The Honey - Don't List
Like now. Rusty stands at her side, nodding and clapping at the more sentimental points in her toast. It’s an after-party, so the blazer is gone and he’s wearing one of his custom Broncos jerseys. He can let loose! He’s a fun dad and relatable!
He’s forty-five now, and while viewers still swoon over the strong jaw and quarterback build, they love even more the way he looks at his wife. Rusty looks at Melly like they’re celebrating their first anniversary this year, not their twenty-sixth. It’s the way she rolls her eyes at his jokes but then blushes, totally endearing. When they’re like this, it’s easy to see why their on-screen chemistry made them instant favorites on New Spaces. They were relatively unknown when the show started, but they—and their infectious love—immediately eclipsed the popularity of their costars, including the show’s former-Miss-America host, Stephanie, and the expert, Dan—a younger, hipper home remodeling icon who’d had his own show for years.
The Tripps’ outwardly enviable marriage is why Ford Motor Company used Melly and Rusty in a truck commercial. It’s why they have merchandise lines at Target and Walmart, emblazoned with their bright, blissful smiles; why their two home design books have both been longtime bestsellers, and why their soon-to-be-published book on marriage is already at the top of the sales charts and hasn’t even been released yet.
And, of course, Melly is an enormous stress case over the upcoming announcement of their new solo show, Home Sweet Home. We’re all overwhelmed, trying to strike while the iron’s hot, but what else can we do but work our hardest?
“Some people might say what we do is just decorating.” Melly is apparently not finished addressing the crowd, because she pulls attention back to where she stands at the front of the room. The table behind her is filled with empty champagne bottles and the remnants of a stunning six-tier petal-pink cake.
“They say it’s just home remodel,” she continues. “Just design.” Her high, sugary voice works well for TV because it matches her bubbly personality, white-blond hair, and animated expressions. But off set—and especially when she’s displeased and on a tear—that voice becomes cartoonish and piercingly loud. “But it’s always been our motto that the home reflects the person. Build the home you want, be flexible, and life will be a Tripp! Thank you for helping us share our philosophy! We love you all. Here’s to the next chapter!”
A chorus of cheers echoes through the group. Everyone drains their glasses and disperses to offer congratulations. Now the toast is over—never mind that the cast of New Spaces is composed of four independently famous individuals, and Melly has just monopolized the moment and ended with her own personal slogan, making it clear that no one else is going to speak in acknowledgment of what they’ve all accomplished together.
I glance over to gauge the reaction of Stephanie Flores, the aforementioned former Miss America, social media darling, and host of New Spaces. She seems to be keeping her eyes from rolling with great effort. Renovation god Dan Eiler is huddled with a producer, speaking in hushed, angry tones and jutting his chin toward the front of the room, where Melly just stood. Publicly, the show is ending so that everyone can pursue other new adventures—like the Tripps starting Home Sweet Home—but honestly I think it’s ending because no one can stand in Melly’s ever-growing shadow anymore. She may wear a size two and need sky-high heels to reach the top shelf in her own stockroom, but she is the alpha dog, and she will never let you forget it.
I see Rusty tug at Melly’s hand and nod toward the door. I don’t need to be a lip reader to know that she’s reminding him that this is their party—they have guests. Never mind that this entire room full of people essentially works for the Tripps, and a party with your boss isn’t really a party. I don’t think anyone would be all that disappointed if Melly and Rusty called it a night.
Setting my drink on the tray of a passing waiter, I check my watch and wince when I see that it’s almost eleven. Melly catches my eye across the room and looks around us in commiserating horror. What a mess, her expression groans. I scream through a smile; this mess is not her problem. Whether or not Rusty and Melly decide to stay, I am nowhere close to getting out of here. Sure, we have waiters circulating food, but in a half hour they’ll get to toss their aprons into the back of a catering van and head home. I’ll be left cleaning up.
I do the mental math. If I can get the place cleaned by one, I might be able to catch a few hours of sleep before our nine o’clock meeting. Netflix execs are actually flying to Jackson freaking Hole first thing tomorrow for a face-to-face, and the day after that, the Tripps leave for their book launch in Los Angeles and I get an entire week of living in my pajamas and not answering text messages in the middle of the night. I have to remind myself that this is mile twenty-five of the marathon; if I can just make it two more days, I can crash. But I’m running on tired legs: Before even prepping the wrap party today, we shot the remaining scenes for the two final New Spaces episodes—one with a family remodeling their craftsman home to welcome their first baby, and a five-season retrospective to close out the show. A normal day with Melissa Tripp is exhausting. Today was completely debilitating, and it’s not over yet.