The Husband Maker Boxed Set

by White, Karey

  I thought I might throw up. It wasn’t that I minded taking some of the kids from Mercy House to church or that it was a burden to eat out at nice places with Kyle every night. But they were choreographing my life. And I’m not a good dancer.

  “We’ll let you know where we want you to eat each night,” Devon said to Kyle, and Kyle nodded. “We’re taking charge of how you get spun, Charlotte, so you don’t need to worry. We’ll talk next weekend and see where we’re at.”

  I tried to smile, but I don’t think I succeeded. I was worried. Would I be able to pull off what they were asking of me? Kyle kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear. “See, it’s all going to be fine.”

  I watched Donald on San Francisco Sunday Morning while I got ready for church. He looked distinguished in his gray suit and green, black and cream striped tie. He spoke eloquently of his plans to help turn the disappointing jobs report around. The show was nearly over. Maybe I wouldn’t even get mentioned. That lifted my spirits a little. But then the host changed the subject.

  “Before we let you go, Senator, we’d like to get your thoughts on one more matter. Over the weekend, an editorial in the Chronicle quoted your son’s girlfriend, and it’s created a lot of buzz. How are you and your family handling her unpopular, and frankly, disturbing, comments?”

  “Well, Jim, I find it interesting that a real journalist would think the girl my son is dating is big news, but since she decided to make it an issue, I’ll tell you this. I’ve come to know Charlotte, and I’m not buying what was in that editorial. If you look at Ms. Prescott’s record, she has been prone to exaggeration and misquoting before, and unless she can back up her claims with proof of Charlotte’s statements, I don’t believe them. Charlotte is a lovely girl from a solid bay area family. She’s talented and hard-working, and in all the time she’s spent with Kyle and my family, we haven’t seen a single indication she’s anything other than a caring, thoughtful, and articulate woman.”

  “So you’re saying Charlotte Emerson was misquoted?”

  “I’m saying those quotes don’t sound like the Charlotte we know and love.”

  “Are you making an announcement, Senator?”

  Donald put up his hands. “Of course not. If there ends up being a wedding, I’d like to be invited.” They laughed and Donald continued. “You watch. I think Charlotte is going to end up surprising and impressing a lot of people.”

  “Thanks for being on the show, Senator.”

  “Always a pleasure, Jim.”

  I appreciated what Donald had said, but I felt like this was someone else’s life. How had I ended up being a topic of conversation on San Francisco Sunday Morning? It didn’t feel like they could possibly be talking about me.

  Kyle and I rang the doorbell at Mercy House, and Mary Jameson came to the door. “Thank you for coming. There will be three children going to church with you. Two are siblings, Cade and Abigail. Their mother is in rehab, and there’s no father in the picture. The third child is a little older. Her name is Kyra. Her father died in Iraq, and her mother is also in court-ordered rehab as a condition of avoiding prison time.”

  “Can we take them to lunch after services?” Kyle asked.

  “Of course. We’ll just have you sign into the register and record the time you plan to have them back.”

  The children were charming. Cade and Abigail were six and eight and talked constantly. Kyra was eleven and shy. She responded softly when we spoke to her, but never initiated a conversation.

  When church was over, Kyle took a vote, and all three kids wanted to eat at In-N-Out.

  “What would you like?” Kyle asked them when we reached the cash register.

  “Can we each have a hamburger?” Cade asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Can we split some French fries?” Abigail asked.

  “You can each have your own.”

  “Really?”

  “You sure can.” Kyle said. Cade punched the air, and Abigail grinned so wide her eyes almost disappeared.

  “What would you like, Kyra,” I asked.

  “A milkshake, if that’s okay.”

  “What else?”

  “That’s enough,” she said.

  “Aren’t you hungry?”

  She shrugged.

  “I’m starving,” I said. “I’ll bet you’re hungry too, aren’t you?”

  “A little. But I can wait ’til we get back to Mercy House.”

  “You don’t have to wait. You can have a milkshake and a hamburger.”

