Bailey wished she could have been part of bringing the plans to life. Her old boss had kept her updated on the progress while she’d cooled her heels in a cubicle in Dallas.
“It turned out fabulously.” Renee held up the images, tilting them from one side to the other. After a couple of minutes, she set them back down.
They went through another series of questions covering Bailey’s academic background and her other professional experience. She skillfully tiptoed around her current workplace dissatisfaction and lack of viable work samples during the past two years. All the while, Renee took notes. Bailey answered question after question without hesitation until one question gave her pause. “Do you watch any home improvement or design shows?”
Do I watch home improvement or design shows? Seriously? Bailey almost asked if she was joking, but Renee seemed sincere. “You mean like the ones on the Design Network?”
“Exactly. What do you think about them?”
Oh, boy. This wasn’t a question she’d ever encountered—at least not in a job interview. For the most part, she and her colleagues at the firm scoffed at those shows. It was too easy for them to spot the inconsistencies between what it actually took to complete renovations and what appeared on air. The shows were mostly smoke and mirrors. But Bailey doubted saying any of that out loud would give Renee the answer she wanted.
“I don’t know . . . I guess on some of the shows it seems like it’s just models and actors wearing tool belts and swinging a hammer in front of the camera while the less beautiful people do the real work behind the scenes.” Wow, that sounded way harsher than she’d meant to be. “But that’s probably not how it works,” she added quickly, in case Renee was a big fan of the DN and the shows they broadcasted around the clock. “I’m sure there are some very talented people on the shows.”
She imagined most of the talent was behind the scenes rather than on TV.
“And I’ve only caught a couple of episodes of shows here or there,” Bailey continued to fill the silence, her heartbeat racing faster and faster while Renee kept writing. “My sister is a big fan, but I don’t have a lot of time for watching TV.”
Aside from the marathons of Law & Order she watched with her mama on the weekends.
Seemingly appeased by the answer, Renee asked a few more questions before excusing herself to grab paperwork from another room. Alone, Bailey studied her surroundings more closely rather than get into a debate with herself about how the interview was going so far. The room was too drab and cold, too unfeeling. Even if this turned out to be an accounting agency, the people who worked here would surely appreciate something more aesthetically pleasing. More color. A warmer tone on the wall.
Inspired, Bailey flipped open her sketchpad and removed a pencil from her purse. In under a minute, she had the basic shape of the room drawn out. She guessed the dimensions by eye rather than giving in to the urge to pull out the measuring tape she kept stashed away for exact numbers. She didn’t want to seem like a total weirdo if Renee returned while she was measuring the distance from the mirrors to the opposing wall. She tapped the pencil eraser on the tabletop a second to consider, then went to work adding in details on the floor plan.
It wouldn’t take much to make this room more appealing.
***
“What’s she doing?”
Wilder Aldrich leaned forward in his seat to take a closer look at the woman on the other side of the two-way mirror. He barely spared Renee a glance as she let herself into the dark room.
“She’s writing.”
“Well, obviously.” Waverly rolled her eyes at him. “I meant, what is she writing? Is she taking notes?”
“Maybe.” He arched his neck, trying to get a better view. He still couldn’t make out the exact scratchings on the paper. But based on the way the pencil glided across the sheet . . . “I think she’s sketching.” He squinted and could just make out the lines and shading. He leaned back in his chair, scratching the back of his neck. “She’s drawing a floor plan.”
“What floor plan?”
“Don’t know. Want me to go ask her?”
Her jaw twitched. “There’s no need to be testy.”
“Then don’t ask me questions I couldn’t possibly know the answers to.”
With a huff, Waverly resumed her silent vigil. They’d been together long enough for Wilder to know when to stop and when to continue pushing her buttons. And right now, it was time to give it a rest. It had always been that way between them—short-fused and extreme. It was why their viewers tuned in to the Design Network every Thursday night to find out what would happen in the next episode of Playing House with Wilder and Waverly.
Like the other shows on the network, they had their own spin on turning tired homes into updated and well-designed masterpieces. Their twist included mobility. Each season, they moved to a new town and bought a rundown house. While they gutted and updated the house for a flip at the end of the season, they also helped a series of local homeowners renovate their houses.
Like the other shows on the network, home improvement was only part of the package. And that was why they had to find new and inventive ways to drive each other crazy while still somehow managing to pull off a major renovation on time and on budget. So far, they’d made it four years without one of them snapping and killing the other. So far. That was the intrigue. There was always the potential one of them would be pushed too far. It worked. At least it must, based on their ratings. They’d been number one the past two years running.
Because it worked—and because Waverly was the mother of his child—Wilder kept showing up to the new job sites season after season.
Rubbing the day-old stubble on his chin, Wilder continued his study of Bailey Meredith. She might be the last piece they needed for their Austin team. Everywhere they went, they hired a local designer and contractor along with other crew members. It helped them better understand local taste and keep them on time. It also helped them get around bureaucratic red tape.
