***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected copy proof***
Copyright © 2018 Kate Carlisle
Chapter 1
Two months earlier
“Shannon!”
I turned and saw my friend Jane Hennessey waving at me from halfway down Main Street. She ran to catch up with me, despite the fact that she was wearing a lovely dress and high heels. I guess when you owned the Hennessey House Inn, the most elegant world-class inn in Lighthouse Cove, you had to dress the part.
“Hi, Jane.” I set my toolbox down on the sidewalk and gave her a quick hug. “You look so nice. Where are you headed?”
“I’m swinging by Lizzie’s shop to pick up Mac’s latest thriller and then we’re going to have lunch at Emily’s. You should come with us.”
“What a coincidence,” I said, gazing up at the clear blue sky. It was early fall and the weather was warm and sunny with a slight breeze. Perfect for walking along the town square. “I was just on my way to Emily’s to fix a stopped-up sink. I’ll walk with you.” I surreptitiously brushed my hand over my mop of curly hair, hoping to swipe away as much sawdust as I could. “But I should probably pass on lunch. I’ve been working at the old Parton mansion all morning, redoing the staircase. I’m covered in wood shavings.”
“We’re used to seeing you like that,” she said with a grin. “Emily won’t mind. We’ll just hose you down before we go inside.”
“That’s so sweet.” Our friend Emily Rose owned the popular Scottish Rose Tea Shoppe on Main Street, facing the town square. She made the absolute best sandwiches and tiny delectable pastries. My mouth began to water just thinking about them. And that settled it. “I’d love to join you if you’re sure I’m not interrupting anything.”
She laughed. “Since our whole point in having lunch is to talk about Chloe’s visit, you won’t be interrupting anything and you should definitely be there.”
I cocked my head in confusion. “You and Lizzie are talking about my sister?”
“Yes, Shannon,” Jane said with infinite patience. “You know she’ll be here in two short months, right?”
“Of course, but . . .”
“And you know she asked me to help book the hotel rooms for the crew and the production staff, right?”
“No.” I picked up my toolbox. Jane slipped her arm through mine and we strolled toward Lizzie’s bookshop a half block away. “I hadn’t heard that.”
“Well, she did and I’m thrilled to do it. But it’s going to take some jockeying and planning, as you might imagine.”
“I believe it.” Chloe was the co-star of Makeover Madness, a popular rehab and design show on the Home Builders Network. I was thrilled with her success and overjoyed that the show was coming to Lighthouse Cove to feature some of our beautiful old Victorian mansions. And I was pleased to hear that my best friends were jumping in to help make the visit a success.
“But what’s Lizzie doing?” I asked. “Is she helping you make reservations?”
“Oh no. I can do that on my own. But Chloe was hoping that Lizzie will stock her new book and maybe host a book signing while she’s in town. So a few of us decided to get together to work out all the schedules and logistics.”
“My sister, the superstar,” I murmured. I still couldn’t believe that Chloe had recently published her very own book on home rehab, design, and décor. She had sent me an advance copy and it was gorgeous. Her accomplishments had far exceeded everyone’s expectations—including her own—and I couldn’t be happier or prouder of her.
Jane squeezed my arm. “She really is a star. And besides, she’s our hometown girl. We’re all excited to see her again.”
“Me, too.” I meant it. Especially since my little sister rarely came home anymore, except for the occasional holiday. And even then, she would sneak into town for a day or two and be gone before we’d even had a chance to catch up on old times.
Chloe had left town ten years ago, the summer after she graduated from high school. It had been her dream to make it big in Hollywood, and she’d been determined to do whatever it took to make that happen.
She had started out as a lowly office go-fer and in her spare time she worked for a local theater company building sets. And after a few years . . . it happened. She was discovered in that theater, not as an actress but as a carpenter. A producer hired her for a bit part on a DIY Network show and from there she went on to hit the big time as co-host of Makeover Madness. With her innovative ideas and her talent as a contractor, she helped turn that show into the highest-rated program on the network. It didn’t hurt that she was smart and talented and beautiful, but viewers loved her most of all because she had the best sense of humor and absolutely loved her job.
