The Homewreckers(113)

“That must hurt. I have a terror of being burned. Which is why I haven’t used my grill in years.”

“It looks worse than it feels,” Davis said. “How’s it going over at your place? I’ve been riding my bike past there, but you can’t see much from the street. Especially with that cop posted at the driveway.”

“The network’s deadline is looming, and I’m starting to panic,” Hattie admitted.

“I’m sure you’ll make it, and the house will be great,” Davis said. “Are you going to live there yourself, or will you sell it?”

“I can’t afford to keep it,” Hattie said. “I’ve got to get my money out of it so I can repay my loans. And get my engagement ring out of hock.”

Davis’s sweaty face flushed. “No hurry on my account.”

“Elise came to see me at my office today,” Hattie said. “She made some pretty nasty accusations.”

He wiped his brow with the back of his arm again and grimaced. “Sorry about that. For some reason, she’s got a real bee in her bonnet about you. Her asshole lawyer got the judge to let her examine the books for the jewelry store, and I guess you know the rest.”

“She told me the jewelry store is in trouble,” Hattie said.

“Jesus! It will be if she keeps going around town spouting that kind of bullshit,” he exclaimed. “We hit a bumpy patch, that’s all. My accountant gave me some bad advice, and I sold the building to an investor, who sold it to a developer and now he’s tripling my rent. I just have to move some money around, that’s all. Believe me, Heritage Jewelers is not about to go broke.”

“Glad to hear it,” Hattie said. The conversation felt weird and awkward. Davis was studying her face, just as she was studying his. Who was he, really? Had he guessed what else his ex-wife had confided in her?

“Gotta go,” she said, swatting at a mosquito that had been buzzing around her face. She started to walk away, but Davis reached out and caught her by the elbow.

“Hattie? Is something wrong?”

“No,” she lied.

His fingertips tightened on her arm. “You sure? We go way back, Hattie. You know me. You’re not gonna believe any of that shit Elise is slinging about me, right?”

“Right.” She felt a droplet of sweat running down her back, and then another. Stay calm, she told herself. Be cool.

“Good.” He released his hold. “Call me, okay? I really want to see what you’ve done with the house. Who knows? Maybe I’ll buy it myself.”

“I’ll do that,” she said, hoping the slight tremor in her voice didn’t betray how spooked she felt. She had to force herself to walk, not run, back along the seawall.





60

Ladies’ Night




By the time she got back to the job site, the crews had dispersed for the day. Hattie climbed into her truck, closed her eyes, and exhaled. Her mouth was dry and her pulse was racing after her encounter with Davis Hoffman. Had there been something faintly threatening about the way he grasped her elbow, some lurking malevolence that she’d been blinded to over the years of their friendship?

“Hey.” She jumped at the sound of Cass’s voice, and actually clutched at her chest.

Her best friend leaned against the side of the truck. “Something wrong?”

It was the second time she’d been asked that question in just a few minutes. “I’m not sure,” Hattie said.

“Well, you look like you just saw a ghost. Where’d you run off to after we finished shooting? Trae was looking all over for you.”

Hattie hesitated. “What are you doing tonight?”

“I’m gonna go home and chill.”

“You wouldn’t want to come over to my place and chill, would you?” Hattie asked.

“Really? You don’t have plans with your new squeeze?”

“Don’t call him that,” Hattie said, her voice sharper than she intended. “Sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m just tired. And on edge. And to tell you the truth, I’m spooked.”

“You?”

“Yeah. So what do you want to order in? Thai? Mexican? Burgers?”

“Let’s do healthy,” Cass said. “I’ll pick up something at Whole Foods and meet you at your place.”

“Healthy? Who are you?”

“I’ll explain when I get there,” Cass said.



* * *



By the time Cass arrived, Hattie had showered and changed into a pair of frayed gym shorts and one of Hank’s ratty old T-shirts.

Cass unpacked cardboard cartons of kale salad, fruit salad, and grilled chicken as Hattie set out plates and silverware on the kitchen table.

“I brought a bottle of wine,” Cass said, but Hattie waved her off.

“I’m on the wagon. At least for a couple of days.”

“Intriguing.”

The two women ate in companionable silence with Ribsy crouched beneath the table waiting for handouts.

“I’ve missed this,” Hattie said, spearing a chunk of pineapple with her fork.

“Me too,” Cass said. “But you’ve been kind of busy these past few weeks, so I’m not complaining.”