance I was lying.

  “Of course she didn’t say it. Remember this is the same reporter”—Polly made giant air quotes—“who took that campaign worker to Vegas and tried to get the dirt on Donald.” She turned toward Donald. “Thank you for keeping yourself out of the dirt.” Donald nodded.

  “Do you think you could make a statement?” Devon asked me.

  Before I could answer, Polly held her hands up. “Now hold your horses. Let’s not jump off a cliff to save a peanut butter sandwich.” I had no idea what she was talking about, but somehow, Polly was making me feel a little better.

  “That’s why we called you, Polly. To keep us from jumping off a cliff,” Donald said, and Devon huffed. “Sorry, Devon. We all know you’re the best when it comes to political strategy, but when it comes to public relations messes”—I cringed—“we need Polly.”

  “I’m going to go have Allison fix some breakfast,” Roberta said. “Why don’t we leave Devon and Polly to strategize? Kyle, you take Charlotte home and let her get ready for the day. Let’s all meet back here in an hour and a half, and we’ll make a plan over breakfast.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Polly said. “You woke me out of a dead sleep, and now that I’m awake, I’m starving.”

  Roberta pulled me into a quick hug before we left. “Don’t worry. It’ll all blow over.”

  The ride back to my apartment was quiet. I wanted to ask Kyle what he’d said when I’d been out of the room, but I didn’t dare, and he didn’t offer. Kyle circled my block twice, and when we still didn’t find a parking place, he dropped me off and said he’d pick me back up in forty-five minutes. He squeezed my hand before I got out of the car.

  My apartment was dark and quiet. I wished Mia was home to talk to. I needed to talk to someone. I thought about calling Mom and Dad, but knew I’d cause them worry. There was nothing they could do to fix this mess. They’d hear about it soon enough. I dialed McKayla’s number.

  “Hey, Sis,” she said when she answered the phone. Before I could say anything, she continued, “We’re out to breakfast with Connor’s parents. Can I call you back later?”

  “Sure.”

  She must have noticed the disappointment in my voice, because she instantly back-pedaled. “Unless there’s something wrong? Are you okay?”

  “Oh, sure. Later is fine.” I made my voice as perky as possible.

  “Okay. Good. You sounded upset for a second.”

  “No, I’m fine. Have fun. Give me a call later.”

  I dialed Angus’s number before I’d even allowed myself to wonder if it was a good idea.

  “Hey, Chuck, what’s up?” His voice sounded so good, and that awful nickname so improper and unpolitical, that if he’d been in the same room with me, I’d have hugged him. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Somewhere in the exhalation, a sob escaped, and I covered my mouth with my hand. “Hey, is this Charlotte?”

  “Yeah,” I whispered around the lump in my throat.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I shook my head, unable to speak. When he asked again, I realized he couldn’t see me, and I’d have to give him something audible. “Have you seen the Chronicle this morning?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Do you have one there?”

  “No, but I can pull it up online. What am I looking for?”

  “Angela Prescott’s article about the Mercy House benefit last night. Can you find it?”

  “Yeah. Give me a second.” I heard Angus’s fingers tapping on the keyboard and voices in the background. “No, you guys go without me.”

  “I’m sorry, Angus. Did I interrupt plans?”

  “We were headed out for a bike ride, but that’s okay.”

  “No, you go ahead and go. We can talk later.”

  “Are you kidding? You’re giving me a perfect excuse to bow out. I should be thanking you.” I knew that wasn’t true. Angus went bike riding whenever he could. It was his favorite way of dealing with the stress of medical school. “Okay, I’m there. Do you want me to read it aloud?”

  “No. Just tell me when you’re done.”

  I looked at the clock. I needed to be getting ready while he read. I put the phone on speaker and laid it on the bed while I changed into a pair of gray capris and a pale yellow lace top.

  I was applying makeup when he finished. “Wow, Charles. What are you going to do?”

  I leaned against the counter, feeling tired and weak. “I didn’t say any of those things.”

  “Of course you didn’t.”

  I sighed. “Thanks, Angus.”

  “I haven’t done anything.”

  “Yes, you have. You knew I wouldn’t say those horrible things.”

  “Have you talked to Kyle?”

  I quickly recapped the dreadful morning. “He’s picking me up in about fifteen minutes to go back and make a plan over breakfast. They’re being nice about it, but I can tell everyone is pretty upset.”

