Sunshine Beach

by Wendy Wax

  A short time later she followed Daniel downstairs and out the front door to the waiting town car. The driver took Dustin’s suitcase and the bag of Pull-Ups and stowed them in the trunk as Daniel buckled Dustin into the car seat and settled into the backseat beside him.

  Dustin’s eyes opened sleepily as Kyra leaned across Daniel to tighten the straps and kiss his forehead. “I love you, little man. Have fun with your dad.”

  “Luff you.” His head lolled to the side. His thumb found its way back into his mouth as his eyes closed.

  “You’ll text when you land to let me know you both got there okay?”

  Daniel nodded.

  “And we’ll FaceTime at least every other day so Dustin can talk to me.”

  “You can talk to each other as many times a day as you want.” Daniel smiled. “We’ll have a blast together and he’ll be back before you know it.”

  She nodded slowly. Watched Dustin’s long dark lashes, so like his father’s, flutter up briefly then down.

  “But if you want to check on him yourself, or you need a break, the invitation stands,” he said quietly. “There’s a lot more between us than just our child, Kyra. You know that, don’t you?” His dark eyes held hers. It took everything she had not to answer or agree.

  “Have a good flight,” she said finally. “Don’t forget to text when you get there.”

  It was his turn to nod. She stepped back as he reached to pull the door closed, then stood in the spill of the streetlight watching the black car disappear into the night.

  She went back inside locking the front door and turning off lights. She’d been pregnant with Dustin the first time she’d seen Bella Flora. She’d also been hopelessly naïve and convinced that the movie star she’d fallen in love with would magically appear to sweep her and their child off to happily ever after. That wasn’t exactly how it had gone, but she’d been far luckier than she’d deserved. Lucky to have her mother as an integral part of their lives, lucky to be a part of Do Over or whatever they could make of it, lucky to have this fabulous home that was big enough to hold all of them. Lucky that Daniel wanted to be a part of Dustin’s life.

  In the salon she snapped off the light and looked out at the pool deck. A light shone in the pool house, and she thought her father might have gone inside until she saw movement on the chaise where she’d seen him earlier. Unable to leave him sitting in the dark by himself, she left the house and walked outside. The rising moon cast shadows on Bella Flora’s pink walls and darkened her white trim. In the sunshine she often looked like a wedding cake fresh out of the bakery box. At night she felt castle-like, a fortress wrapped protectively around them.

  Her feet crunched on bits of sand and gravel. There was movement on the chaise. “Maddie?” Her father’s voice was painfully hopeful.

  “No, Dad. It’s me.” Kyra reached his chaise and perched on the edge of the one beside it. The moonlight did not flatter her father. His lips turned downward and his eyes were dark holes in his shadowed face. His arms were folded across his chest. Though he lay on a chaise beside a pool that overlooked the water, he was not the least bit relaxed.

  “Of course it’s not your mother. She’s with that damned Hightower.” He turned and looked at her. “She’s in her fifties for God’s sake, and she’s nothing but some rock star’s booty call.”

  Kyra stifled the laugh that bubbled up. Her father was completely serious. “Will’s here?”

  “Oh, he’s here, all right. She took him up to her bedroom five minutes after he arrived.” He sat forward and turned his gaze toward the back bedroom where her mother slept. The blinds were closed. The light from a single lamp glowed softly.

  “Dad,” she said gently. “They’re in a relationship. You know that.”

  “Hmmph!” He expelled a breath of air. “Don’t you wonder why? That man could probably have anyone he wanted. What do you think he’s doing with her?”

  Any thought of laughter evaporated. “You’re right, Dad. Will probably could have anyone he wanted but he was smart enough to choose Mom. And he knows just how lucky he is to have her. Something you seem to have forgotten a long time ago.” She shifted on the chaise. “And he would never have had a chance if you’d treated her the way you should have. Or valued her the way she deserves.”