And now, besides being a TV star, Chloe would soon be a bestselling author. Did I mention how ridiculously proud of her I was? Who would’ve thought that hanging out on construction sites with our dad all those years ago would turn out to be so profitable for both of us?
I’m Shannon Hammer, a building contractor specializing in Victorian home renovation. My hometown is listed on the National Trust for Historic Preservation because of its hundreds of Victorian-era houses and buildings, so it made sense that Chloe would eventually bring her television show back home to Lighthouse Cove. She and her producers planned to shoot a series of episodes featuring major rehab jobs on Victorian homes. And the best news of all was that Chloe wanted me to work on the houses with her. Me! I was beyond excited.
But that didn’t mean I was totally on board with Chloe allowing Jane to do all this heavy lifting for her staff and crew. Had my sister gone so completely Hollywood that she didn’t think about the “little” people anymore? That didn’t sound like Chloe at all. I wondered if maybe she was just overly stressed and pressed for time.
“I guess I’m still confused,” I said to Jane. “Chloe’s producers usually arrange all the travel details. Why did she ask you to do it?”
Jane smiled. “She didn’t really ask. She just called to get some information on hotels and the next thing I knew, I was on the phone with her executive producer, Bree Bennett, who wanted to hear all about Hennessey House. How many rooms we have, our rates, what meals and amenities are included, you know. We worked out a few specifics and I told her I’d take care of everything else.”
I frowned. “Everything else?”
“Her staff and crew are going to need a lot more rooms than I have available, so I offered to take care of booking the Inn on Main Street for them.”
I nodded slowly. “That makes sense. You’re kind of an expert in that regard.”
“I am,” she said with a confident smile. Jane had been the manager of the inn for five years before she opened her Hennessey House, a massive Victorian mansion left to her by her grandmother. “And then Bree called back for more info and I happened to mention that Emily’s catering company could provide pastries and coffee every day. And then Chloe called to ask about the book signing, so that got Lizzie involved. And then Emily reminded me that Gus has a limousine service if anyone on the show wanted to use it. And, well, here we are.”
Jane and I had gone to school with gorgeous Gus Peratti, the best auto mechanic in town and the guy who had won Emily’s heart.
I smiled, feeling better knowing that Chloe wasn’t running our friends crazy. Not personally, anyway. And besides, nobody here seemed to mind. At least, not so far. I would have to make sure that once the production people arrived, they didn’t steamroll Jane, Lizzie, Emily, and everyone else in town. “So you managed to get the whole gang involved. I’m officially impressed.”
“And we’re all going to get credit on the show. Isn’t it wonderful?”
“That’s very cool,” I said. “I just hope you’re not too busy to handle all this extra work. If it starts to feel like Chloe’s imposing on you . . .”
“She’s not.” Jane laughed. “It just feels that way to you because she’s your sister. I, on the other hand, am totally psyched. It’s sort of like I’m working in showbiz, you know?”
I chuckled. “Showbiz-adjacent, anyway.”
“Close enough,” she said breezily. “Besides, Chloe is so sweet.”
Sweet? Chloe? I loved my sister, but that was not a word I would normally apply to her. Smart, savvy, a little snarky, sure. But sweet? I wondered just how thickly she’d laid on the sweetness. On the other hand, my friends weren’t exactly naïve. Especially Jane, who had known Chloe her whole life. If she and the others didn’t want to do the work, they wouldn’t have volunteered. Still . . .
I glanced up at Jane, who was two inches taller than me—and had been since first grade when we were the two tallest kids in class, a fact that had bonded us for life. “If you feel like you’re about to freak out from all the demands, just call Chloe and tell her to get the producers to take over. They’re used to doing this kind of stuff. And I can help, too. With . . . whatever.”
