by Wendy Wax
Good God, Maddie thought.
“Great job, Troy,” Avery bit out.
“Yeah, stellar,” Nikki added, hoisting herself out of her chair.
“I don’t understand how you can live with yourself,” Kyra said. “Especially here.” Kyra was no longer the only one glaring at Troy. If there’d been a rope and ladder handy, he’d already be swinging from the reclinata palm in the backyard. Maddie wouldn’t have lifted a finger to cut him down.
Steve was chuckling and shaking his head. “That moment when the flash went off by accident in your hand, Mad? Priceless!”
“Dad!”
“What?”
“It appears the time has come to say good night.” Troy stood and offered a slight bow.
“Good-bye would be even better.” Kyra glowered.
With a wince, but no comment, Troy headed to the door. Still chuckling, Steve followed him.
“God, that sucked,” Nikki said. “Big-time.”
Maddie nodded. “It did.” Whatever serotonin had seeped into Maddie’s system while she’d put Dustin to bed had evaporated shortly after the opening credits.
“Yeah.” Tears shimmered in Avery’s eyes. “I can’t stand watching Deirdre so alive when I know what’s coming. And I can’t stand seeing how I treated her.”
“I know.” Maddie put an arm around Avery’s shoulders and pulled her close. “But you had good reason and she knew it. It doesn’t matter how long it took you to reconcile, only that you did.”
“So much time got wasted.” Avery’s words were a miserable whisper.
“Yeah.” For a long moment they leaned against each other.
“I’m done,” Nikki said. “See you guys in the morning.”
Avery straightened. “I’m right behind you.”
“I’m way too agitated to even try to go to sleep.” Kyra looked at her phone. “It’s not even nine thirty. I think I’m going to get some air.”
“I’ll come with you.” Maddie couldn’t imagine trying to fall asleep, either. Stray bits and pieces of the episode zoomed through her brain like asteroids hurtling toward earth. “Will you guys keep an ear out for Dustin?”
They slipped on flip-flops and walked outside into the warm summer twilight. The breeze was gentle and salt tinged. The palm fronds stirred lazily. The Gulf breathed in and out, exhaling small waves onto the sand and inhaling them back again. Without discussion they took the sandy path toward the jetty and walked out onto the fishing pier.
“We need control over the show and our lives,” Kyra said tightly. “I can’t stand what Troy and the network have done to our show and us.”
“I agree, honey. We all do. But we’re completely on hold until we have enough money. And even if we can raise it, we have no guarantee we could reach a real audience with whatever we shot.”
“There’s got to be a way.”
“I know.” If only she had some idea of how they could achieve this.
They watched the moon rise and the stars begin to come out, their images reflected on the water. Dark shapes glided beneath the surface and she heard the soft exhalation of air that signaled a dolphin nearby. A sound that Will had once pointed out to her as they’d floated quietly out off one of his favorite flats.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out. As if summoned by her thoughts, Will’s face filled her screen.
“Go ahead,” Kyra said. “I’m going to walk a little way down the sidewalk.” She nodded up past the dunes and swaying sea oats to the first spill of streetlight.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Maddie-fan.” She felt a slight shiver of pleasure at the rich timbre of his voice. “You okay?”
“I’m feeling better now,” she said. “I’m pretty sure public humiliation isn’t fatal.”
“No, it’s not,” he agreed. “Or I would have been dead long ago.”
There was music in the background. The tinkle of glassware. Voices. “Hey, Will, hurry up!” The voice was female and impatient.
“Where are you?” She was careful not to ask about the woman who wanted him to hurry up. Hurry up and what?
“The Lorelei. We came out to play a set but we took a break to watch the show. Imagine everyone’s surprise when we realized how much of it took place right here. Everyone cheered when you stepped up to block the camera and tried to help protect me from that couple.”
“I think it was Hudson and the guys who sent them on their way,” she replied.
“But you were fierce, Maddie. Like a lioness protecting a cub.”
She blushed with pleasure. “Well, they had no right to demand things like that.”
Voices rose in the background. More than one of them was female. She clamped her mouth shut so she wouldn’t ask whom he was with. But that was all it took for the doubts to surface and for her nasty subconscious to demand to know just what Maddie had expected.
“When do you think you can get down to visit?” Will asked.
“I don’t know. We’re on an enforced hiatus. We’ve got to raise more money before we can do anything else on the property. But I’m not sure I should leave. It’s a kind of ‘all hands on deck’ time.” She missed him. Missed how she felt when she was with him. “What’s going on with you?”
There was more laughter. She heard him cover the mouthpiece with one hand and immediately imagined some woman brushing up against him, trying to convince him to get off the phone and pay attention to her. Stop it. For all you know he’s just ordering another Coke or a hamburger or something.
“Things are good. Just busier than I expected. The label wants us to do a mini tour of small venues. Apparently nostalgia is big right now. And I guess I’m old enough to be nostalgic as hell. I think there was a theater in Tampa on the list.”
“That would be great. Maybe you could stay on a few days or something.” Why was she afraid to come out and invite him?