  His jaw jutted out. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t I?” She leaned toward him. “I know who fell apart when you lost everything and who didn’t.” Her own jaw jutted in anger. “And I know who thought about and took care of everyone else including you. And who only thought about himself.”

  “You have no right to talk to me this way.”

  “Maybe not,” she said, knowing her mother would agree with that statement. “But you have no right to say nasty things about my mother when all she ever did was try to take care of us.”

  He looked away and she saw him blink rapidly. Something wet slid down his cheek and she realized with horror that he was crying.

  “I never thought she’d leave me.” His tone was that of a little boy who’d been betrayed.

  “You didn’t even try to help her,” Kyra said, even further incensed by the whiny tone. “You just gave up and dumped our whole life on her. And then you were angry when she found the strength to carry the whole load.”

  “I never thought she’d have the guts to leave me.” He swiped at his cheek. She heard him sniff but she couldn’t leave it there.

  “That’s because you underestimated her. We all did. But she’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.” She continued to stare at her father’s shadowed face. “I hope I turn out to be half as good a mother and human being as she is.” She realized just how true the words were only as she said them. As a child she’d taken her mother for granted. But her mother had always stepped up to whatever challenge had been thrown at her. She’d survived the loss of everything they’d owned to Malcolm Dyer’s Ponzi scheme. Then she’d been the glue that held everyone together during that sweat-soaked summer spent bringing Bella Flora, their lone remaining asset, back to life. She’d found a way to turn every place they’d wound up together—even that god-awful houseboat on Mermaid Point—into a home. “And you’re the one who started dating first.”

  He grimaced. “I don’t understand how she can be with that . . . that wild man.” Her father’s voice remained a plaintive whine.

  “William’s spent a lot of time working on himself. And he appreciates her for who she is,” Kyra said. “You wanted her to stay the person you thought she was.”

  He sighed, ran a shaking hand through his hair. “I came here hoping we could patch things up and I don’t know, maybe give it another try.”

  Kyra looked at him in surprise. “Really, Dad? Because I think you just want your old life back. You haven’t done anything that would make her regret her decision since you’ve been here. All you’ve done is complain and find fault and expect everybody to wait on you.”

  He closed his eyes. Shook his head sadly. “I can’t believe it’s really over. I don’t know how I’ll . . . Do you think if I . . .”

  Kyra remained silent. But even as she watched the pain etched in his shadowed face, she sensed that the pain was about him and the loss of what he wanted.

  “Well, I guess I better get to bed.” He sat up and swiveled. Slowly he began to lever himself off the chaise. “I’ll be out of everyone’s hair in the morning.”

  “But where will you go?” Kyra stood, too. The breeze off the water was warm and heavy.

  He shrugged again as he straightened. “I don’t know. I’m not sure who I even am anymore. Not without your mother. I hope I’m not too old to figure it out.”

  Kyra watched the play of moonlight on his face. Once she had worshipped this man, had thought he could do no wrong. “Well, I know you’re still my father. You can stay here as long as you want to.”r />
  “And do what?” he asked quietly, his voice thick with sadness.

  “You can stay here and help.”

  Bella Flora was quiet the next morning when Nikki awoke. Except for the doorbell. Which someone seemed to be leaning on. She groaned, buried her face in the pillow waiting for someone to answer it. The doorbell kept ringing.

  “Jesus!” Her brain fuzzy and her limbs heavy, she fought her way out of the sheets that were wound around her, and struggled to an upright position on the side of the bed. Which was when she noticed she was still dressed in the clothes that she’d been wearing for, well, she wasn’t sure exactly how long she’d been wearing them. Without looking in the mirror or using the bathroom she so badly needed, she walked down the front stairs, moved to the door, and yanked it open. “What the hell do you . . . ?”

  She broke off midsentence when she saw Joe Giraldi’s eyes. Which were pinned to her face with a look of abject horror. “What happened?”

