Chapter 39
Present Day
A little more than a week after Theo and I walked the grounds of the Daniel House, the Exquisite Interiors crew takes over
the property to begin shooting. We spend most of the morning getting folks oriented, and eventually a small tent is erected
for the cameras and sound equipment and the crew and support staff. I’d known it would be more than Erica and a few others,
but the scale of the production is overwhelming. I can’t imagine how it would work if we didn’t have twelve-foot ceilings.
We film the exterior before the heat of the day sets in, to show the siding repairs and a swatch for the new paint color.
We also introduce the landscaping concepts, and just as Theo promised, he has more than one enthusiastic participant on his
crew.
Fitz and I step inside the cool interior of the house pretending like we’re cucumber-cool Hollywood types. Soon the hair and
makeup crew pounce to fix what melted off our faces in the humid air.
“Erica, I didn’t realize you had so many friends,” Fitz says as a makeup artist dusts his face with an unknown powder. He
turns to me. “Does the color match me ok? Last thing I want is to be looking like a mime with a chalky white complexion.”
“Trust me,” I say, “no one will ever, not once, not even for the briefest second, mistake you for a mime.”
Fitz throws me some side-eye. “You’re saying I run my mouth?”
I shrug with a silent look of wonder.
“If the shoe fits, Fitz,” Erica calls over.
Fitz melts into laughter. “You’ve been hanging around us far too long, honey. We’re ruining you,” he calls back.
Erica approaches, lugging the camera onto her shoulder. “Anything for high-quality hosts,” she says. “Now, let’s focus. I
need y’all to welcome us into the house and point out the details that are original, the work you’ve done, and how that work
happens. Let’s start from the threshold of the front door.” Erica passes us to round up the rest of her support folks before
she calls out, “Action!”
I pull in a breath. “Hey, y’all,” I say into the camera. “I’m Mack Bishop.”
“And you can call me Fitz,” my cohost says.
“And this is Holy City Flip ,” we announce together.
“Cut!” Erica calls. She peers out from behind the camera. “Excellent. Now, let’s start on the details.”
“What if we went up and did it on the second-story porch?” I ask. “It might be a different camera angle, but the shot would
open up into the large bedroom, which is currently being wallpapered.”
“Love it,” Erica says. “It’s not like we’re shooting this in the order it’ll end up.”
She and the crew follow us as we mount the stairs. The runner rug hasn’t been installed yet, but the railing is buffed and
shiny, stripped of the stray paint marks we discovered upon closer inspection.
“Freeze,” Erica calls. “Guys, let’s shoot them going up the stairs. Mack, can you lead on project discussion?”
I throw her a thumbs-up.
“Action,” Erica calls.
I turn to Fitz as we slowly climb the wooden stairs. “How are things looking on the runner?”
“It’s been ordered—that rich-red chintz look that’ll go right from the bottom to the top landing where we’ll transition back
to hardwoods.”
“Do you think that’s the best bet? Leaving the upstairs hallway as hardwoods?”
Fitz pauses and leans on the railing elegantly. “Ya know, I wouldn’t mind continuing the runner through the hallway. With
the angle there, it’d work well.”
“Not to mention protect these original floors a bit from wear and tear,” I say, turning to finish our ascent.
“I love it,” Fitz says, stepping on the landing behind me.
“Cut,” Erica calls.
The crew shuffles upstairs behind her and we make our way down the newly taupe hallway to the primary bedroom. I take the
heavy brass knob and turn it, and as the door swings open, it bumps into a ladder.
“Oops. Anyone up there on that ladder?” I ask through the crack.
Katie, our wallpaper expert and installer for the day, squeezes her red-cheeked face in the gap. “Hey, Boss, yeah, we’ve got
a guy up there. Do y’all need in? Because there’s buckets of glue and a cutting table and rolls everywhere.”
“Ah, I see. No, we’ll change plans. I don’t want shooting to delay your work—or worse, create issues.”
Katie nods and clicks the door shut.
“Why don’t we take a short break?” Erica says. “We’ve got a ton of tape from the day already, so you’ve earned it by all standards.”
“Working hard or hardly working, as my daddy used to say,” Fitz says as we make our way down the wide staircase, through the
entry hall, and out onto the porch.
