They both laughed at that and ended the call with promises to stay in touch as they each counted down the next few weeks: Amanda to deliver her baby girl, and Bree to return to her real life in California.
After a shower and a bowl of cereal, Bree pulled on a pair of skinny jeans and a T-shirt from Gallant Lake, advertising her cousin’s resort.
Beyond the compact kitchen, the rest of the cottage consisted of one more bedroom, a small bathroom with a claw-foot tub, the living room and the front bedroom she’d slept in. The living room opened to a covered front porch facing the road. While the decor wasn’t awful, it was...simple. It reminded her of the plain suburban home she’d grown up in back in Corona, California. That might be why it made her slightly uncomfortable. It represented everything she’d been trying to run away from since her eighteenth birthday.
There was a small bookcase in the back bedroom, and she pulled out a well-worn paperback. The cover featured a bare-chested man with long, dark hair, clutching a red-haired woman in a green velvet gown. A rearing horse in jousting gear was in the background, in front of an imposing castle.
“If I’m going to be here alone for the next few weeks, I may as well enjoy a trashy romance novel.” She grimaced, partly at the book and partly at the realization that she was once again talking to herself. Out loud.
The brave heroine was just beginning to succumb to the brooding charm of her medieval captor when Bree was startled by a knock at the door. She was surprised to see it was almost noon. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment for losing herself so completely in a bodice-ripper, as if she’d been caught being naughty. She tucked the paperback between the cushions of the sofa and went to the door. On the porch stood her biggest fan in the entire town of Russell, North Carolina: young Emily Caldwell. Emily grinned and raised her hands.
“I don’t have a camera, I promise! My mom and I are having lunch over at Miss Nell’s, and we thought you might want to join us. She made sweet tea and we’re having pimento cheese sandwiches on the porch. I promise not to act like a starstruck idiot today.”
The girl’s humor and friendliness touched Bree unexpectedly. She had no idea what a pimento cheese sandwich was, but she suddenly wanted one more than anything. If she didn’t find a way to socialize while she was here, she’d lose her mind. Or end up addicted to historical romances.
“I’d like that, Emily. I’d like that a lot.”
NELL PATTERSON SAT in her rocking chair and sipped from a tall glass of cold sweet tea. Emily was seated on the steps leading to Nell’s front yard, her hand idly scratching Shep’s ears as the old dog snored by her side. Emily’s mother, Tammy, was on the porch swing with Bree, humming softly to herself as a light breeze brought some blessed relief from the sweltering humidity of the afternoon. The four women had fallen into a comfortable silence after hours of nonstop talk and laughter.
Nell had quickly dispensed with everyone’s initial awkwardness during lunch by asking thoughtful questions and showing genuine interest. Bree found herself giggling at the stories Nell told about the farm animals and some of the customers who came to her fruit and vegetable stand. Tammy talked about her job as a teacher and the bar that was Ty’s pride and joy.
After a bout of shyness, Emily opened up and shared a story about the sophomore class pulling a prank on the high school principal, filling the floor of his pickup truck with ping-pong balls that came bouncing out when he opened his door. Tammy rolled her eyes and winked at her daughter, and Bree felt a pang at the look shared between mother and daughter. It reminded her of times she’d shared with her own mom. The memory was like a paper cut on her heart, unexpected and sharp in its sting.
Bree was reluctant to join in, worried that talking about her Hollywood life would sound pretentious. Which made her wonder if perhaps it was. She sighed.
Tammy turned. “You okay over there?”
“Just feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment.”
“You have friends here. You know that, right?” Tammy rested her hand on Bree’s leg. “Ty told me everything while we were on our way back from Fayetteville.” Ty and Tammy had returned her rental car early that morning. Bree glanced down at Emily, but Tammy went on. “Emily knows, too. I appreciate that you tried to shield her from it, but she’s almost sixteen and more mature than she may have seemed yesterday. It must be scary for you, going from your life to...this.”
“Please don’t take offense, Tammy, but I’m a fish out of water here.” She liked these women. They were so different from women she’d met in Hollywood, who tended to view all other females as adversaries and threats. A simple dinner party there was often nothing more than a prettily disguised battle, with winners and losers clawing for social status.
She didn’t feel the need to be on guard while sipping tea on Nell’s shaded front porch, moving slowly back and forth on the swing. There was no sense of competition, no furtive glances to see what the others were doing or wearing.
Tammy laughed softly. “Why would I take offense? I’d feel just as out of place if you dropped me in the middle of Hollywood.”
“Sweetheart, you’re doing fine,” Nell said. “You broke bread with us today, and we had some good laughs and told stories and passed an afternoon together.”
Bree nodded. “Yes, but it’s day one of what could be several weeks. What am I going to do? I hardly have any clothes, and I’m afraid to go shopping for fear I’ll be recognized. I’ll go stir-crazy if I don’t keep busy, but how can I do that if I don’t do something to look...different?”
“Are you saying you want to change your looks? Like a disguise?” Emily’s interest in the conversation had shifted back into gear. “We could take you to Aunt Melissa’s and she could change your hair! And Mom and I could go shopping for clothes for you. We could give you an alias. It would be perfect!”
“Who’s Aunt Melissa?”
“My sister,” Tammy said, looking thoughtful. “She has a hair salon over in Benton. She’d never tell a soul. It might just work...if that’s what you want. And I could run up to Fayetteville and pick up clothes for you...”
“No!” Emily was almost bouncing with excitement. “I want to be the one who picks out her clothes! I want to make her a country girl!”
Nell shook her head. “Emily, you know full well that clothes don’t make a country girl. It’s the living that does it.” She’d been watching Bree carefully all through lunch, and there were moments when Bree distinctly felt as if the older woman was sizing her up.
“You’re right, Brianna—you’re going to go stir-crazy if you don’t keep yourself busy. I told you yesterday that I needed some help. Get yourself over here in the morning and help me pick vegetables and clean the barn. If we have time, I’ll show you how to bake some of my bread you like so much. New clothes are fine, Emily, but make them working clothes. Miss Mathews is going to learn how to farm.”
“Oh, Nell, I don’t think so...” She tried to come up with an objection, but her mind went blank. It wasn’t like she had anything else to do.
“You don’t need to think. You just need to show up and let me teach you how to be a country girl, not just look like one.”
Within an hour they had a plan in place. Tammy would take Emily to Fayetteville to shop, using a couple of the untraceable gift cards Bree had purchased at JFK before flying to North Carolina. Since Emily would be shopping at Target instead of Escada, Bree was pretty sure no one would recognize her in her new clothing. But just in case, they would make a clandestine visit to Tammy’s sister’s salon on Saturday before