Page 100 of The Homewreckers
He turned and pointed to Trae. “I need you and Hattie, in the kitchen, discussing the plans for the cabinets. Leetha can fill you in on what she wants. Later on, we’ll film some stuff upstairs in the bedrooms.” He turned to scan the crowd and his eyes settled on Cass, who stood at the back of the tent, looking shell-shocked.
“Cass, can you order some construction screening? Unfortunately, the cops don’t want us backfilling that septic tank just yet, but I need it screened off, because it’s a safety hazard, and also, pretty freaking creepy.”
“Yeah.” She took her phone from the pocket of her work pants. “I’ll call right now.”
Leetha stepped forward. “Okay, Hattie and Trae, I’m gonna need you in hair and makeup. We’re gonna shoot some exterior stuff of the front of the house, but that can wait until after the kitchen shots. In the meantime, Cass, let’s get your guys busy doing the tiling in the bathrooms, and maybe setting up everything to install the new fireplace mantel this afternoon?”
Cass nodded.
The somber-faced crew began to drift back toward the house, but Hattie noticed that Cass was run-walking in the direction of the river, giving a wide berth to the gaping hole in the earth.
She found her best friend sitting on the seawall, her shoulders hunched together, rising and falling with uncontrollable sobs.
“Cass?” In all the years Hattie had known Cassidy Pelletier, she’d never seen her in such a state. She sat down on the concrete abutment and put an arm around Cass’s shoulders.
“You okay?”
“N-n-no,” Cass managed. She buried her face in her hands. “I’ll never be okay.”
Hattie waited a minute. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Can you talk to me?”
Cass shook her head, took a deep breath, and turned sorrowful, red-rimmed eyes toward Hattie.
“I can’t stand this.”
“What?”
“Lying to you. Lying to everyone. I’m such a fucking fraud.”
“Hey!” Hattie tried to tamp down the alarm in her voice. “You’re not a fraud, and you’re not a liar. C’mon, Cass. This is me. You can tell me anything.”
Cass used her shirt sleeve to wipe her eyes. “It’s so awful. I don’t know if I can.”
“What?” Hattie said, trying to cheer her up. “Are you trying to tell me you killed Lanier Ragan?”
“No. But I think I know who did.” Cass let out a long, shuddering sigh. “And that’s just as bad. Because I never said anything. I never told anyone. Because I’m a fucking coward, and a fraud. You’re gonna hate me, but not as much as I hate me.”
“I could never hate you,” Hattie said. “After all you’ve been through with me? The mess with my dad, and then, when Hank was killed? You and your family literally saved my life. I don’t know what I would have done without you. So just talk to me. Please?”
Cass stared out at the river. “Holland Creedmore. Fucking Holland Creedmore Junior. I can’t stand hearing his name. Hattie, I think he did it. I think he killed her. Jesus! What was I thinking?”
“Wait. Slow down. What are you talking about?”
“In high school. Sophomore year. I… hooked up with him.” She turned and looked at Hattie, who gazed back in shock. “And I knew he was hooking up with her, too.”
“How?” was all Hattie could manage.
“I went to a pep rally, with Sophie Dorman, and a friend of hers who went to Country Day School. Sarabeth something. I’ve blocked her last name. Sarabeth had a car, and said we should go to a party after, because all these hot guys would be there. It was like the second week of school.”
“You went to a hot-guy party without me?” Hattie joked. “Now I really do hate you.”
“The party was at some rich kid’s house at Isle of Hope. The parents were out of town. They had a bottle of Captain Morgan rum.…”
“Oh God.” Hattie felt sick. “I think I know where this is going.”
“Sophie freaked out and called her brother to come pick her up. Lucky her. But I wanted to play it cool, so I decided to stay. I drank some rum and Coke, and this cute blond guy started talking to me.…”
“Holland fucking Creedmore,” Hattie said.