“I’d like that, Maddie-fan. Let me check the schedule.”
“Come on, Will!” It was the same voice. Up close and personal.
She pushed herself off the dock and began to make her way to Kyra. No. Have a little faith. Will wouldn’t have called you if he was with some other woman.
Ha! her subconscious countered. You know how that works. He doesn’t have to be with them for them to want to be with him.
Don’t start assuming things.
All right, her subconscious shot back when Will told her he had to go. I won’t if you won’t. This was followed by a derisive snort of laughter. Apparently her subconscious not only had an attitude; it had a nasty sense of humor.
Chapter Thirty
“Breathe.”
“I am breathing,” Avery said.
“No, you’re hyperventilating. That’s not the same thing.”
Avery couldn’t quite stop the eye roll or manage to do what Chase suggested. The deep breath she took remained harsh and ragged.
They stood between the pockmarked pool and the entrance to the Sunshine Hotel’s main building. The patchwork of tarps that covered the roof snapped in the brisk afternoon breeze. Surf pounded against the sand. “We’ve been at this for almost six weeks and the property looks even worse than when we began. And Nikki and Ray aren’t getting anywhere near the kind of response we were counting on from the list of potential sponsors.” She paced several steps, then paced back to Chase’s side, not quite able to stay still.
“We have to look at this from a different angle,” Chase said. “And that’s hard to do without enough oxygen to the brain.”
She drew another breath, let it out. Still ragged. “What other angle is there?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “I mean, I thought we were in budget hell with the network, but at least there was a budget.”
“I think we need to rethink the scope of the project,” Chase said. “Let go
of the elements that aren’t critical and then pick a few key places to wow the shit out of everybody.”
She paced toward the building, came back again. But this time the thought made it past the layer of panic. Deirdre had had a similar approach to design when money was tight, something she’d dealt with on her father’s projects before she went to Hollywood, and on their Do Over budgets, which had been intentionally miniscule. A few small, really expensive accents or an eye-popping fabric on a couple of throw pillows were like a magician’s sleight of hand. A means of making the audience focus where the magician wanted their attention. “That’s not entirely stupid,” she conceded.
“Gee, thanks.”
She thought about the property. What mattered most. “So we pour in as much as we can here.” She nodded to the building in front of them. “Spalike locker rooms, fabulous beachy-chic dining room, comfortable yet luxurious lobby/reception area. All high ceilings, glass walls, acres of terrazzo. And the killer roof deck. Where we’ll have the most exciting sunset viewing experience on the west coast of Florida.”
“Exactly.” Chase nodded enthusiastically.
“And the cottages?” she asked after a less ragged breath.
“I say we focus on getting them weather tight and deal with them once we have more money in place. My crew will be available soon.”
“If they can cut up the old concrete then repour the decking, the walkways, and maybe the new patios, we can help with the grunt work,” Avery said.
“Have I mentioned that hearing you talk construction turns me on almost as much as when you’re covered in sawdust?”
“Blueprint.” She arched an eyebrow. “Header. Foundation.” She drew out the last word in mock-suggestive breathiness. She laughed but didn’t push him away when he nuzzled her neck. The kiss was sweet and meant, she knew, to soothe more than excite. But nothing could completely distract her from their number one problem: their budget or lack of one. “Even scaling down and relying on sleight of hand, we’re still going to need more money than we’re likely to get.” A lack of funds might be the mother of invention, but a renovation of any size could not be done with creativity alone.
“Well, Hardin Morgan Construction wants in.”
“That’s sweet, Chase, but . . .”
“Seriously, Avery. Dad asked me to remind you that the firm’s behind you. We’ll even work for peanuts.” He smiled. “Some of us might even be willing to settle for kisses. Or other demonstrations of affection.”
Her eyes blurred with tears.
“Plus Enrico’s not the only Dante who wants in. And God knows that family has enough skilled artisans to build a city. Roberto even offered to bring his houseboat up and dock nearby to handle the carpentry.”
Her heart actually leapt at the thought of Roberto Dante, the head-bobbing, tie-dye-wearing former hippie carpenter, who had done so much for Mermaid Point.
“You know I have a huge crush on that man.”
“Yeah. Apparently the feeling’s mutual,” Chase replied. “I’m twisting arms over at our pool company. And Dad put in a call to our window and door people. We’ll find a way to make it happen.”
“It means a lot to me having you so on board. And I want to believe we can pull it off. I really do. But even if we rebuilt this place with our own two hands, we have to have enough money for materials and furnishings. I’m trying, but it feels kind of like trying to believe in the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus despite all evidence to the contrary.”
“It’s not a matter of trying, Avery. You believe or you don’t.” Chase slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “You need to get all the way on board, or I’m going to have to give you some serious noogies.” He knuckled his fist in her hair.
She snorted. “What are you, like ten?”
He grinned, unrepentant, but he dropped his hand. “And I wouldn’t let Maddie hear you doubting. That’s a very half-empty attitude you’ve got going.”
“Are you kidding? I’d be happy if the glass were only half empty. I’m afraid there might be a huge hole in the bottom.”
