The Homewreckers(111)

“Why are you even awake?” Mo asked. “Where are you?”

“Oh, I’m in New York for sponsor meetings,” Rebecca said. “So you understand—you shoot the reveal on Friday. The reveal, the listing with the real estate agent, Tony wants to see all of it by Saturday.”

“That’s only four days counting today,” Mo protested. “We’ve still got a giant crater in the backyard here. The house isn’t anywhere near complete. You’re asking the impossible, Rebecca.”

“For anyone else, yes,” she cooed. “But not for Mo Lopez.”



* * *



Mo worked out a new, warp-speed filming schedule on the drive to Tybee. He deliberately pushed aside his personal feelings for Hattie Kavanaugh. But now she was standing right there in front of him and there was no more avoiding her. If she had any memory of what he’d said to her the night before, any memory of that dumb kiss, she was too good an actress to reveal it.

“All right. The light’s good, so let’s go ahead and shoot the dock now instead of waiting until later as we’d planned. Here’s what I need you guys to do,” he said briskly, addressing Hattie, Trae, and the crew. “I’ve had the guys test out the old planks on that dock. It’s shaky but stable. It’ll hold you guys, and the camera crew. You’re gonna walk out to the end, to that dock house out there, and talk about the view to that island over there.”

“It’s called Little Tybee,” she reminded him.

“Whatever. Hattie, you talk about what an asset the dock is to the beach lifestyle—you can keep a boat out there, kayak over to the island, fish, crab, blah, blah, blah. But the dock’s gotta be replaced, and it ain’t cheap. How much do you estimate that would cost—just materials?”

“We haven’t done a dock in a long time, but I’d say at least forty thousand. More if you include the dock house,” Hattie said.

“Great. Round it up to sixty thousand.” Mo gestured to the stocky, balding man standing a few feet away. “This is Gary Forehand. His company, Lumberlyke, is providing all the materials for the new dock. He’ll walk out there with you guys and you’ll chat a little.”

“Hi, Gary,” Hattie said. “Thanks so much for the free stuff.”

Forehand, who was dressed in sharply pressed khakis and a polo shirt with a Lumberlyke logo across the front, smiled and wiped at his sweaty forehead. “My pleasure. Uh, I’ve never done television before, so…”

“No worries,” Hattie said, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’d never done it either, until Mo here recruited me for Homewreckers.”

“What about me?” Trae asked.

Mo ignored him. “Gary, you’re gonna talk about the dock material, what it’s made out of…”

“Rot and weather resistant,” Forehand said, suddenly animated. “And a lifetime guarantee. We’re going to revolutionize this kind of application, which is especially great in coastal areas.”

“Great,” Mo said, looking down at his notes.

“Hello?” Trae repeated. “What am I going to be doing in this shot?”

Mo gave him his best deadeye. “You’ll walk out to the dock house and come up with some pie-in-the-sky, totally unrealistic ideas for improving it.…”

“First off, raise the roof. Then we screen it in, maybe build some low cushioned benches with storage underneath. A sink with running water and an under-counter mini fridge. I designed something similar for a lake lodge in Montana. Overhead we do a very cool retro ceiling fan…”

“Is Lumberlyke donating materials for any of that?” Hattie asked, her face impassive.

“Oh no, we’re strictly providing the raw building materials,” Foreman said, sounding alarmed. “I thought that was understood.”

“It is,” Mo said.

Hattie nodded. “We rebuild the dock. We can raise the roof of the dock house, and if there’s any money in the budget, we can talk about screening, but that’s about it, Trae.”

The designer shook his head in disgust. “Not even a kitchen sink?”

“I saw an old stainless-steel sink in the boat shed,” Hattie said. “Maybe you can design a counter thing out of the Lumberlyke material. Also some benches.” She flashed her winning smile at Gary Forehand. “That’d be okay, right?”

“Absolutely.” He beamed at her. “In fact, our company just bought a firm that makes lawn furniture from recycled plastics. Adirondack chairs, tables, things of that nature. You’d swear the pieces were cedar. Or even teak. I have a catalogue if you’d like to see some.…”

“Plastic furniture?” Trae asked. “I don’t think so.”

“Wait,” Hattie exclaimed. “Are we talking about TikiTeak? I love that stuff. I ordered a couple chaises for the pool house we did in Ardsley Park last year.”

“Yes, that’s right. TikiTeak is our newest subsidiary,” Forehand said.

Mo turned to Leetha, who’d been making notes on her iPad. “How’s the back of the house looking to you?”

“We’re good to go,” Leetha said. “We’ll just make sure we keep tight shots on the area around the kitchen door and back porch. The painters cleared out of there half an hour ago.”