“You’re pretty, Kate,” he says. “You would make the perfect replacement for her.”
I bite my lip to keep from saying what’s on the tip of my tongue. It shouldn’t be about my looks. It should be about what I bring to the team with my design know-how.
But I know better than to say that, because he’s partly correct. Appearance is everything when it comes to television and you’re a female trying to become established in your career.
But despite that, I do a little happy dance on the inside. Not because I want to be on TV. But because now I have a chance to turn something I love doing into a career.
I have a purpose—the thing that has been absent for a while now.
“Thank you, Uncle Jacob. I would love to do that.”
“We have a team meeting at nine a.m. on Tuesday. I’ll introduce you to everyone then.” He holds out his hand to me like I’m a business associate…which I guess I am now.
After I shake it, he turns to Mark. “Tell Patricia that we have Evie’s replacement, and she can call off the search for someone to fill the spot.”
His assistant nods, removes his phone from the pocket of his trousers, and hurries outside to presumably make the call.
Because my uncle has to catch a flight to New York City for a TV interview, he and Mark leave shortly after Mark returns.
Once they’re gone, I let out a hard breath, unsure what to do with myself. My gaze travels around the first floor, taking in everything I’ve accomplished. I have no idea if Charlotte would have appreciated the changes I made, but I love how it turned out.
Now I just have to hope someone else falls in love with the house and wants to buy the property.
Troy gives me a big hug, then playfully messes my hair up. “Welcome to the team, cuz.”
“Wow, I wasn’t expecting that.”
He smiles. “You’ve earned it.”
There’s something slightly off about his smile, but before I have a chance to question it, my phone rings from the kitchen table.
Thinking it’s Noah, I rush over to it as fast as my leg allows.
It’s not him. It’s Tiffany.
I accept the call.
“Please tell me you’re returning tomorrow night, and please tell me you haven’t gained any weight while in Montana.” The words rush out faster than a float in the Rose Bowl Parade speeding down a steep slope after the brakes fail.
“That’s right, and no I haven’t.”
Tiffany lets out a noticeably relieved breath. “That’s good. One of Victoria’s bridesmaids is sick, and you’re the only person who is her size.”
28
Kate
Standing in Charlotte’s kitchen,I glance briefly at my phone, checking that it hasn’t sprouted wings and is exhaling tiny puffs of flames. It hasn’t, which means I’m not hallucinating.
I return the phone to my ear. “What exactly are you trying to tell me?” I ask Tiffany.
“She needs you to be her bridesmaid.”
That’s what I was afraid she was going to say. “I can’t be her bridesmaid. I haven’t had any bridesmaid training.” The girls who are in the wedding party have been doing practically everything together—according to Tiffany’s regular updates to me. And the rehearsal was last week.
I’d be like the cheerleader who has been skipping out on practice.
And that can’t be good.
