Almost Amish (4 page)

“Lift your chin up just a little and look over my left shoulder.”

Susan did as the photographer—whose name she hadn’t been told—said, hoping she didn’t look like a complete amateur. She concentrated on presenting a polished and in-control demeanor for the camera but couldn’t be sure it came across that way.

“Just a minute.” The stylist rushed over to dust Susan’s forehead with a bit of powder. Then she took a comb and painstakingly adjusted what felt like only a few strands of hair. “There now, that’s better.” She hurried behind the photographer, and the camera began to click once again.

The photographer pulled the camera away from his face, tilted his head, and stared. He nodded twice, forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Hmm. Let’s try a few without a smile. Show me your best power pose.” He pulled the camera back up to his face, ready for action.

Susan had no idea what a power pose might look like, but she tried to visualize magazine photos she’d seen of women CEOs over the years. She folded her arms across her chest and turned sideways a little, pretty certain she’d seen this one before.

“Umm, no, I don’t think that works.” Kendra Stern, the segment producer for the Lisa Lee show, stepped from the shadows. “We do want to portray her as competent, but we want to keep a homey edge to it. Maybe something a bit more relaxed.”

“Right. How about turning that chair a quarter turn, rest your elbow on the back of it, and your chin in your hand.”

Susan did as she was told and waited.

“It still looks a little . . . stilted,” Kendra said.

The photographer squinted, “Maybe if you don’t sit quite so straight. Try to look relaxed, like you’ve just arrived at your cozy home after a hard day’s work.”

Susan tried to ease back a little. Somehow she felt a bit slumped, but she did as she was told as the camera began clicking again.

“Okay, I think we’ve got enough to work with here. Thank you, Carl.” Kendra took a step forward. “You’ll email the proofs this afternoon?”

The photographer loaded his camera into its case. “Yep.” He looked toward Susan then and nodded. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Susan watched him leave the room, followed by the stylist, and wondered what to expect next.

“Now, a few more things we need to talk about.” Kendra walked over and popped the latches on her leather briefcase. “I’ve been speaking with the publisher we’re planning to use for your
Simple Hospitality
book. They’ve created a couple of mock-ups for a potential book cover.”

She held up a full-page glossy showing a rustic table set with a checked tablecloth and covered with a bounty of meat, bowls of vegetables, baskets of breads, and at least three latticed pies.

“This one has potential, but there’s nothing that really pops. It looks like any other book already out there.” She shuffled the papers to reveal the next choice.

A twilight sky hovered over a barn that looked much like the barn in this very place. Off to the left, in the foreground stood a white farmhouse, no shutters, a colorful flower bed still visible beneath the fading sky. Yellow light shone from a window, an oil lamp visible inside. The title was written across the top in white script letters,
Simple Hospitality.

“That one’s nice,” Susan said, leaning forward to study it more closely. A shiver of excitement ran up her arms at the thought that this really might happen.

“Yes, it is.” Kendra paused for a moment. “Here’s the thing. As you are undoubtedly aware, last year we did
Going Almost Blue Blood
with Abigail Phreaner and her family.”

“Yes, I remember.” Susan had tuned in every Friday to watch the progress of an ordinary family who had been put in New York social circles for the sake of the show.

“Those episodes drew large ratings. But when we partnered in the publishing of
Upper Crust Living for Everyone,
well, the sales were not as stellar as we’d anticipated. In follow-up surveys, it turned out that many of the viewers didn’t really identify with Abigail, per se, and never felt that she changed or became more refined—she just got to live in an interesting situation. In other words, she failed to gain a perceived level of expertise.”

Susan tried to keep breathing. This
had
to work out for her. “So what does that mean for me?”

Kendra shrugged. “It means the publisher has indicated they might reconsider the book if things aren’t absolutely ideal.”

“And what is ‘ideal?’ ” Whatever it was, Susan would do it. Although she was getting paid a small stipend for being a part of the show, the big payoff was to come afterward. The cookbook or lifestyle book. Recurring segments on the Lisa Lee show. Maybe her own show one day? That was the goal.

Susan might have lost her husband to a twenty-years-younger home-wrecker, but that was the last thing she’d lose. Not her house. Not her dreams. Angie needed stability in her life, and Susan was the only one left who could provide that.

Kendra looked directly into her eyes. “You need to be the best possible
Almost Amish
person this world has ever seen. You need to make certain that the viewers see you in that light. That they all want to be more like you. We want to see you embodying the simple lifestyle.”

Susan straightened her back. “I won’t let you down.”

“Good.” Kendra put the mock-ups back in her briefcase. “Now let’s step out and get a few shots outside the house. I’ve just been notified the rest of your family has arrived.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t hear the car pull up.”

“That’s because it didn’t. They were dropped off at the head of the drive, about a half mile out.”

Susan looked at Kendra. “You mean they’re having to walk? In this heat? With all their things?”

The left side of Kendra’s mouth twitched oh so slightly. “It wouldn’t make for good reality television if there wasn’t a little bit of discomfort, now would it?”

“But you drove Angie and me right up to the house.”

“We needed you for the photo shoot. And remember, you’ll make simplicity look easy. . . .” She tilted her head to the left and smiled. “Everyone else will show just how hard it is.”

A group of people spilled out of the storage barn, talking amongst themselves. Julie scanned the group until she saw Susan in their midst, dressed to the hilt and styled to perfection. She practically glowed.

“There’s Aunt Susan. Wow, she looks beautiful. Look at her hair, her clothes.” Whitney’s smile was huge. “I have to admit, I was afraid they were going to make us live so
au naturel
that I’d be stuck with my hair sticking out in all directions for the next three months.” She paused for a moment. “I don’t want to get quite that fancy, though. I hope they won’t make us dress up like that.”

