Chapter 42
Present Day
I stretch and reach to wrap my fingers around the brass spaniel dog on a high wooden shelf. Fitz and I are shopping at Devereaux
Park Antiques, my favorite Friday afternoon activity. It’s a century-old spot a tad off the beaten path, slightly dark and
musty, but the finds are out of this world—and never overpriced like they are at the shops downtown. Devereaux has a furniture
section, a decor section, and an architectural salvage yard in the lot adjacent.
It’s a haven for local designers.
I hold the brass statue out to Fitz. “Isn’t he a doll? I’m getting him for the Daniel House.”
Fitz glances over from a stack of ceramics he’s gently peering through. “He is, but I’m more interested in hearing about the
other darling man in your life.”
It’s been about a week since my lunch date with Lincoln, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him.
“Oh, so you’re done giving him a hard time?” I ask.
Fitz scoffs. “I wasn’t about to let him waltz back in here without a bit of ribbing. Remember, I was the one helping you through the aftermath of him, and I didn’t hear the end of it about how awful he was to leave you right after you’d fallen for him. We could barely enjoy a cocktail together without you needing to rehash the whole thing.”
“That’s fair.” I join him at his side. “You took the brunt of it. And Fitz, he’s even better than I remember.”
I don’t look up from the china because I feel like the old me. I feel like that twentysomething willing to take a risk—for
herself and maybe for love. It’s wonderful and freeing, but also keenly unnerving when I remember how it hurts when it doesn’t
go to plan.
Fitz wraps an arm around me. “You deserve something good, honey, so I’ll keep my monkey business far away from it.”
When I look up, Fitz is serious—a rare occasion—and I know it’s for my sake.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “But don’t get the idea that I don’t want you around. I think it’d be fun for y’all to get to know
each other—just separately from whatever this is between him and me.”
“ Whatever this is ?” Fitz says. “Sure sounded like love on pause to me.”
I wander over to an old record player and begin inspecting the woodwork on the sides. “He hasn’t committed to that, so we’ll
have to see.”
“Whatever you say,” Fitz replies.
We continue looking quietly, bringing items to the front counter as we find them, eventually in stacks and piles. They know
us well, and we can be here for hours, treasure hunting. Eventually we find a gorgeous blue-and-white tobacco jar, a set of
oyster plates, a clock, and a high-back accent chair. We head outside into the heat to check out the architectural materials
before we go.
“You’ve got most of the big items for this house, so we can call this whirl browsing only ,” Fitz says.
“The day we skip this section is the day we miss the holy grail,” I say. “There are always more jobs, plus I wouldn’t mind an antique door for the butler’s pantry.”
“Fair enough,” Fitz says.
We walk the yard and little tickles our fancy. They have many of the old, heavy doors this home already has, and we’ve restored
the ones in place in the Daniel House.
“Look at that,” I say to Fitz, pointing out a gorgeous claw-foot tub.
“It’s nice,” Fitz says. “I’m just not sure about—”
We’re interrupted by the ringing of my phone. We both pause, and I know he’s thinking the same as me: Exquisite Interiors.
We shot three days of that first week and once earlier this week. It didn’t take long for it to feel second nature to have
cameras following us around. The crew signed off on Monday, claiming they had enough material, and the production team has
been working up an early version of the pilot. For the past few days, we’ve been waiting for word on how it’s coming together.
An unknown number scrolls across the screen and I flash it at Fitz.
He shrugs. “Could be someone we want to hear from.”
“Could also be one of a million scam calls,” I say as I answer. “Mack Bishop,” I say into the phone.
“Hi, Mack,” the caller says. “It’s Shante Robertson from Exquisite Interiors. How are you?”
“Oh hi , it’s great to hear from you.” I gesture at the phone to tip Fitz off. “We’re just out here at our antiques spot sourcing
some items for the Daniel House, actually. We’re so close to being done on the construction that we’re itching to put all
the pretty parts in it.”
“How fun,” Shante says. “That’s my favorite stage.”
“Mine too,” I say. “It’s when it really starts to feel like home.”
Shante laughs. “I wish I’d gotten you on camera saying that, but I guess we can call it a practice run.”
“Erica’s made us great at retaking a scene,” I say, laughing along.
“That’s wonderful,” she notes, “because we’ve tested the pilot in-house, and the response has been amazing. You and Fitz are
a hit, and the historic twist on construction is setting this show apart.”
“That’s wonderful news!”
“Yes. We’d love to offer you guys a contract for a full season.”
I do a silent scream and shake the phone. “That’s incredible! Thank you. This is the stuff of dreams.”
I can hear the smile in Shante’s voice. “I’m glad. We’ll set up a meeting to talk through contract details and go over everything
that’s involved. A full season is a real commitment, and it’s the type of job that it’s critical to stay on time for. We like
to be upfront about that before anyone signs on the dotted line.”
“Of course,” I say. “We’re ready for the challenge.”
“Perfect,” Shante says. “My assistant will email to set things up. Talk soon.”
“Thanks,” I say.
I end the call, and Fitz’s arms are already wrapped around me. There, between the old bed frames and hopeful sinks, we hop
in a circle holding each other.
We did it. We’re really getting a chance.
All these years I’ve felt under my mother’s thumb, indebted to her in some way that makes me bend to her, but this . This is all mine—and Fitz’s. She might’ve tried to insert herself and take over, but she won’t. Because she can’t.
And this for Fitz is a lease on life away from his family too.
“We did it, Magnolia Junior,” Fitz says. “We did it.”
“Me and you, kid,” I say.
Fitz wipes at a happy tear. “I’m going to need a new wardrobe.”
I laugh. “Let’s wait for instructions from the wardrobe team before we get ahead of ourselves.”
We turn to head back to the store.
“Contract or not, there isn’t a soul alive who can tell me what to wear,” Fitz says.
I don’t argue. He’s right, and to be frank, I just want to enjoy this moment. Anyone who wants to buy himself a new wardrobe
won’t hear a word from me because I’m getting to shoot a full season of Holy City Flip .