Chapter 28
Early the next week, Fitz and I stand toe-to-toe in the upstairs bathroom at the Daniel House, and thank goodness the camera
crew is here because we’re having it out over our one greatest sticking point.
“Look,” I say. “ Look. ” I drop and crouch below the pedestal sink some dummy installed in the ’90s. “It’s already damaged so much we can barely
patch it.”
“Hardwoods,” Fitz says. “They should stay.”
“They’re a no in a bathroom,” I respond. “I know, I know, historically they should stay, but this room is going to get used. How will it look if two months after the reno, they’re calling us saying
the floor’s messed up?” I hook my thumbs in the loops of my work overalls and rock on the heels of my work boots. The floor
creaks below me almost as if in agreement. “Plus, now while the tub’s out getting refinished is the time.”
Fitz reaches out a hand to lean on the wall but pulls back as he takes in the yellowing of the paint. “I think if your mother
has her way, she and her ladies who lunch will be the only ones powdering their noses in here.” He looks to the cameraperson.
“Fortunately, this building is owned by the entire Carolina Historic Society, and I vote they need tile in a bathroom for it to be used for a gathering of any reasonable size.”
Fitz sighs. “So it’s less museum, more event space?”
I shrug. “There’s no sense in letting it sit and rot. People should enjoy it.”
Fitz turns to the cameraperson. “She doesn’t want that broadcast if she knows what’s good for her.”
“ There we can agree,” I say. “We’re keeping the use of the space unspecified for now.”
Fitz throws me a wink. “For such a tiny room, I guess I’ll give in and let you tile it.”
I throw my hands up. “Victory!”
“And cut!” Erica yells. She sets the camera down gently and stretches. “This comes so easy.”
“It helps to be friends,” I say.
“ Best friends,” Fitz says. “Even if we never got around to the matching necklaces.”
“Do you guys have time to shoot at the studio today too?” Erica raises a brow. “We have some meetings with senior producers
next week, and if I can get some variety in takes, I might be able to convince them to come check you out.”
“Producers?” I ask.
It makes sense that they exist, and of course this would have to go up a flagpole before we’d move on to anything official.
It’s just that the term senior producers makes me think of someone in a boardroom, not someone on a jobsite.
“The ones who make the choices, presumably?” Fitz says, crossing his arms. “Give us an hour to freshen up, and we can shoot
at the studio on King.”
I double-check my phone. “Grady’s dropping Hallie there in an hour.” I frown.
Fitz lights up. “Well, it’s my lucky day. It’s been too long since I’ve hugged the magpie.”
Erica follows the comments back and forth, her hand itching to raise the camera.
“Magpie, not child television star,” I say. I turn to Erica. “I’m sorry, but I’m just not comfortable having my daughter on camera.”
Erica nods. “That’s fair. If she happens into any of the shots, we can cut it so her face doesn’t show.”
It sounds reasonable. And again, I remind myself that this is essentially an extended audition reel and not yet something
that would be televised. For those cuts I’ll also have to remember to keep the comments about my mother under control.
Fitz turns to Erica. “I’ll work on her. I know Hallie would translate to the screen like a star .”
I fling my arm around Fitz and pull him out of the bathroom by the shoulders. “He won’t be working on me, Erica, but we’ll
see you at the studio in a bit. I’ll let Maya know you’re on the way.”
Erica laughs as the pair of us tumble down the steps, bickering about the matter, and out onto the street.
An hour later, I’m approaching our studio dressed in wide-leg dark jeans, a signature white button-down, and large gold jewelry.
I’d never admit it to my mother, but I consider this a modernization of her go-to style. It’s probably unconscious, from all
the grooming she did of me as a child, squeezing me into designer labels one Zone bar at a time, but even I can admit the
woman has an eye for a classic look.
Fitz rounds the corner ahead wearing a delightful linen jacket in flamingo pink, paired with khakis and a blue pinstripe shirt.
He catches sight of me, eyes me up and down, and tosses a chef’s kiss my way. I raise my sunglasses as I near him and dramatically
fan myself. “The heat coming off that jacket.”
Fitz grins. “I was saving it for something special like this.” He squeezes my arm. “We’re so close.”
“Mama!” Hallie’s voice comes from across the street where she waves wide, her other hand held in Grady’s. He looks both ways and they cross over.
Behind Fitz, Erica is drawing near with one of the sound guys. Fitz turns and waves.
Suddenly Hallie’s arms are around my waist. “I missed you,” she says.
“Not to mention I missed you ,” Fitz says.
Hallie leaps over to him and gives him a matching hug.
“Erica, hi!” I call over. “This is my daughter, Hallie.”
Erica sets her camera down and wipes sweat from her brow. “Great to meet you, Hallie! I’ve heard all kinds of good stuff about
you.”
I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I know it’s Grady pecking from behind me. I turn slowly.
“Y’all get a local news segment or something?” he asks.
The sun reflects off his overly gelled hair, and I fight the urge to rub it with my palm and mess it all up.
“Actually, this is Erica. She’s our cameraperson shooting our audition for a slot on Exquisite Interiors TV,” I say. “Nothing
official yet, but we’re having fun with it.”
“You and Fitz are easy to film,” Erica says.
Grady turns pink, then red, and I can imagine the steam building inside his head. Fitz must observe the same because he puts
his hand on Hallie’s shoulder and says, “Erica, can the magpie and I show you around the studio? Get some still shots of the
space, maybe, before Mack and I pick up?”
“Perfect,” Erica says, grabbing her camera and following them inside. She waves the sound guys in behind her.
“What the hell, Mack?” Grady throws out his hands. “When were you going to tell me about this?”
I look at him deadpan. “I have about two minutes, Grady. So you can choose if you’d like to hand off information about Hallie’s stay with you or interrogate me about how I’m running my business.”
“ Your business? I mean, we both built this, and you didn’t think to loop me in on a shot at a network television deal?” Grady steps closer.
“You resigned. You left. I would’ve let you stay had you asked—very much against my better judgment.” I check my watch. “I’ve
now got one minute.”
Grady huffs. “You’ll be hearing from me about this.”
“Fine,” I say and spin on my heels. “I’ve got to go.”
Grady continues to rant out on the street, something about getting his airtime and him being the obvious cohost .
I skip inside and see Fitz charming Erica, showing off our luxe interior. Hallie sits at her desk adjusting her fabrics that
sit alongside her cup of colored pencils and her dollhouse.
I turn and latch the front doors behind me. “Just going to close these up.” I giggle to myself as Grady continues his tirade
out on the street. “The mosquitos are such pests this year.”
“Thanks, doll,” Fitz calls over. “There was an especially angry one with a terrible comb-over that just flitted by.”
Erica doesn’t falter, likely assuming these are just odd Charlestonisms, but I chuckle. Before long Fitz and I are bantering
up a storm over a swatch book of fabrics to die for just as the golden hour hits. The sun cuts through the slats in the front
door, and by the grace of God, not a single dust mote mars the air. Eventually we pop open the doors to the patio and shoot
some takes out in front of the jasmine.
I’m proud of this place, of our work, and I wonder for the first time if maybe losing out on that fellowship was exactly what
we needed to get us where we’re going.