“I think we’re about to find out,” Julie said as the crew suddenly turned in unison.

“I should’ve brushed my hair.” Whitney put a hand up to her frizz and pulled at a strand. “Like that would help at this point. I’m doomed.”

“Girls.” Brian let out a long and disgusted sigh. “You don’t hear me whining about not brushing my hair.”

Susan waved up toward them, then hurried over to join them. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here.” She hugged Julie. “Can I help you with anything? Whitney, Brian, so good to see you.”

“Oh, there you are. We’d begun to think you’d gotten lost on the walk over.” The woman wore a perfectly tailored white shirt and dark jeans tight enough to show that not an ounce of fat lingered underneath. Her hair was short and layered, with blond highlights that framed her elegant cheekbones and jawline. “I’m Kendra Stern, the onsite segment producer.”

“I’m Julie Charlton; this is Whitney and Brian.”

“So pleased to finally meet you.” Kendra’s gold loop earrings glinted in the sun.

Julie became keenly aware of the bermuda shorts and polo shirt she’d chosen for traveling, the unstyled ponytail, the ten pounds that she’d been meaning to lose forever.

Susan was wearing a sleeveless top the color of pale butter, and black linen pants that didn’t seem to understand they were supposed to wrinkle. “We just finished up a little segment that will air this Friday.” Susan’s smile was huge, and there was something about her eyes, something besides the professionally applied makeup that looked different. It took Julie a moment, but then she realized what it was she was seeing.

Hope.

Excitement.

Things that had disappeared from Susan’s life this last year. “I’m so glad we get to experience this with you.” She looked around. “Where’s Angie?”

Susan smiled and nodded toward the barn. “I think she’s checking out the animals.”

“Can we go, Mom?” Whitney had already taken a step toward the barn.

“Sure. Go put your duffels on the porch first.”

“Actually, we’ll take care of those for you.” Kendra raised her left hand and motioned toward the film crew. “Chris, take the Charltons’ things, please.”

A young man stepped from the crowd. Likely somewhere in his late teens, he looked almost gothic, but not quite. His asymmetrical hair was so black Julie suspected it was dyed, and the right side dipped long enough that it partially covered one of his incredibly blue eyes. His T-shirt was black with a white guitar across it, but his jeans were blue and he wore surfer-style flip-flops.

He took their bags without comment, tossing Whitney’s backpack over his left shoulder. When he reached for Brian’s telescope case, Brian shot out his hand. “Be careful with that. It’s a delicate piece of scientific equipment.”

Chris grinned and returned a single nod. “You got it.”

The kids walked off in the general direction of the barn, and Julie returned her attention to Kendra. “So what do you need for us to do?”

She extended her right arm, making a sweeping motion in the air. “Make yourself at home. For now, you just settle in and relax, get used to the place. Tomorrow we’re going to take a tour of the real Amish country near here and see how that all works. It’ll be a few days before we get serious about your weekly assignment.”

“Sounds good.”

“There are a couple of things you need to be aware of.”

“Okay.”

“Anything upstairs—bathrooms, bedrooms—is off-limits for our cameras and recorders. However, anywhere that is considered a public area is fair game. Our goal is to catch some true snippets of what this lifestyle is really like for a modern family, complete with all the frustrations.”

Julie shivered at the thought of being watched, but this was part of the deal. She’d known that from the beginning. “In other words, when we come downstairs, we’d better mind what we say, and we’d better have clothes on.”

“I would definitely recommend the clothes part—we’re a family-friendly show, you know. However, I’m really hoping that you won’t always watch what you say. Those are the things that make for good television, aren’t they?”

“Uh . . . I guess so.”

“Also, there is to be absolutely no contact with any of the crew. You do not speak to them; they do not speak to you.”

“You mean we can only talk to each other?” Julie had never considered anything this rigid.

“You can always talk to me when I’m on set. And we’ll be sending in various helpers for different tasks. These are locals, not crew members, and they’re fine. Any friends you might make in your limited activities in town or at church are also fine, but remember, you may not go anywhere with them in their vehicles. Automobiles are off-limits unless you are with one of our drivers.”

For years, Julie had fantasized about a slower life. A quieter life. Somehow, in this agreement, she wondered if she might have gotten a little too much of a good thing.

“Thank you so much for being willing to do this. There aren’t many women I know whose sisters-in-law would uproot their kids like this for an entire summer.”

I’m the one who should be thanking you
. “Of course they would. That’s what families do.”

“I’m glad you’re in my family, then. I saw the kids head for the house. Let’s go inside. I haven’t even seen it yet.”

She hadn’t even been inside yet? “How long have you been here?”

“We got here several hours ago, but we spent the entire time in that little storage shed, which they’ve turned into a production office and our official interview set. They’re calling it ‘the shack.’ Oh, and we did make a quick foray into the barn, which is where I lost Angie. Last time I saw her she was petting a little calf.”

“Cows, really?” Julie looked toward the barn. “This experience is going to be so great for the kids.” And for all of them.

“Yes, it will.” As they started walking toward the farmhouse, Susan said, “Think what an interesting college application essay this experience could make.”

“College essay?” So much for slowing down. “Are you already thinking about that?”

“Of course. Angie will be a senior next year, and early applications will be due shortly after we get back. Whitney’s only a year behind Angie. It wouldn’t do her any harm for you to start thinking about it, either. These days, you need every advantage possible if your kids want to go to a topnotch school.”