She didn’t mention the thing that had been nagging at her all morning; the fact that Trae had abruptly left and driven back to town apparently without troubling himself about how she would get home in her impaired state.
“Let’s continue this conversation over dinner tonight,” Trae said, squeezing her hand. “I promise, we’ll skip the champagne this time.”
“Hattie!” It was Tug. She opened the door and stepped into the living room.
“Hey, Dad,” she said. “When did you get here?”
“Hi, Mr. Kavanaugh,” Trae said.
“Trae.” Tug gave the designer a cursory nod.
“I just now got here. I need to show you something out in the kitchen.”
“Leetha wants me in makeup because we’re shooting upstairs,” Trae said. “I’ll talk to you later. Let me know about tonight, okay?”
* * *
Pete Savapoulis, their finish carpenter and Sheetrock installer, was standing beside her prized antique haberdashery counter that had been converted to an island for the kitchen. A stepladder stood on the marble-topped counter, and Pete’s expression was a mixture of embarrassment and chagrin.
“Hi, Pete. What’s up?”
“Tell her,” Tug said, pointing toward the ceiling.
“Tell me what?” Hattie asked.
“Uh, well, Trae wanted me to get the ceiling in here Sheetrocked right away this morning, because he said Cass is going to call for an inspection, and the thing is, I found something that’s not so good.”
“Like what?”
“Like I was telling Tug, those old ship’s lanterns up there, the way they’re wired, they’d never pass inspection.”
“Why not?” Hattie asked.
“Climb up that ladder there and take a look for yourself,” Tug said, his jaw tensed.
He gave her a boost onto the counter and she climbed to the top of the stepladder, peering up at the ceiling.
“What am I supposed to be looking at?” she asked.
“Look at how those lanterns are wired,” Tug said. “You see what’s missing?”
Hattie craned her neck and immediately saw the problem.
“There’s no junction box here,” Hattie called down. “That’s not right.”
“No shit,” Tug said. “Look closer. Can you see the scorch marks where those wires have sparked?”
“Oh God,” Hattie said. “This thing is totally jury-rigged. It’s a fire hazard.”
“You bet your ass it is,” Tug said. “Climb on down here. We need to talk.”
Hattie leaned against the island, surveying the work that had been accomplished in the kitchen. The painters had worked miracles here, repainting the smoke-damaged cabinets and installing the new ones. Cabinet doors were stacked against the walls, ready to be installed.
“Pete, tell Hattie what you told me,” Tug directed.
“Well, uh, when I was in here earlier, taking measurements to start hanging the Sheetrock, I noticed how those lantern things were wired up there. I mean, I’m no electrician, but I been around construction a long time, and I knew that wasn’t right. Especially when I saw those scorch marks,” the carpenter said. “I told Erik, one of the electrical helpers, about it, and he said Trae told him to wire those lanterns that way. He said there was no time to go back to town to get more junction boxes, because we need to get the ceiling dried in before inspection.”
Hattie felt sick, even sicker than she had when she’d awoken on the sofa that morning.
“Thanks, Pete,” Tug said. “We’ll put off the Sheetrock in here until after Erik comes back and wires those lanterns properly. I sent him into town to pick up some junction boxes.”
“Okay,” Pete said. “I think Cass wants me in one of those upstairs bedrooms then.”
When he’d gone, Tug crossed his arms over his chest. He was dressed in his favorite worn denim overalls, with pencil stubs sticking out of the bib pockets. “This ain’t right, Hattie.”
She sighed. “I know. I’ll speak to Trae about it. He’s just in a rush, because the fire put us so far behind. Is that why you came out here this morning?”
“Yeah. Cass called me as soon as Pete pointed out those fixtures to her. She said maybe you wouldn’t listen to her, because you and Trae are kinda, what do they call it? Hooking up?”
Hattie’s cheeks burnt with the shame of being called out by her father-in-law. She’d known him since her teen years, and his approval then, and now, meant more than she could explain to herself. She was a grown-ass woman, for God’s sake, but feeling the sting of the old man’s ire still made her want to crawl in a hole and hide.