Page 22 of The Homewreckers
Hattie felt the blood drain from her face. Surely the network wouldn’t care about her father’s embezzlement conviction and the resulting scandal. It was old history. Her legal name was HarrietLaing Kavanaugh. She’d taken her mother’s maiden name after her parents’ split, and of course, Hank’s name when they married.
“Right.” Hattie scribbled her name beside the neon-colored arrow and turned to the next page.
Rebecca anticipated her next question. “And that’s a non-disclosure agreement. Also standard in the industry. It just says that any dealings you have with the network or its employees are to remain strictly confidential. So, no leaks about any on-set drama, no tell-all stories in the tabloids.”
Hattie signed on the line next to the arrow and handed the documents back to Rebecca.
Mo exhaled slowly. “Great! What do you say I take you two ladies out to lunch to celebrate the start of a beautiful relationship?”
“Thanks, but I’d better not,” Hattie said, standing up. “I’ve got Tug out cruising the neighborhoods looking for houses to flip, and Zenobia and Cass are scouring the real estate listings trying to come up with some possibilities.”
“I can’t stay either,” Rebecca said, gathering all the documents into her briefcase. “My car should be here any minute.”
“Car?” Mo said dumbly. “You’re not staying over?”
“I wish!” Rebecca said. “I’ve got to get back to L.A. Lots of meetings, as always. But I’ve met and signed our new star, so my work here is done.”
Rebecca’s cell phone pinged. “Damn. There’s my car.” She gave Hattie a brief hug. “Can’t wait to get busy onHomewreckers. You’re going to be amazing!”
10With This Ring
Davis Hoffman lifted the lid of the velvet box and held the jeweler’s loupe to his eye and peered down at the large diamond solitaire, which was mounted between a pair of perfectly matched sapphires. “Nice,” he said under his breath. “Beautiful cut and clarity.” He ran his index finger over the delicately chased and engraved platinum band. “Beautiful workmanship here too. It’s exquisite.”
Hattie tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She wiped sweaty palms on her jeans.
“Davis? I… I really don’t want to sell it.”
“Hank gave you this?”
Davis and Hank had been friends all through prep school at Cardinal Mooney Catholic. After high school, Davis had gone off to college up north, to study architecture at Princeton. But after his father’s death, his mother had prevailed on him to come home to work in the family business, Heritage Jewelers, whose storefront on Broughton Street had been a Savannah landmark for as long as Hattie could remember.
She nodded, tears stinging her eyes. “It was his grandmother’s ring. According to Tug, your grandfather made this ring himself.”
“I should have recognized this swirling magnolia blossom pattern,” Davis said, running a fingertip over the elegant chasing. “It was Granddad’s signature design. This kind of old-world craftsmanship is a thing of the past.”
“I know,” Hattie whispered. “It’s just…”
“You need cash.” Davis gave her a kind smile. No pitying, just understanding.
“I do.” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
She filled him in on the HPTV show, and the dilemma she was facing. “I’m strapped for cash. Our last flip didn’t really work out and we had to sell it for a loss. The only way I can dig myself out of this hole I’m in is if I do this show. But I can’t flip a house I don’t own.”
“Have you found a house to buy?”
“We’re working on it. I don’t want to jinx the deal by talking about it.”
Davis twirled the ring on his finger. “Estate jewelry is hot right now. Our millennial brides love the idea that they’re getting something with a history. They even have a word for this style—grand millennial. I could probably get seventy-five thousand for this ring, with the right customer.”
Hattie gasped. “That much? I had no idea. I haven’t worn it since Hank died. My work has me crawling around under houses all the time and I’m terrified I’ll lose one of the stones.”
“Tell you what,” Davis said, leaning across the glass-topped counter. “I’ll loan you forty thousand cash, using the ring for collateral. Will that help?”
Hattie swallowed hard. She looked down at the engagement ring, now glittering in its satin-lined nest, and thought about the night Hank had given it to her.
They’d been working all day on the house in Thunderbolt, tiling the new shower stall. She was hot and hungry and exhausted, and wanted to order a pizza and collapse into the bed, but Hank insisted they drive out to the beach and watch the sunset. They parked the truck and used the Eighteenth Street walkover to cross the dunes with a painter’s drop cloth for a picnic blanket.
Hattie had managed to step on a piece of glass and cut her foot and she was in a foul mood. As the sun slid toward the horizon, shewas still griping about idiots who ignored the signs forbidding glass on the beach when Hank leaned over and planted a kiss on her lips.
