Home Matters (A Ripple Effect Romance Novella, Book 1) by Julie N. Ford Page B

stairs. “My retreat, I finally have my retreat!” came next.
    Noticing that her sketchpad had stopped on the page sporting a relaxing master retreat, Olivia reached over and slammed the book shut.
    “All right, I’ve heard enough,” Marty proclaimed. He stepped to the base of the stairs, cupping his hand over his mouth. “Mrs. Calhoun, could you please come back down here?”
    A moment later, she reappeared, literally bouncing down the stairs, her husband a few paces behind and holding back a smile. “I can’t wait to see my new home once you get all the furnishings in!” she exclaimed.
    Taking one Calhoun by each arm, Marty ushered them to the front door. “So glad you’re pleased with what we’ve done so far. But it’s time for you to get out of the way, let us finish our work.” He made careful eye contact with both Calhouns then eased them through the door. “Oh, and keep your cell phones close. I’m thinking we might need to push the time for the final reveal back a few hours,” he added, along with an genial smile.
    “A few hours?” Eleanor questioned once the door had closed behind them. “Try days. Weeks, even.”
    Marty crossed his arms over his chest, his face pinched in contemplation. “No.” He shook his head decisively. “The Calhouns are obviously over the moon for this design, so this is what we’re going to do. We’re leaving the design as is.”
    “But—” Eleanor protested, her thin bottom lip quivering like a spoiled child.
    Marty held up a hand. “Olivia.” He turned to face her, his gaze censuring, cold. “Since the network has already spent a fortune promoting you as the newest face of Home Matters, and inadvertently—or overtly—this catastrophe can somehow be traced back to you, I’m pushing the final taping back and giving you until tomorrow at sundown to pull this renovation together. And it’d better be stunning, or else,” he said, neglecting to define what the “or, else” consisted of. What would have been the point? They all knew it began with f and ended with ired. As in “ruined” and “never to work in the television industry again.”
    Olivia swallowed a softball-sized lump of trepidation. How in heaven’s name was she supposed to pull this design together on her own? Other than doodling on paper, she’d never once designed, much less decorated, a single room, which meant doing so for an entire house was far beyond her scope of imagination.
    “Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it,” she affirmed, only because she had no idea what else to say. “You won’t be disappointed,” she promised, her eyes unable to fully meet his.
    And that was when she caught sight of a familiar face—or more accurately, the face of a traitor—loitering just beyond the French doors.
    Their gazes met for only an instant before he ducked out of sight.
     

     
    Like a pressure cooker left on high, outrage swelled to dangerous levels inside Olivia as she knocked crewmembers out of her way, beating a sure path straight for the enemy.
    “ Why? ” she screamed.
    Pete secured a strap around a table saw and hooked it to the side of the trailer before turning to face her. “Let me guess. You’re not here to thank me?”
    Olivia blew out a stream of hot steam. “You stole my sketchpad, went behind my back, and everyone else’s, and for what?” She tossed her arms in the air. “We’re both going to be fired!”
    Pete stepped onto the trailer’s bumper and slid the back door closed. “Firing me would be redundant,” he said and hopped to the street. “Seeing as how I’ve already emailed my resignation to the network.”
    Not taking the time to fully process what he’d said, Olivia launched into the assault she’d planned in her head on the short walk out here. “I refuse to take the fall for your… Wait. What?” she said, then, “Why?”
    Pete’s brow rose to form a condescending look. “I think the ‘why’ should be obvious,” he said as he made a move to