“No way would I dump my work on you,” she said adamantly. “First of all, you’ve got your own arrangements to take care of, right?”
True, I thought. I was supposed to scout out three or four run-down Victorian houses ripe for rehab. The producers would come to town in the next week or so and choose a few of them to be featured on the show. Chloe also wanted me to line up four or five other smaller interior jobs that the two of us would tackle for the show’s website. And in the meantime, I had a bunch of ongoing jobs that would start to get backed up as I spent more time working on the TV show projects.
“And second,” Jane continued, “I’ve got a ton of people offering to help me. This is going to go off without a hitch.”
Famous last words, I thought. “We’d better knock on wood.”
“Very funny,” she said, lightly elbowing me in the side.
“Yeah, I’m just kidding. It’s going to be great.” But as we passed one of the many sycamore trees that grew along Main Street, I reached out and knocked on the thick brown wood trunk. Because why tempt fate?
Two weeks later
I met with Wade Chambers, my head foreman, at the site of one of the first houses on my Chloe list. I was already waiting by the tailgate when he climbed out of his truck and together we pulled the extension ladder out of the back.
“They picked the Bloom house for the show?” he asked.
“It’s one of the four they’re going to decide on,” I said as we lugged the ladder up the walkway. “I really hope they choose it because it’s got great bones. The final result would be beautiful.”
“You’re right,” he said, gazing up at the three-story tower. “It’s got all the Victorian elements and it would be perfect for the show. As long as it doesn’t crumble and fall down between now and the time Chloe gets here.”
“It could happen.” In its heyday, this Queen Anne Victorian had surely been one of the more stately jewels of Lighthouse Cove. With its traditionally asymmetrical roofline, multiple gables, rounded front tower, and wraparound veranda, not to mention the overabundance of gingerbread trim, the home was a true classic. But it had been deserted for at least twenty years and, like Wade said, I wouldn’t be surprised to see the place collapse at any moment.
“I ran into Margaret Bloom at the market,” I said. “She begged me to put in a good word. She told me she’s spending every day in church, lighting candles and praying that the house gets chosen for Makeover Madness.”
Wade chuckled. “I’m not sure it works that way.”
Margaret still owned the house that had been in her family for six generations, but when she got married, she moved into her husband’s home, a beautiful Eastlake-style Victorian over on Ivy Hill north of the town square. She had kept her maiden name of Bloom just as her three sisters had done since the Blooms had long been one of the most prominent families in Lighthouse Cove.
“She told me they can’t spare the money to refurbish both of their houses and according to the terms of her father’s will, she can’t sell this one. She’ll have to pass it on to her kids eventually, but meanwhile, it’s falling apart. She’d be thrilled if Chloe and the producers choose it. That way, she can get the work done for free.”
“It definitely needs help,” Wade said, glancing at the veranda. “It’s kind of a disaster and that’s a damn shame.”
“Disasters are exactly what Chloe asked me to find for the show,” I said with a grin. “She told me to come up with some real stinkers.”
He chuckled. “Then she’ll be very happy with this place. So what are we doing here?”
“I’ll show you.” I lifted the front of the ladder up. “Let’s go around to the side.”
Wade grabbed the far end and we carried the heavy ladder around the side of the house to the point where the wraparound veranda ended. “Let’s set it up right here.”
“I guess I shouldn’t complain that so many of the old houses are falling apart,” Wade reasoned as he helped lean the ladder up against the side of the house. “It keeps us gainfully employed.”
I grinned at him over my shoulder. “You got that right.”
“Okay, I assume you’re the one climbing up there.” He grabbed hold of the railings. “I’ll keep it steady for you.”
“Thanks.” I stared at the ladder, looking all the way to the top. I wasn’t afraid of heights but this thing stretched up thirty-two feet. Even my most macho crew guys were a little daunted by the climb. My throat was suddenly dry. “That’s a long way up.”
