Chapter Five
Tuesday
“READY?” KELLY SMILED. She was dressed in a purple sateen sheath she’d called urban aubergine, and silver stilettos, as if she were heading to a cocktail party instead of hanging out in a construction zone. Her hair and makeup soared to new heights of overdone, but maybe that kind of thing played best for the cameras. “Is this the most exciting thing we’ve ever done or what? Everybody we know is watching.”
Annie could have done without being reminded. She was tricked out too, so over-the-top she could be an announcer at the Hunger Games. She had barely recognized herself in the mirror when the stylist—one of Kelly’s friends—was done with her. She wore a tight, black strapless bodice, a red ballet skirt and, of course, heels—because nothing said house renovation like broken ankles.
You don’t have to enjoy this. You just have to survive it.
And hopefully not go bald in the process. Her hair had enough product in it to grout the kitchen backsplash. Her outraged eyebrows were plucked within an inch of their lives. And her makeup was exaggerated enough to scare a teenager out of her goth phase. Almost as overdone as Xane’s the last time Annie had seen him in concert.
“Ready,” Annie said carefully so as not to crack the thick layer of lipstick on her lips.
All right, fine. She was a little excited. She glanced around. God, let this work.
David Durenne, the producer, was watching Kelly with rapt interest, but Kelly didn’t notice. Which probably meant he was a nice guy.
The family love curse was pretty widespread. Kelly was expanding her Realtor business because her loser ex had successfully sued her for alimony. Ricky had cheated on her then left her, and now Kelly had to support him financially while he frolicked around with his cliché twenty-year-old hairdresser.
If there was a loser jerk within a hundred miles, one of the Murray women found him. Guaranteed.
The producer held up a finger, his eyes going unfocused as he listened to the bud in his ear.
“Hold on,” he said. “We have a thirty-second delay. Weather update. Tropical Storm Rupert was just upgraded to a hurricane. It’s making landfall in Kingston, Jamaica.” He frowned as he listened. “Might come up the Eastern Seaboard.”
Before Annie could worry too much about it, the man began counting back on his fingers.
“Five, four, three, two, one.”
The cameras began rolling.
“Good morning,” Kelly cooed. “I am Kelly Murray, and this is my cousin, Annie. Two savvy single ladies doing business. We’re going to show you today how to double the value of your real estate property for sale.”
Annie barely flinched at the word single. Totally expected it. She held on to her pleasant, neutral expression as her cousin went on about the importance of picking the right location when thinking about flipping.
“So tell us about how you created a sanctuary for those poor darling animals.” Kelly held her smile for the count of three, then turned it all off.
“They’re cutting in the footage we shot of the llamas earlier.” She grabbed her compact from her back pocket to pat more powder on her face. “People want a personalized story.”
Done with the compact, she stashed it away and pulled out a travel-size can of glitter hairspray. She fluffed Annie’s hair with one hand and sprayed with the other.
While Annie tried to choke as quietly as possible, her cousin flashed a look of approval. “There. You look like a lady. You never know who might watch this thing. Maybe we’ll catch the eye of a hot doctor or a sexy lawyer. You have to look like the kind of wife a professional man would want.”
“Coming back in five, four, three, two, one,” the producer called out as the hairspray disappeared.
Kelly turned on again, flipping the beauty-contestant switch that Annie decidedly didn’t have. They had very different upbringings. Not Kelly’s fault. Resenting her for it would be stupid, and Annie didn’t. Yet she was aware of an emotional gap between them.
“Unfortunately, as you can see, the house is in rough shape,” Kelly said.
The cameras panned around.
Kelly had actually made the mess on purpose. The place looked like a dump. Annie tried not to wince at the thought of the whole town seeing her like a slob, a borderline hoarder.
“Especially the kitchen.” Kelly led the way. “And your dream is one big open space, right?”
No. Annie wanted to leave the walls where they were. But her cousin insisted that the show would work best if the difference between before and after was dramatic.
Since Annie had agreed to let Kelly do what she wanted with the house as long as the end result was a substantial increase in equity, she said, “That would be great.”
“All right, then, guys,” Kelly called to the crew, “let’s knock this wall out of the way!”
Six stud muffins in ripped jeans and tool belts sprang up to obey, swinging giant hammers. They weren’t as big as Cole Makani Hunter, nor as mean-looking. These guys were the smiley, friendly handyman types who played well on TV—ridiculously handsome to the last man, picked for the camera, probably straight from the YMCA where Kelly went for yoga classes.
Not that Annie was going to start comparing every guy she met to Cole. She pushed the SEAL from her mind while her cousin retreated from the room to escape the dust.
The camera filmed the men. Right until they cut to commercial break.
Everybody hurried to the bathroom to take their places for the next segment.
“Five,” the producer said, flashing Kelly a smile, “four, three, two, one.”
Kelly whispered to Annie, “Look like a lady.” Then she said into the camera, “Welcome back. Now here, we are turning this tiny hole of a dark bathroom into a sumptuous spa bath.”
A spa bath being another thing that Annie hadn’t wanted, but Kelly said luxury was the latest rage.
Kelly gave the signal for Rob, the guy who’d been waiting with the jackhammer. The twenty-two-year-old college student from West Chester University had gym muscles on top of his gym muscles.
Annie had talked to him for a few minutes earlier. His goal was to graduate without debt. He’d been on the cover of a couple of romance novels written by a local author before he’d snagged this gig. He knew jackhammers because he worked construction during the summers.
He was nearly as tall as Cole, but not as wide in the shoulders . . .
Not thinking it!
Annie made sure to keep the smile on her face. Kelly was right—they did need to look professional. Annie had patients watching at Hope Hill.
The jackhammer went wild in the tiled shower stall, the noise deafening, debris flying. Then a different kind of noise. And then the shower stall caved. The next second, the outer wall of the bathroom fell away with a crash that shook the floor under them.
The jackhammer stopped.
As the dust slowly settled, Annie could see the backyard and the fence on the far side of the yard. For a moment, she thought she saw a dark figure at the edge of the cornfield that began past her fence. Then the figure disappeared—probably Joey—and Annie refocused on the giant hole in front of her. She’d lost a wall. An entire fricking wall. An outside wall!
That was not supposed to happen.
The words tumbled from her lips before she could call them back. “Fucking spa bath.”
Which, as she later found out, was the last thing she said on live TV.
The camera guy immediately cut the feed, while the producer shouted, “Out. Out. Out. Get out to safety!”
They all ran for the back door, the closest exit. When Kelly stumbled in her high heels, the producer picked her up and carried her.
Annie came to a stop in her backyard, barely hearing the team’s shocked exclamations over the blood pounding in her ears.
Her phone pinged. On reflex, she pulled it from her pocket. Text message from Joey. The eighth one today.
She’d been determined to have a good week, but as she stood there staring at the hole in the wall, her stomach churning, she had to admit defeat.
Her job still hadn’t been made full-time.
Her ex would not give up stalking her.
Her new patient was difficult. An understatement.
And her house stood open to the elements.
With a hurricane coming.
“It’s not that bad, right?” Kelly’s eyes swam in guilt. She was standing on her own feet once again, although the producer hovered nearby. “You can find the positive in anything. Say something.”
Annie tried. She really did. But she ended up shaking her head. There weren’t enough affirmations in the world.