“It’s going to be okay, Avery,” he said with a certainty she wished she could feel. “And I wouldn’t count Nikki out, either. Even under the weather like she’s been lately, she’s a hard woman to say no to.”
“No, I’m sorry. But the answer is no.” Bitsy Baynard’s voice on the phone was clear and firm. Allowing for absolutely no wiggle room. “Things are a little tight at the moment. In fact, I’m going to have to withdraw some of what I originally promised.”
Nikki slumped in the passenger seat of Ray’s Cadillac. It was the first day of July. The thermometer showed ninety-one humidity-filled degrees. She’d aimed all of the vents at herself and turned the fan to high when he’d run into the 7-Eleven. Despite the ferocity with which the air-conditioning was blowing on her, she could feel sweat dampening her hair and dripping between her breasts. She felt distinctly light-headed as she wondered just how tight things could be for someone with Bitsy’s resources.
A text dinged in. She swiped the screen to take a look. Malcolm. Perspiration dotted her upper lip. Her pulse thrummed in her veins. He’d begun texting her at all hours of the day and night. Small bursts of words carefully crafted to look innocuous but meant to bully and intimidate. How’s Joe? Have you been traveling lately?
She blotted at her face with a crumpled tissue trying to keep her thoughts on the phone call. Bitsy had stood by her when others had not; she’d been unfailingly generous. “No problem, I completely understand. Please let me know if anything changes.” They said their good-byes and hung up. Nikki deleted Malcolm’s text as she had all the others and stuck her face right up against the nearest AC vent as the car door opened.
“Are you all right?” Ray slid into the driver’s seat, dropped a plastic bag on the floor of the backseat, and gave her an appraising look. “You don’t look so good.”
“Good God. Why does everyone think they have the right to weigh in on my appearance?” Even Dustin had put a small hand out to cup her cheek and said, “Nik-key have owie?” “What happened to manners and common courtesy?”
“Sorry,” Ray said. “It’s just that your face is so white that . . . hold on.” He pulled a bottled water out of the plastic bag, unscrewed the cap, and put it to her lips.
“What are you doing?”
“Shh. Drink.” He tilted the bottle up so that she had no other option. “I think you might be dehydrated.”
“No. Wait.” The water dribbled down her chin, then sloshed down her throat when she stopped talking. She gagged slightly. Swallowed. Drank some more. The water was cold in her dry, parched throat. When she’d drunk all she could, she pushed his hand away. Swallowed one last time. “Don’t ever do that again.”
He raised both hands palm out. “Sorry. Just trying to help.”
“I am not dehydrated.” She looked down at the cream blouse now dotted with water stains. “I’m soaked now. But not dehydrated.” She glanced down at her watch, drew a steadying breath. “We need to get going. I don’t want to be late for our appointment.”
“Yes, ma’am. Rearden Lighting coming right up.” He put the car in gear and backed out of the parking space. She closed her eyes against the sun’s glare but she could feel his eyes on her. “You know, we could postpone this meeting. Or you could wait in the car while I go in.”
“No.”
“We could postpone and I could take you to a walk-in clinic. Just to make sure there’s nothing wrong.”
“No.” This time she opened her eyes. But was careful not to let them show fear. She’d never felt this awful for this long. Not since she’d had mono in high school.
Another text dinged in. She didn’t look at it. She tried to turn her thoughts to the upcoming meeting and pitch, but her mind once again filled with memories of her mother’s horrible decline, the way she’d wast
ed away until her body finally shut down.
“I’m worried about you, Nikki.”
“Hmmm?” She tried to focus on what Ray was saying. But her thoughts and worries were spinning in a rush of color and noise, like a merry-go-round whirling out of control.
“Nothing,” he said. He turned into the lighting company’s parking lot and put the car in park. “Seriously, Nikki. Why don’t you just wait here and let me . . .”
“No.” Another text. Another worried look from Ray. She graspsed the door handle and pushed the door open. One foot hit the pavement.
“Wait, let me help you!” Ray was out of his door and racing around the car even as she levered herself out of hers. “Lord, you are stubborn.”
“You’re not the first person to say that,” she said, holding on to the door as the world and Ray went in and out of focus. She blinked rapidly, attempted to catch her breath. “And you probably won’t be the last.” A blast of hot humid air hit her. The merry-go-round sped up. The music became a screech. She took a step. Forced herself to take another. “You see. I’m perfectly all . . .” She did not finish her thought, her sentence, or her step. Her knees buckled and she fell face-first. The last thing she saw was the concrete rising up to meet her.
Chapter Thirty-one
“Hello?” Joe Giraldi’s image on the iPhone screen was large enough to reveal a polite smile. His voice came through loud and clear.
“Hello!” Annelise shouted.
“You don’t have to yell,” Renée said to Annelise, who sat next to her. Both of them were staring at the iPhone propped upright against a small stack of books on Renée’s kitchen table. Joe Giraldi’s face filled the screen. Their heads, which might have been gray-and-white Q-tips over faces too small to decipher, filled a small box in the corner.