“And it still won’t reach the peak of the gable,” Wade said, pointing up at the decorative wood pieces tucked under the peak of the roof. “We’ll have to get the boom lift out here if Chloe wants to restore those gable carvings.”
My construction company owned a two-man boom lift with a basketlike platform and a fifty-two-foot articulated arm, the kind of thing the telephone company used to reach the highest electrical poles. It was an expensive piece of heavy equipment that my father had won in a poker game a few years back from the owner of our local hardware store. True story. Because of Dad’s good fortune, we were happy to rent it out to other contractors when we weren’t using it ourselves.
“For now,” I said, “I just want to get close enough to check out the dentils along the eaves.” Taking a fortifying breath, I slowly climbed thirty-some feet until I could reach out and examine the closest square wooden molding. But as soon as I touched the first one, my fingertips went right through the rotted wood. I tested a few more spots along the eave and found them all as badly damaged.
“I was afraid of this,” I shouted down to Wade. “We’ve got to get these repaired before Chloe shows up.”
“Why?”
“Because the wood is rotten.”
“But that’s part of the deal, isn’t it? It actually looks kind of cool in a disturbing sort of way.”
Was he smoking something? “No, it doesn’t. It looks plain old creepy. Decrepit, faded, and sad.”
“Exactly,” Wade shouted cheerfully. “Chloe will love it. She’ll want to get some close-up shots of the rot first before we get to work making it beautiful.”
I sighed. He had a point. “But I hate to think that people watching the show will believe that the houses in Lighthouse Cove are dilapidated and mangy.”
Wade snorted a laugh. “Why would they think that? Lighthouse Cove is famous for the hundreds of beautiful Victorians we have here.”
“Right, so why would we want to show off all the ugly parts?”
“Because if they see all this rotting wood and peeling paint, they’ll think we’re freaking geniuses when we make it all shiny and pretty again.”
I gazed down at him and nodded reluctantly. “You’re right. Guess I’m just nervous about the whole television thing.” I stared up at the offending dentil and sighed again. “Okay, we’ll leave them for now.”
“Good. Ready to come down?”
“Not yet.” I pointed up at the main gable rising thirty more feet above me. “Look at those gable brackets. I can see the worm holes from here. And the carvings are falling apart. They’ll need to be filled and sanded and then painted.”
“Yup,” Wade agreed. “But after the film crew gets here. Chloe loves stuff like that.”
I frowned because he was right. “How is it that everyone knows my own sister better than I do?”
“I watch her show,” he said with a shrug, clutching the ladder as I studied the weathered wood siding. “It’s really interesting and Chloe’s great. I always learn something new.”
I didn’t respond, just made a point of scratching off a bit of peeling paint.
Wade started to laugh. “Do you even watch your sister’s show?”
“Of course I watch it,” I said, properly outraged. “I mean, usually.” I huffed out a breath. “Okay, fine. I record them so I can watch them anytime I want.”
“Uh-huh. Better watch a few episodes before she gets here.”
“I will,” I groused. I would never admit out loud that watching my sister’s TV show made me feel a bit inadequate. I mean, we were both contractors and basically had the same job, only she did hers on national television. It was weird. Despite being proud of her, I guess I was a little jealous, too, which was just plain silly.
I took another minute to check out some water damage I noticed under the eaves of the veranda, then began the climb down. “I would love the chance to restore this house to its former glory.”
Wade scraped at a patch of peeling paint. “You and me both.”
We retracted the extension ladder and carried it back to Wade’s truck. Once it was secured, he took his tablet out of his backpack. “Do we have a schedule yet of the work we’ll be doing with Chloe while she’s here?”
“I’m expecting the producer to come to town this weekend. I’ll show her each of the houses and she’ll make the decisions on which houses we’ll work on and in what order. And once we’ve nailed down those details, I’ll get together with you and Carla and finalize a schedule for the crew. According to Chloe, they plan on using some of our guys.”
“I hope so. That would be a kick.”
