“Icebreaker?”
They both got a laugh out of that. “It was never gonna work out for us,” Hattie said. “But you two? I can totally see you together.”
“You really don’t mind?”
Hattie’s cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID.
“It’s Carolyn Meyers,” she said. “Fingers crossed she’s got good news.”
* * *
“Hattie!” the realtor exclaimed. “We’ve got an offer on your house.”
“Thank you, baby Jesus,” Hattie said. “I’m at the office with Cass and Zen. I’ll put you on speakerphone so they can hear.”
“Hi, ladies,” Carolyn said. “We have an all-cash offer on Chatham Avenue. Which means no appraisal, no mortgage approval, and a quick close.”
“What’s the offer?” Hattie asked.
“Eight seventy-five,” Carolyn said. “I know it’s less than we hoped for, but they can close immediately, with no stipulations.”
“Do they know the, uh, history of the house?”
“They know, and they don’t care,” Carolyn said, chuckling. “They live in Michigan now, but the husband grew up here. He’s Holland Creedmore’s first cousin.”
“Ahhh. The despised Yankee cousins,” Hattie said.
“Exactly. He’d given up trying to deal long-distance with Mavis and Holland Senior. And he was fit to be tied when he found out the city condemned the property and sold it to you. He’s been following your progress on social media. He called me after he saw the listing photos.”
“That’s incredible,” Cass said.
“I just got off a long phone call with him,” Carolyn said. “He and his wife are ecstatic about having the house back in the family. They love how you brought the place back to life, and what they love most is the prospect of never having to deal with their Savannah cousins again. So, what do you say?”
Hattie had been taking notes during the conversation, underlining the sale price and adding exclamation marks.
“The answer is yes. Absolutely. I accept.”
“Great. I’ll write up the contract and email it as soon as we get off the phone. Sign it, and shoot it back to me. What’s a good closing date for you?”
“How’s tomorrow?”
Carolyn laughed. “That’s maybe a little premature. I know they’re planning on flying down this weekend. Let’s see if we can do the walk-through and closing next Friday.”
“That works for me,” Hattie said.
* * *
Hattie disconnected the call and grabbed Cass’s hands. “Sold, sold, sold!” Hattie sang out, as they did a clumsy ring-around-the-rosy waltz around the office. “We sold the house! We sold the house!” They danced over to Zenobia and coaxed her into joining them. “Sold! Sold! Sold!”
“All right, y’all, that’s enough foolishness for me,” Zen said finally, extricating herself from the other two women. “I got work to do.”
“Promise you’ll call me first thing tomorrow,” Hattie whispered to Cass. “I wanna hear all about your date with Jimmy.”
* * *
“Looks like it’s just you and me again, Ribsy,” Hattie said. She fed him a bite of steak from the burrito she’d picked up at her favorite Mexican restaurant on Victory Drive, and tried not to feel sorry for herself.
“Better to be alone than with the wrong guy, right?” she asked the dog, who wagged his tail in response.
She ran her hand over the granite countertop, which she’d bribed two of her painters into hauling into the house and installing earlier that afternoon. It was white with pale gray flecks and gleamed in the harsh light of the naked lightbulb overhead.
“Should have kept those brass lanterns for my own kitchen,” she groused. “But hey, now I’ve got an excuse to hunt down some more.” She picked up a tile from the box on the counter and finished the row she’d laid out. “Time for mortar mix, right, sport?”
Instead of answering, Ribsy’s ears pricked up and he dashed through the house toward the front door, barking as he ran.
* * *
As soon as she opened the door Ribsy launched himself into the visitor’s arms. Mo laughed and dropped to the floor of the porch as the dog wriggled and wagged and licked his face with a series of ecstatic yips.
Mo looked up at Hattie. “At least somebody’s glad to see me.”
She was momentarily speechless. “Mo? What are you doing here?”