  Her eyes blurred with tears. She’d been steeling herself against the first time she’d see him, had told herself to remain slightly aloof, not to get close enough for him to guess what was going on. But the horror in his voice and the concern in his eyes almost undid her. “I heard you were under the weather. That you’d ended up in the emergency room. But . . . who did this to you?” His tone of voice made it clear that whoever it was would be extremely sorry. And possibly not breathing.

  “No one. No one did this to me. It was an accident.” She’d thought she’d keep her distance, but he came in without asking. When he grasped her by her arms so that he could look more closely, the warmth of his hands, not the strength of his grip, made her whimper.

  “Sorry.” He let go, but he didn’t step back. She could see him cataloging her injuries, assessing the damage. “What the hell happened?”

  “I was out on a sales call with Ray. And I, um, was apparently dehydrated. I just kind of passed out. I fell down in a parking lot.”

  “You kind of passed out? Isn’t that like being a little bit pregnant?”

  She blinked at the comparison but was careful not to react. It was just an expression. Maddie was the only one who knew and she’d been sworn to secrecy.

  “I take it you went down face-first?”

  She nodded carefully, reminding herself not to offer too much information that might trip her up later. The man sweated confessions out of people for a living. He could read faces like some people read street signs. Luckily, hers was so messed up he’d have a hard time reading anything. Still, it would be best to stick as close to the truth as possible without revealing the one thing she didn’t want him to know. This would be far easier if her brain wasn’t moving so slowly and her heart weren’t beating so frantically. His eyes dropped from her face to her body. She saw him taking in the wrinkled halter and the skimpy cutoffs. She’d had no appetite and was pretty sure she hadn’t put on any weight. Surely it was too soon for anyone, even Joe, who knew her intimately, to be able to tell. Still, she couldn’t keep standing here allowing him to examine her. “What are you doing here? Did you need something?”

  His eyes moved over her face. “I’m headed down to Sarasota to talk with a retired agent. I’ll be meeting with Renée and Annelise tomorrow to share what I find out. I thought maybe we could . . .” He looked into her eyes. She was careful to keep her expression polite but neutral and her mouth shut so that she wouldn’t have to lie to him. She loved him; she’d never been more aware of that fact than at this moment when all she wanted to do was throw herself in his arms and stay there forever.

  But she was not a child. She did not need Joe or anyone else to take care of her. She would find a way to protect him from Malcolm and even from herself. Given her age and her past history, the chances that she’d carry and deliver a healthy baby were miniscule. Nothing had really changed. There was no reason to give him false hope or the promise of a family that she’d probably not be able to deliver.

  “Never mind. I thought that you might . . . but clearly I was mistaken.” Now he stepped back. His brown eyes were shuttered.

  She smiled politely and spoke as if to a stranger. “Thanks for stopping by. I know we all appreciate what you’re trying to do for Renée and Annelise.” Nikki held on to the smile until he’d gotten back in his car and backed out of the drive. Only when she’d closed the door behind her did she allow herself to cry. The sound of her misery echoed through the empty house as she climbed the stairs and threw herself on the rumpled bed, pitiful and alone.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  The boxes that sat piled on and around the conference room table at Franklin Realty reeked of the past. The young handyman who helped out on the rental properties they managed had hauled them down from the office attic, where they’d been stored since the Sunshine Hotel had closed. For the last few hours Renée and Annelise had been working their way through them in anticipation of Agent Giraldi’s visit. Each time Renée opened one she was greeted with a none-too-subtle whiff of eau de mildew and a peek into memories she’d spent a good part of her life trying to forget.

  “Oh, look at this.” Annelise held up a dinner menu from a long-ago New Year’s Eve. “It’s from the costume party Nana planned that year. I remember because Mama let me stay up late enough to watch everyone arrive so that I could see the costumes. Isn’t that Mrs. Zinberg dressed like the Unsinkable Molly Brown?”

  Renée reached out for the photo. “Yes, I think Mr. Zinberg came as her millionaire miner husband.”

