But he was a practical man, too. If there was a demand for new builds—and the price was right—he couldn’t walk away from that when he had employees depending on him.
“I’m not sure what y’all are hoping to do while you’re here for the weekend . . .” Wilder tucked his hands in his pockets to ward off the chill. “But I’m checking out some local properties next week with the production team. I was thinkin’ of gettin’ a leg up and doing some scouting if there was time.”
Pops nodded approvingly. “That’s a smart plan. They’ll be more interested in how something looks, but you can tell them if it has good bones.”
“Exactly. Would you want to come with me? I always appreciate a second opinion.”
A slow grin spread across his face. “I’d like that.”
They exchanged a nod, then grabbed the luggage, and walked to the motel, where his mama and Virginia were no doubt waiting with an itinerary planned for the evening. Wilder would be fine with whatever they wanted to do as long as it didn’t involve shopping. Mama might be brave enough to take Virginia into a store, but he wasn’t.
***
He’d lost track of how many houses they’d seen that day. There were the colonial and Shaker-style houses in North Austin. They’d followed that with two ranches and a Tudor in the Arboretum. They’d toured a Dutch colonial and a Cape Cod near downtown, then saw a midcentury in Lake Travis. They’d seen at least one Mediterranean, which had seemed out of place wherever it was. He was probably missing a couple.
Each of them had potential. But none of them had felt like the right project for them. While Wilder would work on just about anything for the family houses they fixed up, the long-term, season-long project had to be different. It had to be special. It had to feel like their home, even if they’d only squat there until they sold it and moved back to Toronto.
Wilder figured he had it in him to look at one more, but then he was calling it quits until tomorrow. Even his father was showing signs of wear and tear from a day touring properties.
After they collectively agreed they hated everything they’d seen so far, Renee drove them north on I-35 to Round Rock. Wilder remembered seeing signs for Round Rock when his family drove up to New Braunfels to visit Schlitterbahn. As a kid, there was something about the name that appealed to him. It probably had something to do with it having “rock” in the name. That seemed cool somehow. And maybe that memory had him feeling good about their prospects in Round Rock.
They parked in front of the Victorian, and Renee flipped off the radio. He leaned forward from his spot in the back seat to study the house. It didn’t have much curb appeal. The grass was burned from a summer without watering followed by a harsh winter. A broken wagon wheel jutted out from one of the patches of dirt. Someone at some point must have considered it a statement piece for whatever landscaping they’d once had, but it had long since lost its effect. The roof was every bit as patchy as the lawn. He guessed it would need more work than a few replaced shingles. The gutters and wraparound front porch showed signs of rotting. They’d need to paint the siding, repair the broken windows, and replace the missing shutters.
They hadn’t even inspected the inside yet, but this house had already racked up dollar signs. It needed love. Maybe even a miracle. And it would definitely take a lot of vision and man-hours to bring the home back to life.
Renee released a sigh and darted them an apologetic look. “What a mess. It seemed to have a lot of potential in the listings we pulled from online. There’s another place a few miles—”
“No.” Wilder opened his car door. “Let’s go inside.”
Blinking in surprise, Renee silently followed him up the walkway. It, like the house, was practically a safety hazard.
A real estate agent waited for them on the porch. She walked them through the four bedrooms and three bathrooms, explaining features along the way. Wilder didn’t say much—just the occasional acknowledgment that he was paying attention. Every so often, he exchanged a look with his father. They were on the same page. The house had a lot of problems, but great bones. And once Wilder and Waverly—and their team—put their heads together, they could make it special.
It was what they did.
They stepped into the overgrown backyard overlooking a nearly priceless view of the true Texas country. It was a sweet slice of country. Even without the potential in the house, the view was enough. Even if Waverly decided the house wasn’t for them, he didn’t want to let this go.
“How much is the seller asking for it?”
The realtor threw out a number that was a bit steep given the structural issues and probable electrical and plumbing issues. Still, it wasn’t their first rodeo. If they could negotiate the price a little, they’d be idiots not to buy.
“Well . . . let's get the seller on the phone.” Wilder tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “Let’s make them an offer they can’t refuse.”
Chapter Three
Wilder pulled his black Ford F-150 into a spot in front of a diner about a mile away from the Round Rock house. It was barely six, and the streets were about as empty as one might expect given the early hour. There was one other vehicle, a truck like his. Felix must be there already. You could always count on Felix to be prompt. That was one of the reasons they’d had to hire him—even without an interview. There was no other person Wilder wanted to work with as their local contractor behind the scenes.
They’d been friends for longer than either of them could remember. It would have been insulting to make him go through the usual machinations. Not that he would have complained if it had been necessary. Felix would have shown up for his interview—a few minutes early, because on time is late—wowed Renee with his expertise and casual, good ole Texas boy charm. And she would’ve hired him. Wilder had saved everyone the time and effort by putting his foot down.
When Wilder stepped inside, Felix was already settled in a booth. He had the menu spread open, but left unread, while he scrolled through his phone.
