Page 55 of The Homewreckers
Hattie cleared her throat. “Ignore Trae. Ithinkwhat he means is, that outfit, while comfortable, and practical, doesn’t exactly play up your best assets.”
“Cass, don’t worry,” Lisa said. “Jodi showed me your outfit. It’s just skinny jeans and a T-shirt. You’ve got a cute butt on you. So why not play it up?”
“Maybe I don’t want to play it up because I don’t want any of these pervy subs getting the wrong idea,” Cass said, still pouting.
“I promise, it’s nothing provocative or revealing,” Lisa said.
Cass was back in five minutes, wearing the slim-fit jeans and a short-sleeved coral-colored T-shirt with a V-neck.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Trae said, appreciatively. “Pants that actually fit, plus that color’s great on you, whereas that putrid green? Not so much.”
“So now you’re a fashion expert, too?” Cass asked.
“Just a designer with an innate color sense,” he said.
“He might be obnoxious, but he’s right,” Hattie said. “Sorry.”
The trailer door opened and Gage, Mo’s assistant, stuck his head inside. “Hattie? Trae? We’re ready for you inside the house.”
With the cameras rolling, Trae dipped a brush in the first can of paint and applied it to a section of siding on the front of the house. He looked over at Hattie. “What do you think?”
She shook her head. “Too bright. That aqua would be great on one of the mid-century concrete block cottages on the island, but it’s not right for a house this old.”
He nodded and opened the next can, but Hattie stopped him. “Ew. No.”
“But it’s a historic color,” he protested. “Swiss mocha.”
“Tastes great in coffee, but who wants brown at the beach? Definitely not.”
He held up the next can. “White. I’ve noticed a lot of wood-frame houses from this era are painted a stark white. This shade is a little softer, and we can do something interesting on the trim and shutters. Maybe a dark Charleston green.”
She watched as he brushed the paint onto the siding, then stood back and studied it.
“Technically, it’s right for the period, but it’s sort of boring, don’t you think?”
“I agree,” Trae said. “And that’s why I saved the best for last.”
He popped the top of the last can of paint with a dramatic “Ta-da! I give you Tybee Beach Glass!”
Without waiting for her comment, he painted a wide swath of clapboard siding.
The paint was a soft, grayed-down blue-green.
“I like it,” Hattie said, taking a step backward, then tilting her head.
“I was down by that shed near the beach and I noticed this old wooden boat with the most gorgeous faded, salt-glazed blue-green. It reminds me of a piece of beach glass. I scraped a bit of the paint off it and had it color matched at the paint store this morning.”
“Perfect!” she beamed. “Tybee Beach Glass it is.”
“White trim? Doors painted orange-pink?”
Hattie looked dubious. “Orange-pink?”
He picked up a smaller can of paint and popped the lid, holding it up for her to see, then brushed a small square of coral paint onto the siding. “This reminds me of a hibiscus blossom.”
“I never would have picked that color for the door, but actually, I’m kind of loving it,” she said.
“Wait!” Trae said, feigning shock. “Are we actually agreeing on a design decision?”
