“Most of my life, I guess. I started working for Tug when I was in high school, cleaning up around job sites. Eventually, I started bugging the guys to show me how to do stuff. And that’s how I learned all the trades. I can do framing, finish carpentry, electrical, and basic plumbing, in a pinch.”
“Did you tell me you went to college and majored in construction management?”
“I took classes for a year or so, but it was expensive. I figured I could learn more on the job than I could sitting in a classroom. Later on, I took the exam for my professional contractor’s license. I passed on the first try.” Hattie beamed at the memory.
Mo nodded his approval. “What’s your favorite part of what you do?”
“Honestly, what I love best about my job is walking through an old house. Touching it, wondering about its past, listening to it, then figuring out how to bring it back to life again for a new family.”
Mo nodded and gave her a thumbs-up. “What’s it feel like, when you’ve finished restoring an old house?”
Her face lit up with enthusiasm. “It’s just the best. Sometimes we work months and months on a house, slogging through the nasty stuff, replacing old pipes, ripping out knotty pine paneling from the sixties and gross bathrooms, and it feels like you’ll never get it all done. Then, one day, the plaster’s patched and painted, and we switch on a crystal chandelier I found in a junk shop, and bam! It feels like I’ve won the lottery. And I forget about all the sweat and tears and rat poop. Maybe it’s like childbirth? Like, once you see the baby you fall in love and you don’t even care about what it took to bring that kid into the world.”
Mo flashed two thumbs up. “More,” he mouthed.
“What else can I say?” Hattie asked. “I’m not all that interesting.”
He rolled his eyes. “What do you do when you’re not working? Hobbies? Interests?”
She laughed. “I’m always working. When I’m not on the job, I’m thinking about the job. Lately, I’ve been on the hunt for another old house to rehab. I drive all over town. I check the monthly foreclosure notices, talk to real estate agents about what listings they might have coming on the market. And then, for the houses themselves, I’m always on the lookout for salvaged building materials. I’ve even been known to dumpster dive if I spot a good-looking old mantel sticking out of a trash pile.”
“Where do you keep all that stuff?”
“I’ve got a shed out back.”
“No hobbies at all?” Mo looked doubtful.
“I hang out with friends. I read a lot.” She gestured at the bookshelves. “I like those old paperback mysteries.”
“So, you’re really into murder?” Mo asked.
“Not the gory stuff. I’m interested in why seemingly decent people cross the line.”
“What else do you like to do?”
Hattie had to think about that. “I take Ribsy for walks. And he rides shotgun when I’m out scouting for a house to save.”
“Ribsy?”
“My dog.” She whistled, and after some scratching at a door at the end of the hallway, the dog, a furry brown-and-white blur, came hurtling into the living room, nearly knocking over the tripod with Mo’s phone on it. He lunged at Hattie, who laughed and wrapped her arms around him, while he proceeded to slobber all over her face.
“This is my main man.”
“We talked about this a little bit, before the interview started, but tell me why you’re interested in doing this show,” Mo said. “Saving Savannah.”
She scrunched up her face while she thought about it, choosing her words slowly.
“Every day, I drive past old houses in this town that are just sitting there, slowly deteriorating. Once a house is empty or abandoned, nobody is there maintaining it. The roof goes bad, you get water damage, rot, termites. Squatters move in. They set fires in the winter to keep warm, strip off anything they can sell to get money for booze or drugs. At some point, it becomes too late to save a house. And that makes me sad. It’s such a waste.” She placed the palm of her hand on her chest. “It hurts my heart to see that. It’s our history, you know? The history of our community.”
“And?” he prompted.
“Maybe, with a show like this, I can inspire people to do what I do. Take a look at their community, find a house that needs some love, and fix it up. Or just appreciate the house they live in. I’d like to do a show where I could show people the proper way to prep and paint woodwork. Or to tile a bathroom, or re-glaze an old window. And maybe I’d talk about the wrong way to do stuff. I’d want to be—approachable? Is that the word for it?”