  “And fries, too,” Kyle said and ordered the works for everyone.

  I was sad when it was time to leave the children at Mercy House. It had been a lovely few hours, and I’d been surprised and touched by how sweet and grateful the children had been. They thanked us, and we gave hugs all around. Abigail came back for a second hug before they waved goodbye and went inside.

  I felt like a shirt that had been sitting in the bottom of the hamper for a month. Even though Devon and Polly had said we were to eat out at a nice restaurant every night for a week, I asked Kyle if we could count In-N-Out and call it a day.

  “You’re exhausted, aren’t you?”

  I nodded against the back of my seat as I watched him. “I think I need a nap and some time to regroup.”

  “You want me to come up with you?” The thought was tempting, but I knew if I wanted to sort through the weekend’s events and gear myself up for the next week, it wasn’t a good idea.

  “You know if you come up, we’ll end up doing more kissing than napping, so I think you’d better go and get those lips as far from me as possible.” Kyle laughed and shook his head. “What?” I asked.

  “Sometimes you surprise me.” He pulled into the closest open spot at the curb, almost a block from my apartment. “Do you want me to walk back with you?”

  “That’s okay. You’re in a loading zone.”

  Kyle put the car in park and turned toward me. “Am I allowed to kiss you goodbye, or will that be too tempting?”

  I put my hand on his cheek and kissed him—a couple of short kisses and then a longer one. “See?” I rested my forehead against his. “This is why you can’t come up.”

  “I understand.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  I fully intended to nap the rest of the day, but my friends and family rightfully thought Sunday afternoon would be a good time to call and offer their love and support, and although the day didn’t include much sleeping, I felt better with every phone call.

  Dad and Mom called just after I’d stretched out on my bed. They sympathized with me about the Angela Prescott disaster. They were happy to hear I had the Aldworths and their people behind me.

  “Imagine being ordered to eat out at nice restaurants every night,” Dad said.

  “Try to enjoy yourself through all this, Charlotte. Remember, you’re not just doing PR for Kyle’s campaign. He’s also courting you, so be sure that doesn’t get lost in the shuffle.” It was no wonder I loved my parents. Dad was looking at the positive angle, and Mom was looking out for my feelings. And she’d used the word “courting.” Such a cute, vintage word.

  Roberta called, mostly to be my cheerleader. “You’re doing great.”

  “Tell her she’s being a trooper,” I heard Donald say in the background.

  “Did you hear that, Charlotte? Don says you’re being a trooper.”

  Will and Gina called together. “That article was terrible,” Gina said.

  “Sorry you’re not beautiful enough to be more of a distraction,” Will said.

  “Not funny, Will.” Gina hated it when Will teased me.

  “Actually, it’s kinda funny,” I said. “Did you know at dinner that night, she called me stunning? Which one is the lie? The one she said in person or the one she printed?”

  “You’ve always been beautiful,” Gina said.

  “Will, when are you going to convince your wife that I love her even without the flattering words?�
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  “Sorry, Chuckers. They’re only flattering words if they’re not sincere. She tells me you’re beautiful even when you’re not around, so I’m pretty sure she means it.”

  “You guys are just trying to boost my confidence for all this media nonsense.”

  “Is it working?” Will asked.

  “Well, it’s not hurting, I guess. But Will, seriously, you’ve got to stop calling me Chuck and Chuckers. The media will take those and run with them. And then I’ll have to hurt you.”

  “She’s right, Will. You’ve got to stop.”

  “You have a point,” he admitted. “I’ll do my best to limit the nicknames to the privacy of our homes.”

  “How about you do your best to eliminate them entirely?” I didn’t even want to think about #Chuck or #Chuckers trending.

  McKayla was sick that she hadn’t stepped outside and talked to me on Saturday morning when I’d called her. I assured her it was fine, but she felt guilty for letting me down in my hour of need. “By the way, if it goes according to their plan, people are going to be paying attention to you. No more wearing Will’s basketball warmups.”