“At the very least, I’ll see if they’ll let our guys work on the smaller projects we’ve got lined up.”
“Do you know what those are?”
“Yeah. Chloe’s been in touch with one of her high school friends to expand a closet. Freddie Baxter wanted to add on a new bathroom and Mac wants to build a deck on the side of his house.”
“Off the kitchen?”
“Yes. The northern exposure will be perfect in the summer. I was going to do the work anyway, but if Chloe wants us to do it for the show, that would be great.”
“Oh, yeah. Right by the ocean, they’ll be able to get lots of great shots of the waves and the beach.”
“And the lighthouse.”
“Awesome,” he said, and climbed into his truck. “Keep me in the loop.”
I grinned. “Always.”
Present day
After arriving home from work tired, drywall-mud-caked, and downright grungy, I jumped into the shower. I hadn’t even dried my hair when my dog, Robbie, began to bark frantically and made a beeline down the stairs and straight for the front door.
“All right, all right,” I said. Throwing on a T-shirt and sweatpants, I followed him down and opened the door in time to see a sleek black limousine come to a stop in the driveway. “Looks like the queen has arrived.”
I walked down the front steps just as my sister stepped regally out from the backseat of the limousine. She wore jeans and a bejeweled denim jacket, and her long blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, making her look like a teenager.
At first glance, the two of us didn’t look related at all. But if you looked beyond our hair color, you’d see that we were obviously sisters. When Chloe turned sixteen she decided to become a blonde and never looked back. I had always been happy with my wavy red hair, despite its occasional similarity to an unruly mop.
I grinned and felt my heart stutter in my chest. It had been too long since she’d been home.
Hurrying down the walkway, I grabbed her in a hug. “Come here, you. Gosh, you look so great! I can’t believe you’re finally here.”
“I can’t, either. We’re going to have so much fun.” She held me at arm’s length. “How do you keep getting more beautiful?” And then she pulled me close again.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, my hair is a wet mess.”
“And yet you still look fabulous. I should hate you.”
I laughed. “We’re definitely related. I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
She smiled. “Aren’t we lucky?”
“And just a little full of it.”
Still laughing, we both turned as Gus Peratti jumped from the driver’s seat. “Hey, Shannon.”
“Hi, Gus. Haven’t seen you in forever.” I gave him a quick smooch on the cheek. “Thanks so much for taking care of Chloe.”
“Not a problem.” He jogged around to the open trunk and began pulling out at least a dozen various suitcases, a hanging wardrobe bag, and several large duffel bags.
“Did you bring enough stuff?” I asked.
She smoothed her hair back. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m very important.”
I chuckled and pulled her close. “God, I’ve missed you.”
Chloe wrapped her arm around my waist and rested her head on my shoulder while Gus loaded up on suitcases and traipsed up the steps and into the house.
“Is everything okay with you?” I asked her.
“Wonderful,” she said a little too emphatically. “I’m just so glad to be here.”
Chloe stared up at the house we had grown up in. Like so many of the homes in town, it was a Queen Anne Victorian with the usual charming affectations. I had painted the entire house white with touches of sky blue trim a few years ago, which was a big change from the previous multiple-color style of dark browns and blues with forest green trim and a splash of beige here and there. I had also replaced the clamshell shingles covering the top half of the house with horizontal wood siding that matched the rest of the exterior. It gave the house a clean, tidy look that I loved.
“It looks so peaceful,” Chloe whispered.
She couldn’t have given me a better compliment. “I hope you like it.”
“I love it.” Her eyes narrowed. “Wait, did you replace the bay windows?”
“I did.” Originally there were three narrow sash windows that I replaced with a gracefully bowed, single piece of glass.
“Wow. That’s a showstopper.” She climbed the ten steps up to the front porch and walked over to study the bay window up close. “The glass itself is curved. How did you do that?”
