by Wendy Wax
“Oh. Come in.” She stopped just short of calling him “colonel.” “You must be a friend of the Franklins.” And, she hoped, a potential sponsor. “Let me take you to them.” She led him down the central hallway, walking slowly, mindful of his age and his measured steps behind her.
Steve Singer looked up from the beer he was drinking when they stepped out onto the loggia. Troy began to reach for his camera. Kyra froze for an instant, then gave him a shake of her head.
When Avery and the elderly gentleman reached the table, John Franklin looked up curiously, but it was Dustin whose face lit up.
“Dundell!” He ran at the old man as if he was planning to jump into his arms. Avery reached out to intercept him.
“It’s all right, young lady.” The man’s voice was still old and slow, but there was something new in it. Avery turned to see the man’s face begin to change. A dimple appeared from nowhere. His smile as he opened his arms to the little boy was quick and dazzling.
“Dundell!” Dustin launched himself into the man’s arms. “You comed to git me!”
“I sure did, Dustbin! I never could fool you.”
Kyra looked up, and for a brief moment her face looked as happy as her son’s. Troy glowered at the movie star. Steve Singer got up, offered a curt nod, and walked inside.
“I take it this is not, in fact, Colonel Sanders come to deliver a bucket of extra crispy.” Chase smiled and reached out a hand. “Chase Hardin.” He shook the liver-spotted hand quite vigorously. “This is my dad, Jeff. Dad, I’m pretty sure this is Daniel Deranian.”
Daniel winked and smiled his movie star smile, complete with gleaming white teeth. As he straightened and allowed his true self to emerge, it became difficult to understand how she could have been fooled so completely. With a shrug Avery headed back to the kitchen. Hearing raised voices, she hesitated in the hallway.
“Just who does he think he is?” Steve demanded in an almost childlike whine.
“I think he knows exactly who he is,” Maddie replied tartly. “He’s Dustin’s father. He’s also the person who gave your daughter, and by extension the rest of us, this beautiful roof over our heads.” Drawers were yanked opened and slammed shut. Silverware rattled. “And I think you need to try a little harder to remember that.”
Impressed with Maddie’s assertiveness, Avery poked her head in to the kitchen. “Anything I can do to help?” She looked meaningfully at Steve, hoping that Maddie would ask her to show him to the door. Or allow her to encourage him to take a long walk off a short pier.
“Steve’s going to go help Chase light the grill,” Maddie said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Can you let Nikki know that dinner will be on the table in twenty-five minutes or so?”
“What, you’re not planning to send a tray up to Her Majesty?” Avery asked.
Maddie turned the cease-and-desist mother stare she’d been aiming at Steve on Avery. “I don’t think she’s feeling any better than she looks. It’ll do her good to come down. But be gentle.”
Avery snorted, marched up the stairs. She knocked briskly on Nikki’s bedroom door.
There was no answer or movement. Avery knocked louder.
“Go away.” The voice warbled noticeably. “I don’t feel good.”
“Yeah, I get that,” Avery said. “But you need to come downstairs.”
“I can’t come down. I’m . . .” The voice trailed off as if its owner simply didn’t have the strength to finish the sentence.
“You have to come down,” Avery replied through the door. “We’re going to be explaining the issues with the renovation and the budget and we need a show of solidarity.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“You mean you won’t.” Avery felt her temper rise.
Nikki didn’t respond. Nor did she open the door.
Avery jiggled the doorknob. She had the oddest urge to put her shoulder to the door and force it open.
“Go away!” The voice had gathered power. “I told you. I’m not coming down.”
And people called her stubborn. Without debating the advisability of what she was doing, Avery reached into her back pocket, pulled out the screwdriver she’d used earlier, and stuck it into the center of the knob. One twist and the lock popped open.
“Hey!” Nikki’s voice was indignant. But there wasn’t a whole lot of energy behind it.
“Sorry.” Avery pushed the door open and walked into the bedroom. Nikki wore ragged cutoff shorts and a hacked-off T-shirt. She sat on top of the rumpled covers with her legs drawn up to her chest. Avery had never seen her so poorly dressed, not even on Mermaid Point in the sauna of a Keys summer. The sight of Nicole’s raggedy clothing was almost more frightening than the black eyes, the swollen cut lip, and the huge lump on her forehead.
“Wow.” Avery came closer, unable to take her eyes off Nikki’s battered face. “I think this is when you’re supposed to say, ‘you should see the other guy.’” Avery winced. It actually hurt to look at her. “Only there is no other guy.”
“I can’t come down like this.” Nikki wrapped her arms around her legs, rested her chin on her knees.
The doorbell chimed downstairs. The sound of the door opening and Maddie’s greeting reached them. It sounded as if the Dantes had arrived. “You do look like shit,” she conceded.
“Yeah, well, that’s not exactly a news flash.” Nikki sighed, which made her look even more pathetic.
“Listen, I’m sorry you don’t feel good. But Maddie said to bring you down. We need someone who can put a good spin on things. My face gets all red and blotchy. I totally suck at it.”
“While I’m highly skilled.” Nikki’s voice had turned droll. Which was slightly better than pathetic.