  “I can still wear them around the house.” I picked a string off the sweatpants that said “slammin’” down the leg. No way was I admitting I had them on right now.

  “You should get rid of them.”

  “Let’s stop talking about what I’m wearing and talk about Dad’s birthday.”

  “You’re wearing them?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Yes, you did. You’re hopeless. And Dad’s birthday isn’t for two months.”

  “I know. But we should throw him a good party this year. You don’t turn forty-eight every year.”

  “You don’t turn any age every year.”

  I sighed. “I know that. I just want to talk about something other than me, or Kyle and me, or media junk. I’m kinda sick of it.”

  “All right. Well then, let’s plan Dad’s birthday party.” Thank you, McKayla.

  Angus called Sunday evening to see how I was doing. I hadn’t napped at all, but I was feeling better after the rah rah phone calls from my family and a grilled cheese sandwich I’d eaten for dinner. When Angus knew I was fine, he handed the phone to Wyatt.

  “Charlotte, I’m so sorry. If I’d had any idea what she was going to pull, I’d have put her across the table from you. Or on the other side of Kyle. I felt sick when I heard what she’d done.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. Don’t feel bad.”

  “But I do. There were actually some nice people at that table.”

  “She seemed pretty nice while we were eating dinner.”

  “Well, I feel awful. I wanted you to know I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s fine. And the night was a huge success, so you should be celebrating, not worrying about me.”

  “It was a good night for Mercy House, that’s for sure. And it was a pretty good night for my career, too, I think. Some pretty influential people have my name now. That’s partly thanks to you introducing me to the Aldsworths, so thank you. Oh, there’s the timer. We’ve got cookies in the oven. Anyway, sorry about that woman.” She said “that woman” like it was a curse word.

  “No fair,” I said when Angus got back on the phone. “I want cookies. Did you make your chocolate chip cookies?”

  “Is there any other kind?”

  “Are they loaded with walnuts?”

  “Wyatt isn’t a big nut fan, so we only did half with walnuts.”

  “Eat a few for me.”

  The phone rang right after I hung up.

  “Are you bringing me some cookies?” I said instead of hello.

  “Uh, is that what you want?” It was Aleena. I laughed.

  “Sorry. Angus and his girlfriend made chocolate chip cookies, and I was hoping he was offering to run a plate over.”

  “I thought maybe you wanted some fortune cookies. You know, hoping for a little good luck?”

  I sighed. “Oh man, I could certainly use some good luck.”

  “Do you want me to make up a fortune for you?”

  “How about one that says, ‘Your future is terrifying. Eat more chocolate chip cookies.’”

  “Not very Chinese. How about ‘Your future is full of big changes’ or ‘the world will soon know your name.’"

  I lay back on the couch and propped my feet up on the back. “Aleena, it probably sounds exciting, but this weekend was hard. I’m not sure I’m cut out for all this.”

  “You need to change your attitude. This is an adventure. You’ve got a handsome man who obviously likes you a lot. If you marry him, you’ll probably never have another financial worry. You’ll get to travel and see places. You’ll have a successful husband. If you think about it, it doesn’t sound too bad.”

  “You’re right. I need an attitude adjustment. I’m sure the good outweighs the bad. And Kyle is amazing.”

  “Exactly. Keep that in mind, and you can deal with the rest of it. And if you don’t want him, send him my way. I’m not opposed to a Charlotte castoff. Especially if he looks like Kyle.”

  Aleena was exactly right. I could get through this. I just needed to have the right attitude. I needed to concentrate on the pros instead of the cons. Maybe I should make myself a list to remind me. After I got ready for bed, I got out a notebook and sat on the floor against the bed, making myself a visual. Of course, it needed to be colorful and eye-catching, so I pulled out my colored pens and got to work.

  I wrote “pros” in orange—because it’s my favorite color—on one side of the paper and “cons” in brown on the other side. I didn’t dislike the color brown. I actually didn’t dislike any color, but brown looked the least exciting at the moment.

