One To Watch(16)

“Holy moly, Bea, that’s a big deal!” Tim’s wife, Tina, was a petite brunette with streaky highlights and a singsong Minnesota accent. “Do ya think you’ll get married?”

“Oh my God, married?” Bea’s mother lit up, her initial skepticism now tinged with euphoria.

“They get married on the show? Do you have to?”

“No, not on the show, but she’s supposed to get engaged! That’s the whole point!”

“Is that true, Bea? You’re getting engaged?”

“Do you know who the men are yet? Have you met ’em?”

“Do you really date all of them, or do you just pick one at the beginning?”

“You’re not going to have S-E-X on TV, are you?”

“Mom, not in front of the kids, please!”

“Hi, Aunt Bea!!”

“Hi, JJ!” Bea waved to her oldest nephew, Jon Junior, who was now eleven and already a Pop Warner star, just like his dad had been all those years before him.

“So Bea,” Jon chimed in, “does this mean you’re going to be, you know?”

“What?”

Jon made a weird sort of wiggling gesture with his fingers. “Famous.”

Jon’s wife, Carol, hit him on the arm. “Bea’s already famous! She has six hundred thousand followers on Instagram.”

“Yeah, but that’s Instagram famous,” Tina countered. “This is real famous.”

“Now, hold on just one minute,” Sue interrupted. “Are we going to be on television?”

Bea sighed. “If you want to be, yes, I think you are.”

At this, the entire family started hooting and cheering until one of the nieces jumped up and down and hit her head sharply on the computer desk, which caused a general commotion and premature ending of the call without a formal goodbye. All in all, Bea thought the whole thing had gone much better than expected.

But a few hours later, Bea’s phone rang—it was her stepdad, Bob, who’d stayed mostly silent on the group call.

“Hiya, Bean.”

“Hi, Bop.” Bea loved that she and Bob still used their nicknames from her childhood. “Everyone go home?”

“Ah, yep, it was a little too much excitement around these parts, the kids burnt themselves out pretty quick.”

“You mean you didn’t all have a calm, quiet dinner after I hung up the phone?”

“Bean, when has this crowd ever had a calm, quiet dinner?”

“Ha, you make a point. But …”

“What is it?”

“Really, though, what did everyone say after we talked? Do they think this is crazy?”

“Well, sure, it is a little crazy, isn’t it? Not every day someone in the family is going to be a big TV star. To be honest, I think Tina’s a little miffed you beat her to the punch.”

“What about you, Bop?” Bea asked softly. “Do you think I’m nuts to do this?”

“Bean, you’ve been charting your own course the whole time I’ve known you, and that’s since you’re four years old. Your mother about had a panic attack when you announced you were going to college in Los Angeles, and then a semester in France. You wanted a big life for yourself, and you’re making one. That’s not an easy thing to do either.”

“So you don’t think America is going to hate me?”

Bob laughed. “America makes all kinds of bad decisions—there’s no accounting for taste. But no, I think they’ll love you just as much as we do.”

“All the way up the beanstalk?”

“And all the way home, my magic Bean. You’re gonna knock ’em dead.”



As filming drew nearer, the demands on Bea’s time grew increasingly intense: prep work with a PR specialist to craft talking points for her impending media blitz, practice sessions with a media consultant to perfect the delivery of said talking points, endless test shots with wardrobe and makeup and lighting and camera, and network photo shoots that should have been fun but were mostly just exhausting.

“Can you smile a little bigger?” Lauren urged. “You know, like you’re about to find love?”

Bea did her best to look overjoyed, but from Lauren’s mutterings about “making her look happy in post,” Bea guessed she hadn’t quite hit the mark.

There was one part Bea loved, though—the time she spent in wardrobe with her favorite person on the Main Squeeze crew: a no-nonsense tyrant named Alison who looked like a mild-mannered English major who sold hand-knit scarves on Etsy but who ran her department with the efficiency of an elite counterterrorism unit.

Bea had been nervous that her stylist for the show would be some typical Hollywood waif without the first clue how to dress a body like Bea’s, but Alison was a surprise in the best possible way: She was absolutely stunning, with sea-green eyes and honeyed hair, her style was gorgeous and muted with soft textures and earthy tones. And she was a good few sizes larger than Bea. The two women burst out laughing and shared a tight hug the very first time they met.

“Bea!” Alison laughed with delight. “I’m so happy to meet you!”

“Oh my God.” Bea nearly cried with relief. “I’m so happy to meet you.”