“I didn’t mean that exactly,” Avery backpedaled. “But you were a matchmaker. And that requires playing up assets and downplaying liabilities, right? It would help if you could, you know, highlight all the potential sponsors you think might still be interested.”
“There are no potential sponsors we can count on. Some of our sponsors have actually taken back part of what they pledged.”
“It’s not like you to be so defeatist,” Avery said. “The Nikki I know doesn’t give up as soon as things get a little tough.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do. Hell, I barely recognize myself.” The pathetic tone was back. “And FYI, I think we’re way beyond ‘a little tough.’”
Avery stood not caring whether she jiggled the bed or not. “You know what? You go ahead and sit up here feeling sorry for yourself all you want. But just remember, it’s not only yourself you’re letting down.”
It was a tight fit around the loggia table, but Maddie thought everyone enjoyed the meal. By the time they’d finished it off with Annelise’s Bavarian fruit tart and Kyra’s brownies, the sun was close to setting. Dustin drowsed in his father’s lap presenting the oddest picture: Colonel Sanders and child. Maddie could practically see Avery building up the nerve to discuss the renovation, but it was John Franklin who exchanged a look with his wife and sister-in-law and said, “We noticed that things are not progressing on the property. Is there a problem?”
Avery squirmed in her seat. Large red blotches appeared on her cheeks. “We’ve encountered a few budget issues,” Avery said carefully. “A bit of a shortfall.”
“Meaning?” he asked.
Avery cleared her throat. “Meaning we haven’t been able to raise quite as much money as we need to complete the project.”
“How much more do you need?” Renée asked.
Maddie would have given a lot for Nikki’s calm confidence at the table even if it was a façade. Another blotch appeared on Avery’s neck.
“To do everything we want to do and have it turnkey for a buyer/operator we’d need another two million dollars.” She swallowed. “At the moment
we have enough to complete all the roofs and the pool and the decking and walkways, as well as the new patios.”
“But that’s not even half of what needs to be done,” Annelise said.
“We have a lot of companies committed to the project,” Chase said. “A number of our suppliers have agreed to donate materials in exchange for television exposure. Most other materials will be provided at cost. So in many cases we’re just looking at labor. I have a crew ready to start pulling up the old concrete and then we’ll focus on the main building while Enrico and his crew begin on the roofs.”
John and Renée bent their heads together. Annelise stared out over the water where the final sunbeams glittered. Dustin was slumped against his father completely asleep. Daniel was listening and watching the conversation with interest.
Enrico stood and removed his baseball cap, held it between gnarled fingers. His bald head reflected the last glimmers of sunshine. “We can begin on the roofs and support beams as soon as we finish our current job in just a few days,” he said. “We, too, will need only enough money to pay for the cost of the materials and labor. I have put out a call to the famiglia.” He aimed a slight bow in Maddie’s direction. “Even Mario has offered to come up from Miami to handle the plaster and any tile work if we need him. And I think to see the lovely Signora Singer.”
Maddie blushed at the reminder of Mario’s gentle interest. Steve scowled. Troy and Kyra shot the proceedings from every conceivable angle.
Roberto stood next. His ponytail hung down between his knobby shoulders; his weathered skin resembled leather. “I’m here for the duration.” He bobbed his head gently. “I’m sure that between me and Chase and Jeff and their crew, we can handle all the carpentry. My good friend Fred Strahlendorf has asked if he can come up and take care of the electrical at cost.”
“And we still have potential sponsors to follow up with,” Ray said. “That effort is far from over.”
“Devotion is admirable, but what happens if you run out of money before you can finish?” John asked.
Daniel shifted Dustin into the crook of his arm. He looked as if he wanted to speak but remained silent.
“We’re not going to let that happen,” Ray said.
“Avery, Nikki, and I have all agreed to put in what we have left from the sale of Bella Flora,” Maddie said, ignoring Steve’s start of surprise.
“It’s not ideal, but it’s not unheard of to do a project in phases,” Jeff added. “Once the roofs are sound and the structures are weather tight, there’s no longer a rush in dealing with the interiors.”
“But we can’t let this drag on forever,” Annelise said.
“We’ve waited more than thirty years,” Renée said. “I think we can give them time to finish the project.”
“But what if they get halfway through and can’t finish?” John asked. “That would present a lot of problems in finding a buyer.”
“We’re not going to let that happen,” Avery said.
“I’d like to help,” Daniel said. “I could contribute to the renovation budget.”
Kyra lowered her camera. “Thanks,” she said. “I know we all appreciate the offer. But you’ve already done more than enough.”
“What if I just cover the amount the Franklins and Miss Handleman have invested?” he asked, looking at Renée and Annelise. “Plus whatever it would cost to tear down the structures in the extremely unlikely event the project couldn’t be completed?”
“That’s not going to be necessary,” Avery said again.
Maddie watched Daniel’s face. He was offering hundreds of thousands of dollars with the same ease she might offer fifty.
“Then the money I’m offering isn’t at risk,” Daniel said reasonably. “But it might make everyone more comfortable.”
Renée, Annelise, and John exchanged glances. It was John who gave the final nod.
