The Homewreckers(21)

“Time is a luxury we don’t have,” Rebecca said sternly. She pointed out the living room window of the town house, toward Charlton Street, with its row of elegant town houses. “This town is absolutely crawling with old houses. I saw tons of possibilities just from the window of my cab this morning. Surely there must be at least one old house you can scoop up for a song.”

“You might have seen a lot of old houses, but what you didn’t see were for-sale signs,” Hattie retorted. “No offense, but I do this for a living. Finding the right property at the right price—it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. And I’m not the only one looking. As soon as something does come on the market, invariably there are half a dozen offers from other investors—all cash, and over asking price within hours, if not minutes.”

Rebecca’s smile was patronizing. “I do this for a living too. Let me give you a tip. Savannah has a film and television commission, or something. Call those folks and let them know you’ve signed to do a network show that will potentially bring millions of dollars’ worth of jobs and prestige to Savannah. I’m sure they’ll bend over backwards to help you find the right property.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hattie said. “But what happens if I can’t magically conjure up a house by—when did you say was the deadline?”

“The deadline is now,” Rebecca said. “Or no later than the end of this week. And, to be blunt, if we don’t have a house to flip, we don’t have a show. Which would be so unfortunate, because, Hattie, we really, really like you. We like the look of Savannah, the idea for The Homewreckers.…”

Hattie blinked. “Homewreckers? I thought the show was called Saving Savannah.”

“Change of plans,” Rebecca said. “Mo can explain.” She slid two more pieces of paper across the table to Hattie. “But in the meantime, here are the last two documents you’ll need to sign.” She tapped a neon pink arrow on one page and a neon green one on the next document. “Here, and here.”

Hattie picked up the first page and read silently until she came to what seemed like the most important sentence in a page full of eye-glazing legalese.

She read the paragraph out loud. “The network shall have the unilateral right to terminate this agreement or take punitive action against the individual named herein in the event that such other party engages in reprehensible behavior or conduct that may negatively impact his or her public image and, by association, the public image of the contracting company.” She looked over at the network executive. “Reprehensible behavior? Like, me promising not to get arrested? Or knocked up?”

“It’s a morals clause,” Rebecca said, waving aside her concerns. “Standard boilerplate to protect the network from potential embarrassment. It simply says you are who and what you represent yourself to be. Nobody likes a skeleton-in-the-closet-type surprise.”

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 Harriet Laing 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 on Homewreckers. You’re going to be amazing!”





10

With 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.”