“It was tricky but I found a glazier in Eureka who rose to the challenge.” Tricky was one way to put it, I thought. Pain in the rear would be more accurate.
“Gorgeous.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.” And it reminded me that Chloe hadn’t been home to visit in over five years. Oh, we talked on the phone or Skyped every other week or so, and Dad and I had traveled south to see her a few times. To this day, I still didn’t know why she didn’t come home more often. Maybe she would finally open up to me on this trip. I could only hope.
Gus came back out, grabbed two more large bags plus two smaller bags, and easily walked back up the front stairs to the door.
“We’d better help,” I said.
“Good idea.”
We jogged down the steps to the car. I grabbed a duffel bag and a couple of the smaller totes. Chloe picked up the last three shopping bags and we followed Gus into the house.
“Where would you like these?” he asked.
“Oh, just leave them here and we’ll take them upstairs eventually.”
“A couple of these bags are really heavy,” Gus said. “Let me take them upstairs for you while you two get reacquainted.”
He was going above and beyond the call of duty, but that was what friends were for. “Thank you, Gus. Chloe’s room is down the hall, the third door on the left.”
“My old room?” Chloe said.
“Do you mind?”
“Absolutely not.” She clapped her hands together. “It’ll really feel like I’m back home. Actually, I’m getting a little emotional just thinking about it.”
I grinned. “That’s only fair since I’ve been freaking out for weeks in anticipation of your arrival.”
“Why?” Chloe looked surprised. “The show is going to be a blast. I’m so excited you’re doing it with me.”
“I’m pretty excited, too. Also scared to death, but I’ll snap out of it.”
She gave a light shrug. “If we screw it up, we’ll just do another take.”
“You make it sound so easy,” I said with a laugh.
“It will be.”
Gus made two more trips upstairs and then took off, but not before Chloe tried to tip him.
He politely refused. “Your company made us a very generous deal while you’re in town, so tips are not necessary.”
“Then how about if we take you and Emily out to dinner later this week?” I said.
“That sounds perfect. Good to meet you, Chloe.” He winked and strolled out the door.
Chloe waved, then sighed. “God, he is a beautiful man.”
“That’s the consensus. And Emily sure thinks so.”
“He told me he went to school with you, but I don’t remember him.”
I laughed. “How could you forget him?”
“I have no idea.” She shook her head and stared at the door where Gus had just departed. “I guess I was a little self-absorbed in high school.”
“Weren’t we all?” I led the way into the kitchen and while feeding Robbie and my pretty orange-striped cat, Tiger, and cleaning their water bowls, I told Chloe the story of Gus and Emily and how the ghost of Mrs. Rawley brought them closer together.
“That is so amazing,” she said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “So the ghost led you to the wall where she’d hidden her diary?”
“Yes. It was pretty bizarre to see paint cans flying through the air and the chandelier swinging all on its own.”
“Oh my God, you’re giving me goose bumps.” She rubbed her arms briskly. “Will you tell that story on the air?”
“You really want me to?”
“I do. That’s exactly the sort of thing that viewers love to hear, especially when it’s connected to an old home like this story is.”
I took a breath to fortify myself. This whole showbiz thing was new to me. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Great.” She pulled out her phone and began to type. “I’m just making myself a note.”
Robbie finished his nibbling and scurried over to the table, where Chloe patted her knees in invitation. The friendly Westie immediately jumped onto her lap and settled in for some petting, scratching, and stroking. Not to be outdone, Tiger curled herself around Chloe’s ankles and made herself at home on top of her shoes.
“I love your little creatures,” Chloe murmured.
“They love you, too. Do you have any pets?”
“No. My old boyfriend was allergic, or at least that’s what he always told me. Now that’s he’s gone, maybe I’ll get a cat.”
“You should. It’s nice to come home to someone who’s absolutely thrilled to see you.”
She laughed. “It probably helps that you’re the one feeding them.”
“That’s the bargain we’ve struck. I feed them and they love me.”
