Nesting in North Carolina

by Kirsten Osbourne

  No more flyaway, waist-length blond hair. Instead, her hair was a short, sleek cap of sunny blond, shimmering and falling in an angle to her chin. It made her eyes appear much bigger, deeper blue and somehow exotic, although that could have been the artfully applied shadow and liner around her eyes.

  She looked taller, too. The short boots with heels she wore added a couple of inches to her height and were surprisingly comfortable. Tight blue skinny jeans with a couple of strategically placed rips encased her long legs, and a loose-fitting white blouse with a plunging V-neck completed the outfit. The stylist’s assistant piled on about fifteen silver bangles on one slim wrist and fastened a short silver chain around her neck, and one of the other members of the makeup team handed her a big leather, hobo-style bag that matched her boots.

  Dr. Lachele snapped her fingers. “Kristen Bell. That’s who you look like.”

  “Is that a good thing?” Becca asked doubtfully. “I’ve never heard of her. And I don’t see why we had to pay so much for these jeans. I’ve got some at home that are already ripped.”

  “Trust me,” Lachele winked. “Archer’s not going to know what hit him.”

  Pierre wouldn’t let them leave until Becca proved that she could do the makeup exactly like the stylists showed her, and once they escaped the salon, Becca begged for a lunch break. “Salads,” Lachele chuckled. “Then, it’s mani/pedi time. I thought Pierre was going to have a heart attack when he saw your fingernails.”

  The rest of the weekend went by in a whirlwind, and Becca finally put the credit card in Dr. Lachele’s capable hands. “I don’t want to know how much all of this is costing,” she said miserably.

  Every time Becca passed a mirror, she had to do a double take. What had happened to the shy, backwoods girl Archer had married? Becca’s own granny wouldn’t recognize her now.

  She had to admit, though, after she got used to it a little bit, she was starting to like her new look. New Becca looked like a woman who wouldn’t be afraid to stand up to an interfering mother-in-law. She also looked like a woman who belonged with a handsome, polished, successful man like Archer Hayes. She started to walk a little more upright in her new clothes, wearing them with confidence. And under Dr. Lachele’s tutoring, she began to speak with a little more volume and a little more assertiveness. By the time the weekend was over, Rebecca—the alter ego she and Lachele had agreed upon—was ready to take on Asheville and everyone in it.

  They decided to take a detour on the way home and try out a test run on Emily, who was settling in with little Jennie Joy. “I can’t come to this part of the country without seeing my newest Matchrimony Munchkin,” Dr. Lachele insisted. They parked in the bumpy gravel drive and unloaded the trunk of the rental car. Loaded down with boxes and bags, Lachele and Becca approached the beautiful old farmhouse, laden with gifts for the new mother and baby.

  William, the family’s surrogate grandfather, who lived in a converted apartment above Emily and Brodie’s garage, came hustling out to help them. “Dr. Lachele.” The man grinned, showing a gleaming white, denture-bright smile. “As I live and breathe. How are you?”

  Lachele laughed and gave him an awkward one-armed hug while he tried to take packages out of her hands. “I’m doing just wonderful, William. Are you ready to be my next client yet?”

  “Oh, no, I’m a confirmed bachelor for life.” He laughed and then turned to Becca. Even though Becca had been Emily and Brodie’s housekeeper for over a year, there wasn’t even a flicker of recognition in his faded brown eyes. “And who might you be?” He grinned in a friendly way. “Are you Dr. Lachele’s newest customer? She’ll have a lot more luck pairing you off than she would a crusty old man like me.”

  “Oh, she already did. You mean you don’t recognize me?” Becca laughed.

  William squinted at her, and his jaw dropped. “Becca? What in the world happened to you? I thought you was that movie star—what’s her name? Kristen Bell?”

  Dr. Lachele’s laughter was loud enough to bring Brodie out of the barn and Alec running from the woods. “Wait until Emily sees you,” she gasped out through giggles. “If your best friend doesn’t recognize you, your husband doesn’t stand a chance.”

  Eight

  The nervousness that Becca felt in showing her friend her new persona was nothing compared to the butterflies that battled in her belly the next day, knowing that her husband was coming home to a whole different woman.