  “Everyone including you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I can imagine. But Charles, no one who knows you is going to believe a word of this.”

  “That’s the problem, though. Most people who read this don’t know me. They just think I’m being groomed to be the next Senator Aldsworth’s wife. And they’re probably deciding Kyle would be a terrible choice because of me.”

  “Are you two engaged?” Angus asked. There was a wariness in his tone.

  “Of course not. I’d have told you if we were.”

  “Are you headed there?”

  “I don’t know. Kyle has said a few things that let me know he’s looking down the road, and I’m in his plans. At least I was until this morning.” Angus was quiet for long enough that I wondered if we’d been disconnected. “Are you there?” I asked.

  “I’m here. Just thinking.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking if Kyle or his family let a nasty reporter change their minds about you, they’re fools. And if they’re that foolish, they’re probably not fit for office.”

  I was ready to go, so I sat on the couch and watched for Kyle’s car out the window. “Angus, I still don’t know exactly how this happened. I was sitting there at the table, and she was being friendly and talkative, and I thought we were having polite dinner conversation. I’d never have imagined she’d come up with something like that article.”

  “It wasn’t about you, Chuck. She obviously has an ax to grind with Senator Aldsworth.”

  “But why didn’t I see it coming?”

  “Because you judge other people by yourself. It’s human nature. And you’re not that way.”

  I saw Kyle’s car round the corner. “Kyle’s here. I’ve gotta go.”

  “Okay. Be strong. Don’t let anyone bully you. Not nasty reporters and not the Senator’s people. Remember, you’re tough. You can handle anything.”

  “Thanks, Angus. Sorry you missed the bike ride.”

  “It’s okay. I’m glad you called me.”

  Kyle leaned across the car and pushed the door open. Relief cooled my fevered worry when I saw his smile. “You look nice,” Kyle said as he pulled into traffic.

  I laughed. “You’re always a gentleman. Even in a crisis. That’s good to know.”

  Kyle turned to me after he pulled into a parking spot a couple of houses from his parents’. “I need to tell you something,” he said, and I turned to face him. He rested his elbow on the back of my
seat and fidgeted with my ponytail. “This isn’t fatal. Devon and Polly are the best, and I’m sure they’ve figured out a way to make people forget this. Polly was right. We should have prepared you for this. We’ve been doing this for so long, we forgot how new it is to you. You’ve never had to watch everything you say. You’ve probably never had any experience with people wanting to twist your words and use them against you. I’m sorry we didn’t prepare you, but don’t let this throw you. You’ll learn the ropes. I’m sorry about this morning.”

  I didn’t know how to explain my uneasiness. I knew Kyle was trying to comfort me, but I didn’t feel comforted. I couldn’t organize my thoughts into any rational order. But then Kyle’s lips moved against mine, and I decided to sort things out later. The breathless ache his kiss caused was exactly what I needed to forget the horrible morning. I held him close and prolonged the kiss, not wanting to go back inside and face their “team.”

  I wanted to cry when Kyle pulled away, but I quickly gathered myself. I was glad to have Devon and Polly behind me, but even more grateful for Kyle and Angus.

  Over a breakfast of French toast, bacon, and orange juice, we discussed Angela Prescott’s article and what we should do to combat it. According to Polly, it had been shared on Facebook forty-three times, tweeted over two hundred times, and the hashtag #dumpherkyle was trending in the bay area.

  I wasn’t sure what it meant for me and Kyle, but I knew it wasn’t good.

  “Maybe I should just disappear for a while.” I was pleased my voice sounded strong.

  “That doesn’t work for me,” Kyle said.

  “We’ve got a plan,” Polly said around a bite of food. She pointed her fork at Donald. “Call in a favor and get yourself on one of the Sunday morning shows, preferably San Francisco Sunday Morning. Tell them you want to discuss the jobs report that just came out. They’ll be thrilled to have you, and you can be sure they’ll ask something about Kyle and Charlotte. That will give you a chance to let everyone know you stand behind her.”

  Polly filled her mouth with another bite, so Devon took over. “You two are to be seen.” He waved his hand back and forth between Kyle and me. “And I mean a lot. Everywhere. Mary Jameson is in charge at Mercy House on Sundays. You’re to go tomorrow morning and take some of the kids to church services. We’ll see that the papers hear about it. Go to dinner at a crowded restaurant every night for the next week. And I want you to look happy and be affectionate. Think Prince William and Kate. You’re the new bay area royalty.”