“Isn’t it a little early to be answering work email?”
Felix glanced up, and an easy grin spread across his face. He rose and cuffed Wilder’s shoulder. “Is it ever too early to get some work done?”
“It is if you don’t want to give your clients the wrong impression.” Wilder gave him a quick pat on the back, then slid into the booth across from him. “If they think you’re up and willing to work before six, well, they’ll want you up and at work before six.”
“Don’t worry.” Felix flipped his phone around to show Facebook on the screen. “My customers are still blissfully unaware of my early morning habit. My freedom is safe for another day.”
“I should’ve expected no less from you. How’s business?”
“Steady. About to get busier.”
Wilder glanced up to meet his gaze. “We’re not putting you in a bad place, are we?” That’s something he hadn’t considered when he’d insisted they hire Felix and his crew as their lead crew for the season. “Because—”
“Are you kidding? The guys are excited about becoming celebrities. Well, at least famous in Texas.” Felix shook his head. “They’ll be there morning, noon, and night to get the work done for you. And for a chance to be on your show. Some of the guys are already anticipating how many girls they’re going to get with their new celebrity.”
“They realize the camera crews aren’t always around when work is being done, right? That the bulk of everything happens behind the scenes.”
“I’m not going to tell them if you don’t.”
The waitress arrived at the table to take their orders. Knowing this could be his only real meal of the day, depending on how the crew tour of the house went, Wilder ordered a full breakfast. Steel-cut oats with a banana and almonds, scrambled eggs, turkey bacon, a side of fresh fruit, and a coffee. Felix said nothing but lifted his eyebrows in silent judgment while he ordered pancakes, bacon, eggs, and hash browns. It was the same breakfast Wilder would
’ve ordered a few years ago.
“So,” Felix said, once the waitress left. “How’s Virginia?”
“She’s great. Perfect.” Wilder pulled up photos on his phone and flipped through them. “She’s excited that she gets to spend some time with her Uncle Felix for the next few months.”
“She looks a lot like Waverly. That’s a good thing, by the way. Life’s hard enough without the poor girl having to look like your sorry ass.” He swiped to a photo of Virginia wearing more ice cream on her face than she’d managed to eat and he chuckled. “But there’s enough of you in there to keep it interesting.”
“There’s never a dull moment where she’s concerned.”
“Do you think your parents will be up to visit often?”
“My dad has a couple of projects in the works, so he’ll be up on weekends.” Felix handed the phone back, and Wilder slipped it into his jeans. “But from the sounds of it, my mama won’t be a stranger. They’re taking Virginia for a couple of weeks.”
“Is your mama going to put that nanny of yours out of work?”
“I hope not. We’ll need her when we head back to Toronto.”
“And good help is hard to find these days?”
“Something like that.” Wilder leaned back against the torn orange pleather covering the booth, enjoying his last moments of calm before the filming storm began. “We’re bringing in our new assistant designer today.”
“Oh yeah? Anyone I know?”
“Doubtful. She hasn’t worked on any big projects since her internships—and you were still in New York back then.”
“No recent big work? And she’s who you hired?”
Wilder nodded slowly. Now that they were inching closer and closer to the start of everything, he was beginning to have some concerns. He’d gone with his gut before with iffy results. He hoped hiring Bailey Meredith wouldn’t be another one of them. “We never want to hire someone too established.”
“Because it creates conflict with Waverly?”
“Something like that.” Wilder sighed and scratched the back of his neck. “Anyway, she’s coming to look at the house. Waverly’s just back in town herself.” Which was part of his reason for being nervous, he supposed. “It’ll give them a chance to get to know the project. We’ll ask her to brainstorm concepts on the fly. See how she does.” Wilder hesitated a second before adding. “If there’s anything about her that strikes you as off . . .”
“Don’t worry. I won’t let you keep a lemon around while I’m on the clock.”
The waitress returned with their meals, effectively ending the conversation. And that was just fine, because Felix had Wilder’s back. And unlike Waverly, he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the show’s future.
***
Quitting her job had been easier than anticipated. She’d drafted her letter of resignation from her sister’s couch in Austin, then turned it in first thing Monday morning. It took her supervisor until just before lunch to respond via email.
“Congratulations on the new job. While we appreciate your giving us two weeks, the higher-ups and I agree that there’s no need. We’ll pay you through the end of the month, but you can leave at the end of the day.”
They hadn’t actually fired her—she’d already quit. Still, it felt like they were sending her a big “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out” farewell.
And so her last day at DLS came and went with as little fanfare as the rest of her time there. A couple of the junior designers took her out to lunch. They begged her for details on the new gig—particularly if her new employer was hiring anyone else—but dropped it by the time the server delivered their lunches. After, they said their good-byes and promised to keep in touch. They made the promises because that was what people did in those situations. Even when they knew they’d probably never speak again. At least, not outside of the occasional Facebook comment or message.
At the end of the day, she packed up the few personal items she’d stashed in her cubicle and left the building. She hadn’t looked back.