  Emily had squealed and carefully danced Becca around the kitchen. “I cannot believe I missed this! Becca, you’re like one of those before and after makeover shows except before was beautiful and after is just beatifuller. If I weren’t so happy, I’d hate you right now. And you, Dr. Lachele, how could you? You couldn’t have waited two weeks until I was recovered from birthing my behemoth baby, so I could come along to Charleston?”

  “Sorry.” Lachele grinned, cuddling the very chubby and very cute Jennie Joy to her happily. She ran her purple-tipped fingers gently over the baby’s head, smoothing her bright red hair, as her new Munchkin watched her owlishly with her bluish-colored newborn eyes. “Desperate times called for desperate measures, and we had to move quick. You get yourself all recovered and settled into new mom life, and we’ll do this again in the fall. I haven’t had so much fun in years. It might have to become a semi-annual tradition.”

  Holding Emily’s beautiful baby, Becca felt her heart squeeze. Right now, deep in her womb, a little baby boy or girl was growing and changing, and in eight or nine months, depending on what her doctor had to say next week, she, too, would have her own baby to squeeze and love on. She wanted to burst with the news but didn’t feel right in sharing with Emily or Dr. Lachele or anyone else until she’d found a way to tell Archer.

  Then, she thought. Then she’d be able to get excited about impending motherhood and celebrate. For now, she was just scared at what his reaction might be. Did Archer even want to be a father?

  They’d agreed to set a getaway date for some time during late summer or early fall, showered Emily’s family with the gifts they’d bought while they were in Charleston, and then rocketed back toward Asheville in Dr. Lachele’s rental car.

  “Sorry, sweetie,” she’d said, pulling into the drive with a shower of gravel spewing from her back tires. “I’m going to miss my flight. Open the door, tuck, and roll.”

  Thankfully, Lachele did bring the car to a full stop at least. Becca had to get all her things out of the trunk. But after a quick boobie bump, Becca’s purple-haired matchmaker and fairy godmother was on her way. Her tires spun for a second, gaining traction on the driveway. The car fishtailed and shot for the narrow one-lane, stone-lined drive that led to the road.

  Becca chuckled, shaking her head, and turned to go into the house. Seconds later, though, she heard a sharp squeal of metal on metal that seemed to last at least ten full seconds. She spun around, in time to see Dr. Lachele’s little rental car wedged in the walled drive with Archer’s black Mercedes.

  Her hands flew to her mouth in horror. The two cars were wedged almost motionlessly together in the narrow space. Then, helpless giggles erupted as Dr. Lachele honked the horn with merry little “beep beeps,” like she was oblivious to the situation she’d gotten them into. The two cars continued to inch forward, in opposite directions, screeching loudly as metal dented and paint scraped, until the smaller rental popped free. Dr. Lachele, late for her plane after all, didn’t even stop. She just gave one last “beep beep,” and roared out of the driveway and onto the road.

  The Mercedes pulled slowly under the portico, as if Archer was still in shock. She tried to get her laughter under control, forgetting all about her new appearance and how nervous she was.

  Archer probably was in shock.

  Because when he opened his driver’s side door—with a new grinding sound that hadn’t been there before—he looked straight at her, surrounded by all of her baggage, with confusion on his face.

  “Can I help you with something?”

/>   Becca resisted the urge to laugh again, this time a little hysterically. For better or worse, she was a new woman. She took a deep breath. “Yes, please. You can help me carry these things in,” Becca said smoothly. “I’m home, Archer.”

  It was gratifying to watch his eyes widen in recognition. “B-Becca. What the—” Archer hurried around the car, starting to hug her, but stopping. “I’m, uh, glad you’re home.”

  She felt a little pang but pasted a cool smile on her lips, and he gathered up her things. “Did you have a nice weekend?” she asked as they went into the house.

  “Yeah. I mean no.” He dropped the bags in the hall and ran his fingers through his hair, leaving the dark strands sticking up messily. “I missed you. I couldn’t concentrate on work, and the house seemed so empty. Not to mention our bed. What’s going on, Becca?”

  “I’m going by Rebecca now.”