  Under “pros,” I made my list: Kyle, financial security, nice family, traveling, great clothes, Kyle, eating at great restaurants, probably someone who’d clean my bathrooms, cute little Kyles running around, KYLE’S KISSES (that deserved to be capitalized), a nice house, Kyle, Kyle, Kyle.

  I moved to the “cons” list, but before I started writing, I looked at all the good things I’d put on the left side of the paper. Sure, there would be cons, but I didn’t want to dwell on them. I didn’t even want to think about them. I was going to accentuate the positive. I put a big X through the cons side. Then I taped the list to the wall by my bed so I could see it every morning before I got out of bed.

  “You’re making quite a splash,” Jayne said when she came into my office.

  “Oh, Jayne. You wouldn’t even believe the weekend I had.”

  “Actually, I probably would. You’ve been all over the place. Television, papers, internet.”

  I buried my head in my hands. “This is so out of my comfort zone.”

  “You’re doing fine. The pictures of you with the kids were cute.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The pictures of you with the kids. Coming out of the church and at In-N-Out.”

  I groaned.

  “Go to the Chronicle. You’ll see them.”

  Sure enough, there we were with the children. The pictures were cute. Cade and Abigail were laughing, and Kyra was holding my hand as we left the church. At the restaurant, the camera was behind the children, but Kyle and I were looking at each other and smiling, although I was shoving a French fry in my mouth at the same time. “Of course I’m eating.”

  “Oh, stop it. You look cute.”

  “I didn’t even know there was a photographer. How can I be so oblivious to everything? And what about the kids? I’m not sure they should have taken pictures of the kids.”

  “You worry too much,” Jayne said.

  “If you’d had the weekend I just had, you’d be worrying, too.”

  “Stop worrying and enjoy the ride. Kyle likes you. I’d bet money you’re engaged by the end of the summer.”

  “That’s only six weeks away.”

  Jayne shrugged. “Like I said. The end of the summer. Want to wager?
”

  “No. Someone will find out and splash it all over the internet.”

  “See, you’re catching on to this just fine.”

  MIA: HEY, GIRL. WE NEED 2 CATCH UP 2NIGHT. I’M CRAVING CURRY. I’M PICKING UP INGREDIENTS. CHICKEN OR SHRIMP?

  MIA: GRAHAM WILL BE THERE. YOU SHOULD INVITE UR MAN.

  I hadn’t seen Mia since Saturday morning. It would be nice to spend the evening in the apartment, stuffing ourselves on curry. Unfortunately, that wasn’t our assignment.

  ME: OH MAN, I WISH WE COULD. WE NEED TO TALK. BUT I HAVE TO GO OUT TONIGHT.

  MIA: YOU’D RATHER GO OUT THAN HAVE MY CURRY?

  ME: NO WAY. I’D RATHER HAVE YOUR CURRY ANY DAY. IT’S A LONG STORY. LIKE I SAID, WE NEED TO TALK.

  MIA: RU GOING OUT WITH KYLE?

  ME: YES.

  MIA: WHEW! YOU HAD ME SCARED FOR A MINUTE.

  ME: SORRY. CAN WE TALK WHEN I GET HOME?

  MIA: IT’S A DATE.

  I was planning to work right through lunch so I could leave a little early, but then Angus walked in with a Ziplock bag full of cookies, and I changed my plans.

  “Still want some cookies?”

  “I always want cookies.” I opened the bag. “Oh good, these have walnuts.”

  “I know better than to bring nutless cookies to you.”

  I opened the bag and took a bite. “These don’t taste like day-old cookies.”

  “I kept out some of the dough and baked them this morning.”

  “For me?”

  “And me.” Angus reached for a cookie and took a bite.

  “Thanks, Angus. These are perfection.” Angus sat in a chair across the desk from me and stretched out his long legs. He bit on the side of his mouth, a habit that told me he was apprehensive. “Is everything okay?”