She put her elbow on the table and rested her cheek in her hand. “I could use some unconditional love.”
As if on cue, Robbie turned and licked her chin.
Chloe laughed and gave Robbie’s ear a soft scratch. “Thank you, Robbie. See, that’s what I’m talking about.”
“So, speaking of your old boyfriend . . . what ever happened to Joe? You never really said.”
She gazed at me. “He turned out not to be the dreamboat I described when I first met him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s my own fault.”
“But you lived with him for two years.”
“We had fun for a while. I thought we would get married. I love his parents. I still miss them. But you know, when the guy you’re living with turns around and gets another girl pregnant, it’s usually a sign.”
“Ugh. A really big sign. What an idiot.”
“It’s okay. I’m too busy to have a relationship.”
I sat down across from her, anxious to change the subject to something a little less upsetting. “So, it’s almost five o’clock. Do you want to unpack?”
“Not really. Do you mind if we just chill out for a little while?”
“Do you want to take a nap?”
“God, no. But I would love a glass of wine.”
“We are definitely related.” I opened a bottle of Pinot Noir and poured two glasses, and then we walked back to the living room to relax. Tiger and Robbie followed, naturally, and we all settled down on the big comfy couch.
“So tell me about your life,” I said, after waiting for her to swallow her first sip of wine. “The show is going well, I know. And you always look so smart and beautiful, even when you’ve got paint on your hair.”
She groaned. “You saw that episode, did you?”
“Yes.” I had finally managed to binge-watch three seasons of the show and while I would never admit that little fact, I was prouder than ever that Chloe was my sister. She was truly talented. “That same thing happened to me a few years ago and it took weeks to get the paint out. Now I never paint a ceiling without wearing a hat. Which isn’t easy with this head of hair.”
She waved her hand at me. “That’s another thing you should mention on the show. Any little details or stories or advice. The viewers love it.”
“Speaking of viewers, you know you’ve got a lot fans in town. I hope you’re ready for the adulation.”
She laughed. “It never gets old.”
I scrunched a pillow and leaned back into the cushions. “It feels like forever since I saw you last. So tell me everything. The show is incredibly popular and your book is selling like crazy, that has to feel good.”
“The book.” She shook her head in wonder. “I’m in shock over how well it’s doing.”
“I’m so proud of you.” I smiled at her for a long moment. “Never mind that I’m consumed with jealousy.”
She laughed again as I’d hoped she would, but then she sobered. “I feel bad for not calling more often, but it has been sort of a whirlwind. My head still spins at the thought of all those personal appearances. I just got back to the show last week and now we’re on the road again.”
“Was your crew happy to see you? I hope everyone is treating you well.”
“They are the best. Everyone’s so supportive.”
“Good. I remember when you first started on the show, you said that Blake Bennett was really nice and helpful to you. Is he still? Was he happy about your book?” Blake was Chloe’s co-star and one of the producers of Makeover Madness. He was married to Bree, the executive producer.
“Oh, yeah, Blake has been totally supportive. I asked if he wanted to help with the book and he said, no way.” She chuckled. “He figures I can do all the work and if the book is a hit, it means more people will watch the show.”
“I guess he’s right.” I swirled my wineglass. “Oh, speaking of Blake, I met his wife Bree last month when she was up here scouting for locations. She was, um, nice. A very interesting woman.”
Chloe’s smile tightened. “Seriously? Nice?”
The last thing I’d wanted to do was diss Chloe’s boss, but Chloe obviously knew me too well. “I guess she was a little full of herself.”
“That’s more like it.” She gave Robbie an absent scratch. “Don’t get me wrong, Bree can be nice when she wants to be. Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen very often.”
My gaze narrowed. Okay, I might not see my sister often, but I could still read her expressions and emotions fairly easily. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing really.” Chloe shrugged and reached for her wineglass. “Except that right before I left the studio this morning, she fired me.”
Excerpted from A Wrench in the Works by Kate Carlisle. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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