  “Oh-kay?” Archer looked at her. Really looked at her, from the top of her perfectly smooth, swingy new haircut to her outfit—expensive skinny jeans, again with ripped knees, a loose white V-neck blouse with a pendant necklace, a long cardigan in pale pink—right down to her feet in tan high heels, open-toed to show off her pedicure. She’d done her makeup, too, just as Pierre had instructed. The results were obviously baffling to her husband.

  “So, you went shopping with Dr. Lachele, huh?” he said weakly. “Looks like you had a makeover, too.”

  “Yes, dear,” Becca purred. “I decided it was time to look the part of a Hayes wife. Do you like it?” She did a little pirouette. Luckily, it was a graceful pirouette. Secretly, she thought she’d fall on her face. She could count on one hand the times she’d worn heels in her life.

  “Of course.” Finally, Archer seemed to get himself pulled together. The look on his face was unreadable. “You look lovely.”

  Archer couldn’t believe it. Gone was his sweet, innocent-looking Becca, and in her place was a sophisticated stranger. Even his mother would have a hard time finding fault with her appearance. Becca’s long, beautiful hair had been cut short and sleek. Her comfortable jeans and sweatshirts, her wooly socks that he found so cute . . . gone. She looked like any number of his colleagues’ wives. Serene, stylish, and rich. She’d lost whatever it was that made her so unique. She even talked differently. Her charming accent had smoothed out.

  What had happened? He’d thought Dr. Lachele would make Becca feel better. Less self-conscious about being different. Perk up her spirits with some girl time. Instead, she’d turned Becca into someone his mother would have picked out. Suddenly, he was irritated with the entire world. Forgotten were the plans he’d had to woo his wife, make her forgive him.

  Make her fall in love with him like he’d fallen in love with her.

  Instead, he decided he’d give his wife a little test.

  “I know you just got home, and you’ve had . . . a busy weekend, but I have a dinner meeting tonight with a client of mine. Would you like to come with me?”

  Here it was, Becca thought sadly. Archer really did approve of her new persona. He’d never invited her to go to a client dinner before. Probably because he’d been embarrassed about his countrified bride. She was exhausted and a little nauseated, but she plastered a false smile on her face.

  “Of course, Archer. Should I change?”

  “No,” he replied, looking at her oddly. “You’ve changed enough.”

  They took Becca’s Mini Cooper in to town, since Archer’s car was a little under the weather. It was torture being so close to him in the cozy confines of the small car. Becca could smell Archer’s cologne, and she missed him. She’d have been happier tumbling into bed with her husband, hiding under the covers and letting the rest of the world go by. Instead, they were going out. Her disguise would be put to the test.

  She’d never been to a restaurant with valet parking, but as soon as Archer pulled up at the front doors, a uniformed young man hurried down to open her door for her. He rounded the car and took Archer’s keys, smiling gratefully at the folded bill Archer handed him.

  Her husband held out an arm. “Shall we?”

  “Thank you,” she murmured, clutching her purse tightly to her shoulder with her other hand. Nerves hummed in her belly, and she hoped she could make it through the evening without throwing up or embarrassing herself.

  The maître d greeted Archer by name and led them to a table in the back corner, where a large, older man in a business suit waited for them. Next to him was a small, plump woman dressed in a too-fancy dress and loaded down with lots of jewelry, looking shy and uncomfortable. The man stood up when he saw them coming, beaming.

  “Hayes, how are you?” His voice was as big as the rest of him. “Who is this ravishing young lady?” He beamed at her and shook her hand in one massive paw. She relaxed a little at the man’s gruff greeting. He seemed outrageous but friendly.

  Archer smiled. “Jim, meet my wife. Bec- Rebecca. Rebecca, this is Jim Jakowski, one of my favorite clients.”

  Jim grinned and winked at Becca. “Aw, heck. He says that about all his clients. Nice to meet you, little lady.” His accent sounded Texan. “I’d heard Archer’d gotten married. Seeing you just proves he has all the luck.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jim,” she murmured with a smile.

