Page 133 of The Homewreckers
“Takes one to know one,” Hattie said.
Cass got up and fetched a bottle of water from the fridge and sat back down again. “You still haven’t told me what freaked you out so bad today, back there at the house.”
“It started with that damned septic tank pit. I can’t stop thinking about Lanier.…”
“By tomorrow morning you’ll never know it was there,” Cass said.
“I’ll always know. And now, I know way more than I wish I did.” Hattie ran her hands through her hair. “Elise Hoffman dropped in at the office to have a ‘chat’ with me today.”
“Who?”
“Davis Hoffman’s ex. Skinny blonde, went to Country Day?”
“What did she want?”
“She wanted to make sure I’m not sleeping with Davis these days.”
“Eew. Gross. Where’d she get an idea like that?”
Hattie filled her in on the Hoffmans’ marital woes, and the $40,000 loan.
Cass’s eyes widened. “You pawned your engagement ring? To buy the house?”
“I had to get the money from somewhere.” Hattie looked down at her plate, out the window, anyplace but directly at her best friend’s unflinching gaze. “I even hit up my dad.”
“Shit. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was embarrassed. To admit the lengths I’d go to just to prove a point to Tug. And the world. That I could make a success of something, after the debacle at Tattnall Street.”
“That wasn’t your fault. Nobody blamed you.”
“Tug did. He lost a lot of money on that house, money he and Nancy can’t afford.”
“What are you talking about? Mom says they’re loaded, and sheoughtta know cuz she does the books. He owns like, a dozen rental houses around town, and a strip shopping center in Pooler.”
“That can’t be. He hasn’t bought a new truck in a decade, and he and Nancy still live in the same house they bought when Hank was a kid. He brings a sack lunch to work most days!”
Cass howled with laughter. “That’s because he’s tight as a tick. The Kavanaughs live that way because they want to.”
“Well, damn,” Hattie said. “Here I’ve been worrying my screwup would put them in the poorhouse.”
Cass cocked her head. “It’s always about proving yourself to other people, isn’t it? You’re the smartest, hardest-working woman I know, Hattie, but nobody has a poorer opinion of you than you.”
Hattie tipped the contents of her plate into Ribsy’s bowl, and he pounced.
“When did you turn into such an armchair psychiatrist?”
“Funny you should ask. I’ve started seeing a therapist.”
“Since when?”
Cass began boxing up the leftovers. “It’s been about six months now.”
“Does it help?”
Cass nodded. “I think so. It was Mom’s idea, actually.”
“Zen sent you to a shrink?”