Based on her portfolio, Ms. Meredith had the experience they needed. She graduated—with honors—from Texas State University-San Marcos. Their interior design program was the best in the state—or so Renee, their producer, had mentioned at least a dozen times. She had a master’s of science in sustainable design from UT’s School of Architecture. He didn’t need production notes to be impressed by that. On top of her schoolwork, she had a couple of internships all before going to work for one of the most prestigious design firms in Dallas.
And by twenty-eight. When he’d been her age, well, he’d already wrapped up a couple of seasons of Playing House and had a toddler under foot. Some people found that impressive, but they shouldn’t. While he’d lucked into his achievements, Bailey had earned hers.
Accolades aside, he wondered what she would bring to their team. They needed someone who could work well with Waverly. They needed someone who could handle the details that Waverly couldn’t get to with her busy schedule. They needed someone with vision and dedication. They needed someone innovative, but humble. They needed someone who wouldn’t blab about anything that happened behind the scenes or spoil anything before it aired. They needed a team player who could help them manage the work crews on each job site.
They needed someone who could be good on camera, but not so good he or she overshadowed him or Waverly.
Did Bailey Meredith check off each of those boxes? It was probably too early to say. But there was something about her. Something that had him thinking she was the one. He’d need a reason, though. Waverly and Renee always wanted more than a gut feeling when they made decisions.
Almost as if she was reading his thoughts, Renee asked, “What do you think?”
Waverly lifted a shoulder. “She seems nice.”
“And . . . ?”
“She’s certainly qualified.”
“She has an impressive résumé.” Renee inspected her clipboard once more. “And she answered all of her questions well. I especially li
ked what she said about giving an old place new life.”
“It’s a decent answer.” Waverly toyed with the ends of her hair. “But I’m still not sure.”
“I think we should hire her.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized it. Two pairs of eyes turned toward him. Well, shit. He had to come up with some kind of explanation. “She seems to be a self-starter.”
“How so?” Renee asked.
“You’ve left her in that room for more than five minutes.” He pointed at the glass. “Instead of pouting or getting on her phone, she’s drawing a floor plan.”
“Yeah, but what kind of a floor plan?” Waverly shook her head. “For all we know she’s doing work for a client on our time.”
“Would that be a problem?”
“I suppose not.”
“You’re right.” Renee’s head bobbed up and down. “No matter what she’s sketching it shows she’s a self-starter. She’s motivated to keep going and flexible enough to work in any conditions.”
“But she doesn’t seem to appreciate what we’re about. You heard what she said about our show. She’s never watched it.”
“Why would she?” Renee asked. “It’d be like a police officer going home and binge-watching episodes of Cops every night. Who wants to watch what they do for a living when they’re trying to unwind?”
Even though Wilder and Renee were in agreement, Waverly wasn’t convinced. “I don’t know. I—”
A clamber in the other room interrupted her. The door swung open and their daughter raced in with her nanny trailing closely behind. Bailey’s eyes fly to Virginia, who stopped a few feet away from her. Virginia climbed into a chair and leaned forward to check out the paper.
“What’s your name?”
Without blinking, the woman offered her hand. “I’m Bailey. What’s your name?”
“I’m Virginia. I’m four years old.”
“That’s an important age.”
“Mmm hmm.” Virginia tucked her legs under her and pointed at the paper. “Whatcha doin’?”
Wilder was almost to the door to extract his wayward daughter but paused when Bailey’s voice reached him. “I’m drawing a picture of what this room could look like.”
“Can I see?”
Bailey hesitated only a second, exchanging a glance with the nanny, who mouthed an apology. “Sure.” She slid the sketchpad closer to Virginia.
“What are those?”
“Tulips. They’re a kind of flower. And do you see those squares?”
Virginia nodded solemnly. “I know my shapes.”
“That’s pretty neat. Well, these squares are window boxes. Sometimes people use them to grow flowers. Don’t you think they would be pretty in here?”
“Yes.” Virginia’s face scrunched up. “This room isn’t very pretty right now.”
A slow grin spread across Bailey’s face. “No. It isn’t.”
“Are you going to make it prettier?”
“I don’t know. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t fun to pretend.”
“I like pretending.” No longer interested in the sketch, Virginia settled back in the chair. “Sometimes I pretend I’m a dinosaur.”
“I love dinosaurs.” Bailey shoved the pad aside and conspiratorially leaned forward. “What’s your favorite kind of dinosaur?”
“I like ‘ceratops. And the T. rex.”
“Those are good ones. I kind of like the brontosaurus. Do you know which one that is?”
“Yep. They have the long necks.” Virginia rested her chin on her chubby little fist. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
If the question surprised Bailey, she didn’t let on. “No. Do you?”
“Boys are gross.”
Wilder hoped Virginia kept that opinion forever, but he’d gladly settle for it sticking until she was at least thirty or forty. He didn’t want to be too greedy.