  “And this here is my wife, Suzie.” The woman held out her hand tentatively and Archer and Becca both shook it. Becca’s heart went out to the poor woman. She looked positively uncomfortable and wishing herself anywhere else.

  Becca slid into the chair that Archer pulled out for her next to Suzie.

  They ordered. Steaks for the men, soup and salad for Becca, who didn’t think she’d be able to stomach anything else, and Suzie, who followed her lead. The two women sat quietly as their husbands talked about business matters until their main course was delivered.

  Becca knew she should try to be more outgoing, talk to Suzie, but she was feeling so miserable, she couldn’t stand it. Archer wasn’t paying her any attention, and she was feeling more and more peaked by the minute. When their food came, Becca took one sniff of the asparagus on her husband’s plate and panicked.

  “You don’t look so well,” Suzie whispered.

  Becca was afraid to speak. She just nodded carefully.

  “Here. Let’s go get some fresh air.” She tossed down her napkin and took Becca’s arm. “We’ll be right back,” she said to her husband quietly. He nodded and went on talking. Archer didn’t even look up, and Becca got the sudden urge to kick the back of his chair.

  She made it to the restroom just in time, with Suzie’s help.

  As she came out of the stall, embarrassed but feeling better, Suzie was waiting with a cold, wet paper towel and a small glass of water. “Are you okay now, Mrs. Hayes?” she asked sympathetically.

  “I’m so sorry. Thank you, yes.” Becca gratefully took the glass of water, and Suzie helped her to one of two small stools that stood in front of a little vanity table.

  “If you put this on the back of your neck,” Suzie offered, “it should help with the nausea. May I?”

  Becca nodded, sipping the water until she felt better. The coldness at the back of her neck got rid of the overheated feeling, and she felt the last of the nausea ease. Suzie Jakowski settled onto the stool across from her. “Is this your first?” she asked, smiling.

  “How’d you know?” Becca was suddenly so tired, she didn’t even try to hide her Tennessee twang. Suzie’s eyes opened wider.

  “Well, I had three of my own,” the other woman confided. “Each pregnancy was worse than the last. I promise, though.” She laughed softly. “The results are worth it. If you don’t mind me asking, where are you from?”

  “Wolf Creek. It’s an almost non-existent town in Tennessee.” Becca took another sip, too grateful to be feeling better to even consider moving.

  Suzie clapped her hands, delightedly. “I know that area! My grandma grew up in Pigeon Forge. Forgive me, but I’d have had a hard time believing it just a f
ew minutes ago. When you showed up with your husband, I was so intimidated. You seemed so perfect and poised, I thought you surely must be Asheville born and bred.”

  Becca smiled back, suddenly wanting to confide in the woman. Something about her reminded her of a shy version of Dr. Lachele. “Oh, no,” she laughed. “I’m as much of a country girl as a girl can be. In fact,” she waved her hand at the clothes she wore, “I’m more relaxed in jeans you can actually breathe in. They’re much more comfortable to scrub floors in.”

  She told Suzie an abbreviated version of her story.

  “That is incredible! I love a good fairy tale.” Suzie took a tissue from the vanity counter and dabbed at her eyes. “This one even has a wicked stepmother. Or mother-in-law, I should say.”

  Realizing that they’d been holed up in the ladies’ room for quite a while and their husbands must’ve noticed them missing, Becca stood up slowly. Thankfully, her stomach stayed put. In fact, she was feeling pretty hungry.

  “I’ll tell you what,” her new friend said firmly. “I’ve got an idea. Play along when we get back to the table.”

  The men hardly looked up from their meals when Becca and Suzie came back. They were arguing in low tones over portfolio number and stock options. Suzie delicately cleared her throat as she sat down.

  “Jim, darling,” she said softly, but her big, burly husband broke off in mid-sentence and snapped to attention.

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “Sign with Hayes.”

  He cocked his head, obviously surprised. “Of course. But why?”

  “I just had a meeting with Mr. Hayes’s wife at length, and she’s convinced me that her husband’s company will be the best option to handle our investments.”

  He blinked and nodded. Turning his attention back to Archer, who was watching the exchange with interest, he said, “Looks like you’ve got a new client. I look forward to working with you. Your terms will be acceptable.”