  “And here’s Nana as Fanny Brice. Remember how she made Pop Pop dress like Ziegfeld?”

  Their Nana had been a force. A “people person” who never knew a stranger, she’d been the beating heart and welcoming hostess who made sure everyone felt included. She had known every winter guest by name as well as their children’s and their grandchildren’s. Renée had mistakenly believed that it was their grandmother who had run things until their grandfather, a kind, quiet, and gentle man, died. Overnight, Nana had seemed to shrink in size; her brilliance dimmed like a star that had lost its solar system.

  “The fashion shows are in here.” Annelise pulled out two shoeboxes filled with small black-and-white photos. “This is from the first time she let me model.” The photo was of the two of them—Renée with her shoulders back and looking far too self-important in a sundress covered in large poppies. Annelise, who wore saddle shoes and a bright pink poodle skirt, held her hand tightly. “I remember Daddy promised me a Hershey bar if I didn’t get the outfit dirty.”

  Convinced that although the guests should be treated like family, they could not be allowed to grow bored, Nana had planned each day with meticulous care. There had been ice cream socials, beach volleyball, and water skiing for teenagers. The fashion shows had been a part of card luncheons for the mothers—with guests modeling fashions from a local boutique. Overnight slumber parties once a month had allowed the parents who brought their children with them to have a “date night.” Renée and her girlfriends had made money babysitting and running arts and crafts classes for the younger children.

  For the families there were sand-castle-building competitions, weekly sing-alongs and shell hunts as well as relay races and flag football. The goal had been to provide a fun-filled experience fit for all ages, and it worked. Families had standing reservations each winter, favorite cottages that they thought of as “theirs.” In the summer a slightly different version of family fun was planned for the local members.

  “Here’s a stack of boxes labeled ‘Guest Registers.’” Renée reached for the top box, which was labeled with a number one. “I’ll go through these. Are you doing okay with the photos?”

  Annelise nodded. She’d been quiet but present in a way that Renée was afraid to count or comment on. “Do you think we’re just wasting our time on all of this?”

  “I don’t know,” Renée said truthfully. “None of this pertains to Ilse’s past and
it doesn’t look like we’re going to find anything Joe would consider helpful, but it can’t hurt to organize and consolidate.” The center of the table had been divided into piles: one for photographs they wanted to keep, one for hotel history and paperwork, others for family and guests, and even one for those things that defied classification. Precious little had gone into the trashcans she’d placed within reach.

  Renée opened the box and extracted the first leather-bound register. It smelled its age and was far from pristine, the binding broken in from use, the wine-colored leather scratched and stained. The writing had faded but was still legible. The first entry was January 1, 1942. “God, it begins with the very first guests.”

  Annelise smiled. “Before I was even born.”

  An ache of loss flooded through her at the sight of her grandmother’s handwriting. Nana had been mother and grandmother all rolled into one. When Renée’s father had been in Germany during the war, Nana and Pop Pop had done their best to fill the void. Renée read through the first months, amused at the notes and comments her grandmother had recorded along, it seemed, with her observations about life in general. It was a good thing their guests had not been privy to some of Nana’s drier, less charitable entries. “Well, now we know how Nana had such a good memory.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Renée turned the register toward her. “Look at this. She not only registered each family with the dates of their stay and so on. She made notes about them.”

  Pop Pop had kept the accounting and bankbooks. Nana had apparently used the guest registers to record what she thought mattered most. For forty-plus years until Nana, who had struggled on alone for five years after Pop Pop died, finally closed the hotel in 1984, she had written notes and comments about each and every one of their guests.

  Annelise’s laugh was rusty. “She was right about Mrs. Weiner’s pug nose. And Myrna Lipschitz’s cow eyes. But it’s a good thing no one saw her notes about them.” She gave the register back to Renée and then held up a photo. It was a picture of the two of them standing in front of the big glass display window of the Corey Avenue Five and Dime. “Look at this. Do you remember all the time we spent there?”