Renee had been all too happy to have her start a week earlier than planned. Apparently, there were all kinds of pre-filming details to figure out, and they needed every bit of help they could get.
The extra time between jobs also gave her a chance to pack up, move out, and clean her apartment in Dallas. As planned, she’d listed most of her furniture and unsentimental belongings on Craigslist and made a decent return to pad her savings account. She carefully packed the essentials—her clothes, toiletries, laptop, and a small pile of books—to take with her. The rest went into boxes for storage in her mama’s garage.
She’d officially moved to Austin over the weekend. Paige had offered her the couch for the duration of the filming. While Bailey had appreciated the offer, it hadn’t made sense to accept. It wouldn’t take long for the two of them to want to tear each other’s hair out if they were crammed into the one-bedroom condo. One week, tops. In the end, it hadn’t been necessary. As part of her contract, the production company would put her up in one of the motel rooms reserved for the shoot.
It would be good to have her own space. After living alone for most of a decade, she valued her privacy.
She particularly appreciated her privacy right now. She pulled her compact SUV in front of a sprawling, Victorian house. A crew—she assumed they were a mix of production and construction based on the equipment they were unloading—scurried in and out of the house. It was at that moment she realized uprooting what little life she had in Dallas had been the easy part of this whole thing. Showing up at the job site had been a little harder. But getting out of the car . . . that was going to be a task of monumental proportions.
If there was ever a time to give herself a pep talk, this was it. I can do this. I can prove I’m worthy of this job. I can prove I wasn’t crazy by moving here. I—
A knock on the SUV window interrupted the flow of her pep talk—and gave her heart a start. She swiveled to find Waverly’s face filling the window. She offered a friendly wave and gestured for Bailey to join her outside.
It wasn’t too late. She could flip her ignition back on and hightail it to the highway. After a quick pit stop at the motel to pick up her meager belongings, she’d hit the road and go . . . somewhere. What she’d do for money or lodging, she didn’t know, but she’d figure it out. Or she could suck it up and do this job.
Her hand gripped the keys, but instead of turning, she glanced back at the house. It really was quite pretty. Granted, the intricate woodwork had seen better days. And if she had to, she’d bet the foundation needed reinforcement. She doubted anyone had lived there in years. Neglect usually meant you could count on all kinds of pests and rodents—not to mention rotted wood and mold. All of that could be fixed, though.
She wanted to see what was waiting inside.
Her curiosity was the push she needed to overcome her stage fright. Taking a deep breath to ease her racing heart, Bailey grabbed her bomber-style jacket and oversized hobo bag, and slid out. The unusually cold wind almost knocked the wind out of her. Waverly, she noticed, didn’t seem fazed. She wore a light jacket, which she left hung open.
“Morning,” she called out over the wind. “Did you get settled in?”
“Yes, thank you.”
With her elbow, she gestured at Bailey’s purse. “That’s a great bag.”
“Thanks.” The bag had been her biggest financial splurge after getting her first grown-up job. She’d almost had to breathe in a bag after she’d handed the cashier her credit card, but it had been worth it. “I like having a purse big enough to carry a notepad, my tablet, and a hammer if need be.”
“A girl after my own heart.”
Bailey wondered what more she was supposed to do or say next. Renee asked her to show up at this spot at eight—but nothing else. Out of habit, she’d brought two coffees—one for Waverly and one for herself. She’d checked with Renee to find out how her new boss took her coffee. She wasn’t sure if be
ing a design assistant meant being a life assistant, too, but she figured she’d err on the side of caution on her first day.
“I heard you take yours with two Splendas and a splash of soy.”
Waverly’s eyebrows shot up. “I do—thank you.” She caught Bailey’s shiver and grinned. “Let’s take these inside.”
Bailey nodded, grateful to get out of the cold, but still said nothing. Again, she didn’t understand the kind of dynamic Waverly wanted from an assistant. She wasn’t sure what was an invitation for a question or when she should be quiet.
While they moved forward, Waverly chatted over her shoulder. “Usually Wilder likes me to wait for him to set up first, but screw that. Who’s really in charge here?”
That, Bailey knew, did not require an answer.
Keeping a close distance, she followed Waverly up the cracked path to the house. Bailey took quick mental notes of her surroundings. The exterior needed a lot of work. The sagging roof and missing gutters made her think they’d find the inside in similar disarray. They stepped through the front door, nearly tripping over Wilder Aldrich, who was measuring the entryway.
“Hey!” He sprang to his feet and out of their way. “What did I tell you about waiting until I gave you the all clear?”
“You were taking for-frickin’-ever, and some of us were freezing our tits off.” She pursed her lips and took on a warrior stance, seemingly daring him to say something else.
Conceding victory to her, Wilder turned and flashed an apologetic grin at Bailey. “Hey.” He offered a hand. Warmth permeated through the thin material of her glove. “Welcome to Casa de Waverly.”
Giving him a smug grin, Waverly sipped her coffee and faced Bailey. “Do you have a smart phone?”
Playing House Page 4
