Page 162 of The Homewreckers
“I just got off a long phone call with him,” Carolyn said. “He and his wife are ecstatic about having the house back in the family. They love how you brought the place back to life, and what they love most is the prospect of never having to deal with their Savannah cousins again. So, what do you say?”
Hattie had been taking notes during the conversation, underlining the sale price and adding exclamation marks.
“The answer is yes. Absolutely. I accept.”
“Great. I’ll write up the contract and email it as soon as we get off the phone. Sign it, and shoot it back to me. What’s a good closing date for you?”
“How’s tomorrow?”
Carolyn laughed. “That’s maybe a little premature. I know they’re planning on flying down this weekend. Let’s see if we can do the walk-through and closing next Friday.”
“That works for me,” Hattie said.
Hattie disconnected the call and grabbed Cass’s hands. “Sold, sold, sold!” Hattie sang out, as they did a clumsy ring-around-the-rosy waltz around the office. “We sold the house! We sold the house!” They danced over to Zenobia and coaxed her into joining them. “Sold! Sold! Sold!”
“All right, y’all, that’s enough foolishness for me,” Zen said finally, extricating herself from the other two women. “I got work to do.”
“Promise you’ll call me first thing tomorrow,” Hattie whispered to Cass. “I wanna hear all about your date with Jimmy.”
“Looks like it’s just you and me again, Ribsy,” Hattie said. She fed him a bite of steak from the burrito she’d picked up at her favorite Mexican restaurant on Victory Drive, and tried not to feel sorry for herself.
“Better to be alone than with the wrong guy, right?” she asked the dog, who wagged his tail in response.
She ran her hand over the granite countertop, which she’d bribed two of her painters into hauling into the house and installing earlier that afternoon. It was white with pale gray flecks and gleamed in the harsh light of the naked lightbulb overhead.
“Should have kept those brass lanterns for my own kitchen,” she groused. “But hey, now I’ve got an excuse to hunt down some more.” She picked up a tile from the box on the counter and finished the row she’d laid out. “Time for mortar mix, right, sport?”
Instead of answering, Ribsy’s ears pricked up and he dashed through the house toward the front door, barking as he ran.
As soon as she opened the door Ribsy launched himself into the visitor’s arms. Mo laughed and dropped to the floor of the porch as the dog wriggled and wagged and licked his face with a series of ecstatic yips.
Mo looked up at Hattie. “At least somebody’s glad to see me.”
She was momentarily speechless. “Mo? What are you doing here?”
“I’ve got news. And I tried calling, but as usual, got no answer. Do you even know where your phone is?”
“Oh. Damn. I guess I left it in the pocket of my work pants again after I got out of the shower,” she said.
“I did warn you that I’d be dropping in again,” Mo said. “Are you going to invite me inside?”
“Want something to eat?” she asked, gesturing toward the foil takeout container on the kitchen counter. “There’s some black beans and rice, and some chips and guac.”
“No, thanks,” he said, gazing around the room. “Looks like the cobbler’s children are finally getting some shoes.”
“Yeah,” she said, feeling suddenly shy. “I couldn’t let that tile left over from Chatham Avenue go to waste. Hey—guess what? We sold the house. Carolyn called to tell me this afternoon.”
“That’s great!” Mo said. “Did you get your asking price?”
“We came close,” Hattie said. “Close enough that I said yes. It’s a cash offer. We close on Friday.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That’s fast. Do they know about the body?”
“They do. Turns out the buyer is actually Holland Senior’s much-despised Yankee cousin. Carolyn says the feeling is mutual.”
Mo leaned back against the counter. He was wearing faded blue jeans and a Dodgers T-shirt that had seen better days. He needed a haircut, and there were dark circles under his eyes, but he smiled that slow, lazy grin as he let his eyes wander over her body and Hattie’s stomach did an involuntary little flip-flop.
“I’ve missed you, Hattie,” he said.