Okay, Virginia had been left to her own devices for way too long. And based on the panicked looks her nanny kept flashing to the double-sided mirror, she wasn’t going to intervene on her own. He pushed himself out of the chair and moved toward the door.
“I’m going in.”
Renee gave a short nod, but Waverly said nothing. She was too absorbed in watching what happened next in the other room to offer up anything. With a parting glance through the window partition, where his daughter appeared to be leaning even farther over the table to take a closer glance at Bailey’s work, he stepped into the hallway.
He hovered just outside the door to the open conference room. Somehow, without the glass between them, she seemed different. Not in looks—she was still just as pretty, and that was hardly something he should be thinking about when it came to a potential employee. If one of his male employees paused to ogle a female employee, he’d smack the guy upside the head and threaten to put him through sexual harassment training. A guy could find a woman attractive without making her—and everyone else—uncomfortable. Yet here he was, staring at a potential new hire and thinking about how much he wanted to step across the room and find out if her hair was as soft as it looked.
That wasn’t the only reason he was lurking now, though. She seemed to exude a kind of energy—nothing sexual, though there his head went again crossing into dangerous territory. No, there was something about Bailey. It was more like a quiet, steady passion. A hungry determination that seemed to scream, “hire me, and you will never regret it.” Maybe that was the floor plans talking. Maybe it was the patience she was showing his daughter.
Maybe it was just her.
The subject of his thoughts glanced up and met his gaze. The warmth in her amber eyes pierced him, sending a jolt to his heart that had it pounding all the louder in his ears. He waited for her curiosity to turn into recognition. It never happened. Even after a couple minutes of his standing awkwardly like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, she never seemed to place him.
She’d obviously been telling Renee the truth when she said she never watched home improvement television. He shouldn’t be surprised with a person’s honesty, but he was. That probably said more about him than it did about anything else.
Clearing his throat, he entered the room. “Sorry to interrupt this meeting . . .”
“Daddy!” Virginia hopped out of her seat and raced across the short distance to throw her arms around his leg. Oh, she was good. She knew he’d never yell at her for disobeying his command to stay out of the interview after she’d given him a full dose of her charm.
Already slipping, he gave Virginia’s head a gentle pat. He returned his gaze to Bailey’s and mouthed his own “sorry.”
“Daddy,” Virginia commanded his attention again. “You should meet my friend Bailey. She draws really pretty pictures.”
Turning on her heel, she ran back to the table. He stayed a careful distance behind as he silently asked the nanny to help him extract Virginia from the room.
To Bailey, he said, “Sorry again to interrupt. I see you’re in the middle of an important meeting.”
“Very important.” From this distance, he could see her eyes didn’t twinkle so much as dance with amusement. “She belongs to you?”
“She does.” He cleared his throat again. “And I’m afraid right now I need to borrow her.”
“But, Daddy.”
“Virginia.”
She huffed and stuck out her lower lip. “But Bailey and I are talking.”
“Virginia.”
Exchanging another glance with Wilder, then the nanny, who still looked like she wanted to pass out from embarrassment at any moment, Bailey reached for her sketchpad again. “It’s been fun talking with you, but I think your mom and dad are ready to go.”
“Psh. My mom doesn’t care. She’s in there with Miss Renee.” Virginia pointed at the mirror, and Bailey’s eyes followed.
Even from the other room, he could practically see the panic hit their faces.
To her credit, Bailey took the news in stride. She swallowed hard bef
ore turning away from the mirror and back to Virginia. “Well, it’s been a pleasure meeting you. Maybe I’ll talk to you another time?”
“You bet!” Virginia sprang to her feet. She pointed at the paper. “Can I have that picture?” Hesitating only a moment, Bailey tore it out of the pad and handed it over. Delighted, Virginia gave her a parting hug and raced toward the door. “Thank you! I’ll tell my mom you’re really nice.”
Bailey didn’t speak but waved. The door clicked shut behind them and he made it back into the observation room in time to catch her giving the mirror another glance. She lifted a hand and mouthed “hello.” Then she picked up her pencil and started a new sketch.
As they continued to stare in mute astonishment, she resumed her work on a fresh piece of paper with the same abandon she had before discovering she had an audience.
Renee opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again just as quickly. Wilder willed himself to say something, but fell short. What they’d witnessed was pretty incredible. Not so much the interaction with Virginia—which she handled well. But she saw potential in a dingy room and wanted to do something about it. Even if it never amounted to anything but an idea. There was the easy way she shared her work, gave it away to a stranger, and then started over fresh.
Then there was the way she could go back to work, even when she knew everyone was watching.
That was it. That was what they were looking for on their team. Only, Wilder couldn’t quite find the words to say it out loud.
Apparently, Waverly could. She tore herself away from the two-way mirror. “Renee?”
“Yes?”
“Go tell her why she’s really here and call the network.” Waverly stared at the sketch Virginia had handed her only moments earlier. “We have a new assistant designer.”
Playing House Page 2