Fitz and I drop into two rocking chairs along the front-facing side. I close my eyes and let the hot air run over me. Any
sweat will be dabbed right up by hair and makeup before the camera clicks on.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Fitz says, “but it seems your dastardly mother is here.”
I pop open my eyes and shoot upright to see for myself.
Magnolia and I discussed this in detail. More than once. She wanted to come for the pilot shoot to manage things and to make
sure I mentioned the board enough times and likely to take credit for the whole operation. And she’s even more likely to offer
her assistance as a host now that she’s decided it might actually lend her some cachet in her circles.
I scan the yard and my gaze lands on her, marching up the newly smooth brick path like she runs the show. I leap up and meet
her halfway.
“Mother, what are you doing here?” I say in an angry whisper. “We agreed . I would give you updates on what was happening with the show, and you would let me handle it.”
She sighs. “Yes, but I wasn’t willing to miss it.”
“There will be more than one shoot,” I say.
She lifts her sunglasses. “So why does it matter if I’m here? This is my project to oversee for the board.”
“You can stay on one condition: You don’t say a word to the crew, and you stay out of the way,” I say, glancing left and right
to make sure no one important from the network is watching this mortifying exchange.
“Fine.” Magnolia steps past me and up the porch. “Oh, Dee and Ned are stopping by too.” And then she continues on into the house.
I turn at the sound of a celebratory scream at the gate, and there, as promised, are Delta and Ned Suffolk. I smile and wave.
On the inside, I’m fuming; if we wanted a live audience, we would’ve sent out the invitations ourselves. Delta and Ned arrive
in front of me, and Delta pulls me into a hug.
“We’re just so proud of you, honey,” she says. “And I promise we’ll stay well out of the way—even if we have to camp out behind
the bushes.”
Her I believe, at least, when she makes this commitment.
Ned pulls me into a hug. “You’ve earned it,” he says. “We can’t wait to watch y’all on TV. You know Delta adores anything
home-and-garden-related.”
“Thank you, guys,” I say. “We don’t have anything guaranteed but a pilot, so maybe it’s a good thing you’re here to soak it
all in.”
“Oh, and why on earth haven’t they signed the full season yet?” Delta’s face crumples into worry.
“It’s the process.” I put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Pilots have to test well, and then they green-light a season
of a show. Of course, it’s what we hope for, but it’s not a promise.”
Delta lets out a breath. “Well then, it sounds like it’ll just be a matter of time.”
Ned takes Delta’s arm. “Let’s let Mack get back to it, huh? Or there won’t be a show to put on the screen.”
“Oh, quite right,” she says and turns to follow her husband. The pair disappear around the grounds to where the crew has set
up their tent out back.
Fitz appears at my side. “Do you need an emotional support mocha latte? I’m ordering myself something for delivery.”
“You’re a saint,” I say. “ Please , and a brownie too.”
Fitz giggles. “You know I’m far too fun for sainthood.” He clicks around his phone. “And, scale of one to ten, how worried are we about your mother today? And why are Grady’s folks here? Didn’t they get the memo that Lincoln’s back?”
“ Hush ,” I tell him. “Are you trying to start drama by mentioning him?”
“I guess an all-out family brawl is the wrong type of reality television in this case,” Fitz says.
“And as for your first question—you know full well Magnolia never dips below a level eight for potential destruction, even
on the best of days.”
Fitz and I make our way back up to the porch. We’ve just dropped back into the chairs for a moment of peaceful rocking when
Erica pops her head out.
“Sorry,” she says. “I know we’re on break, but we’ve got a situation in here.”
I’m already on my feet. “Let me guess. My mother?”
Erica nods sheepishly. “She’s asking to be in a scene.”
I groan. “Over my dead body.”
Fitz and I follow Erica into the house. I push away my anger, stuffing it down into the place inside me where it knows to
live. I push away the frustration that grates on me. Because the last thing I want is a loud argument in front of this crew.
I need to be professional, which means I need to treat my mother like the escaped zoo creature she’s committed to behaving
like.
I approach her slowly with a smile and promises to come back to her. Promises to work her in. Promises that her turn will
come.
Promises I have no intention of keeping.