It wasn’t the kind of victory that seemed to demand a celebration. No one lingered long after the table was cleared. Daniel carried Dustin upstairs. Kyra trailed behind them, ostensibly to finish packing up Dustin’s things; she’d agreed to let him go on location with his father, a decision Maddie knew would not sit well with Tonja Kay. Not that Kyra had asked Maddie’s opinion or permission.
She gave the countertops a final swipe and brushed her hair off her face. She was tired, but also relieved. Nothing was going as well as any of them had hoped, but at least they could move forward.
The doorbell rang. For once Steve sprang into action without being prodded. She heard the front door open.
“Is Maddie here?” The voice was male. The sound of it had her removing her apron, swiping at her hair again, and hurrying toward the front door.
“Is she expecting you?” Steve’s voice was belligerent; his body seemed to be barring the way.
Maddie stepped up behind him.
“There you are. I know it’s late. We have rehearsal tomorrow in Tampa and . . . well, I apologize for taking you by surprise.”
“It’s the best surprise ever.” She stepped around Steve in a hurry to get to Will. “This is Steve Singer. My . . . my ex-husband.” She drew a deep breath. Telling herself she was not responsible for Steve or his feelings, she completed the introduction. “Steve, I don’t think you’ve been formally introduced before, but this is William Hightower.” She did not call him her boyfriend or even her main squeeze. She simply threw her arms around William’s neck and kissed him.
Chapter Thirty-three
Kyra reached over to grasp one droopy end of Daniel’s Colonel Sanders mustache. Slowly she pulled it away from his skin. The white wig had been crammed into the planter’s hat, which sat next to the discarded white jacket. His dark hair stood on end, sweaty from its confinement. White powder still coated his face and hands, obscuring his normally golden skin. Dustin slept in the center of her bed, one thumb tucked into his mouth, his index finger curled around the bridge of his nose. An open suitcase sat near him.
“If I’d known the paparazzi had completely abandoned you, I wouldn’t have bothered with the disguise.” He rubbed at the glue that had anchored the mustache.
“They didn’t abandon us. We bored them into going away.” It had been such a relief not to be constantly under surveillance.
“I wasn’t joking when I told you that you need them, Kyra.” He pulled off the bushy white eyebrows as he spoke. “If you really want to create and air your own version of Do Over, you need more than money. You need an audience.”
“I wish you hadn’t pledged that money. I don’t want to keep asking you for things.”
“You didn’t ask. In fact, you’re one of the few people I know who never does. I was glad to do it.”
Seeing how ready he was for the subject to change, she went to the dresser to retrieve a pair of pajamas and a stack of shorts and T-shirts, then tucked them into Dustin’s suitcase alongside a Pass-a-Grille sweatshirt and his favorite sneakers. “I’ve packed a week’s worth of Pull-Ups. He does okay with big-boy underwear during the day—as long as someone’s paying attention. But nighttime’s a different story. He needs his . . .”
“I know, Kyra. I’ve done this before. And Dustin’s not exactly shy about saying what he needs and wants.”
This was true. But that was surrounded by family. A movie set would be filled with strangers. “But what about . . .”
“Tabitha Marlowe is already in Montana. You saw her résumé and spoke to her references,” Daniel said. “She’s the best there is, Kyra. Here’s her cell phone number.” He pressed a piece of paper with the nanny’s number into her palm. “She’s got yours on speed dial. Plus there’s a hundred-member crew. I promise there’ll be no shortage of people keeping an eye out and showering Dustin with attention.”
This was also true. The production assistants and gofers would kill for the chance to get close to Daniel by showing an interest in his
son. She shot him a look. She knew firsthand just how charismatic he was in person, how incredibly hard he was to resist, and what a talented actor he was. A talent he wielded freely and not just in front of the camera.
Carefully she retrieved Dustin’s favorite books from the nightstand and began to rearrange the contents of his suitcase so that she could fit them in between his clothes. She applied herself to the task as if the location of each item somehow mattered.
“You could still be a part of that crew if you wanted to be.” Daniel moved up behind her. “I have a plane waiting.” He said this softly as he slipped his arms around her so that his body cocooned hers. “You could just come with us.”
For a moment she feared she was going to turn in his arms and surrender. She allowed herself to imagine abandoning all resistance, to feeling his hands and mouth on her naked skin.
She drew a deep, shuddering breath. It was only Dustin rolling over with a small mewling sound that saved her. Kyra turned her head and detached herself. Through the window she saw movement out near the pool. Her father. Who had smashed his quarter-of-a-century marriage and their family by giving in and focusing only on himself.
“No.” She turned to face Daniel but kept her distance. “There’s no reason to risk pissing Tonja off more than usual. She may be able to live with you spending a few weeks with your son, and I’m glad you and Dustin will have the time together. But I guarantee you she’d never forgive my being a part of the visit. Besides, I don’t belong on that movie set.” She looked out the window once more and saw her father sitting alone staring out over the pass. “If things were less complicated . . .” She shrugged. Things with Daniel would never be simple. “I appreciate the invitation, but even if I were a better actress than I am, I wouldn’t be up for playing the role you’re offering.”
