by Wendy Wax
Renée, John, and Annelise stood near the ribbon-wrapped glass doors of the main building in what had turned into an impromptu receiving line.
“I can’t believe how many original guests have family members here today,” Renée said as she accepted a hug from Sheila Rosenzweig, who’d been a small child when she’d first come with her parents, and who’d arrived with two of her six grandchildren. Fran Lebow chatted with Jan Rothstein’s grandson. Myra Shonenbaum had only heard about the Sunshine Hotel; she and her husband had come to see it for themselves.
“Wait until they get to go inside,” Annelise said. “I love the photo wall Ray created. And the soda fountain is just the way I remember it.” Her sister’s face had filled out in the last months and her smile had become more ready. Every once in a while the fanciful child she’d once been shone clearly in her eyes.
“I hope we have enough ice cream sandwiches,” Renée said, noting the vintage ice cream coolers that Ray had tracked down and borrowed for the occasion.
“We have enough ice cream sandwiches and Good Humor bars to feed every family in Florida for a year,” John teased, but he, too, had thrown himself into the details of this party. All three of them had been a part of the phone tree Maddie and Nikki had organized, and had called many of the invited guests personally.
“The grounds look beautiful,” Carol Franks said.
“I know that’s your doing,” her sister Margie said. “You always did have a green thumb.”
Renée flushed with satisfaction. Months of pruning, paring, and transplanting had tamed the chaos into a lush tropical paradise. Guests followed hibiscus-lined paths accented with birds-of-paradise and frangipani, which wound through the brightly painted cottage shells where Franklin Realty associates stood ready to explain the time-share and ownership options. A long line of excited guests stood in line reading brochures and studying renderings while they waited to be escorted to Nikki, who was the “keeper of the contracts” and sat at a shaded table on the covered patio that bracketed the main building. Joe Giraldi stood talking with Officer Jackson nearby.
“Are you ready?” Maddie escorted Annelise and Renée to the double glass door and handed them a large ceremonial scissor. Troy and Kyra shot video and stills as they cut the ceremonial ribbon and led the way inside what was now a high-ceilinged light-filled space.
Avery joined the group, eager to hear their reactions.
“Oh, my gosh, it’s so perfect.”
“Just like I remember, only better.”
“Oh, look at the photos. I think that’s my grandmother!”
“I can’t believe they still have the old keys. We always stayed in the Happy Crab.”
The guests hurried across the newly refurbished sand-colored terrazzo with its blue and black bits that stood out in the sunlight now streaming into the room through south- and west-facing glass walls. They exclaimed over the card and game tables and pulled levers on the vintage pinball machines. Others were drawn to the seating areas that broke up the long space. They dropped down on the clean-lined sofas and love seats and admired the reproduction free-form Noguchi tables, and Arne Jacobsen–style Egg chairs, which had been upholstered in brightly colored fabrics designed to hold up under damp bathing suits and tracked-in sand.
The doors to the locker room halls stood open so that they could check out the newly refurbished wood lockers, benches, and tiled showers. Others made a beeline for the dining room with its floor-to-ceiling glass walls and bright white Saarinen–style Tulip tables and chairs.
“If you get any closer you’re going to trip someone,” Chase said.
“Shhh,” Avery said, glowing as one man lifted his young daughter onto his “favorite” stool at the soda fountain and asked if she wanted to try an ice cream sundae with a cherry on top.
“At least I’m not flirting like your father.” She nodded toward the photo wall that Ray had covered with black-and-white candids of the Handleman family and their guests. Jeff Hardin leaned on his walker as Annelise pointed to a shot of herself atop her father’s shoulders at three or four years of age.
Chase smiled and puffed out his chest. “Hey, we Hardins are known for our charm.”
“And your modesty,” she said as Ray walked up to join them.
“Great job on the interiors,” Chase said, clapping the designer on the back.
“It’s great,” Avery agreed, her smile slipping just a bit. “I wish Deirdre could have been a part of this.”
“In a way she is,” Ray said. “I don’t think I mentioned this before. I never could figure out exactly how to bring it up. But I learned a lot of what I know from her just like you did.”
“You knew Deirdre?” She thought at first she hadn’t heard him right.
“Back when I came out and my family couldn’t quite deal with it, I ran away to Hollywood. You know, to be a designer to the stars.”
Avery watched his face. “At least you didn’t leave a husband and child behind.” The hurt was still there, not completely dislodged by the reconciliation with her long-absent mother.
“No. I was an eighteen-year-old with a lot of dreams and almost no training. I met her when I was parking cars at a private party.” He looked around at the chattering people, the space they’d created. “She taught me, Avery. And she mothered me as best she could, which we both know was not her strength. But she talked about you all the time. She had such regret for leaving you. I know she took me in in part to atone for leaving you. She saved my life, Avery. And you remind me of her. In all the best possible ways.”
“Oh, crap,” she muttered as her eyes teared up. “Don’t you dare make me cry right now.”
“I know you’d never do that,” he said, swiping at his own eyes. “After all, everyone knows there’s no crying in construction.”
There might not be crying in construction, but there was definitely sweating. Which was what Nikki was doing at that very moment. Despite the balmy seventy-four degrees, the shaded table at which she was seated, and the glasses of ice water that Joe Giraldi kept pushing on her, Nikki’s personal thermometer seemed stuck on high and didn’t seem like it had any intention of coming down.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You look . . .” Joe began.
“Don’t say it. It’s not polite to point out that a woman is sweating.” She picked up a brochure and fanned her face. She’d pinned up her hair and wore the skimpiest clothing a woman who was five months pregnant could possibly leave the house in, and still she was overheated.
“Believe me, I learned that lesson the hard way.” Only last week he had made the mistake of suggesting she might want to stop coloring her hair in case the dye adversely affected the babies. “You’ve got to keep drinking liquids, Nikki. All the manuals say so.”
“Go away,” she said. He’d been hovering nearby through the entire party, though he’d tried to pretend otherwise. “I’m working.”
“Drink up.” He pushed the fresh glass of ice water closer. “Then you can file this paperwork.” He set a completed contract in front of her.
“Why would you buy a two-bedroom cottage here? You already have a house.”
At his look she took one sip of the water and no more. If she drank another ounce she was going to have to pee again.
“I’m going to be working out of the Tampa office for a while,” he said smoothly. “And so I thought it might be a good idea to own something locally.”
“What?” Her eyes flashed but even she wasn’t sure why. “Why in the . . . ?”
“Look, I know you don’t want to get married,” he said quickly, his eyes pinned to her face. “So why don’t we just go ahead and take that option off the table right now.”
“Oh. Okay.” She tried to look relieved. “Good.”
“I figure we can worry about that down the road if either of us ever want to. The main thing is the babies, righ
t?”
“Right.” Off the table?
“Nonna Sofia did suggest a shotgun wedding,” he said, still watching her. “But I told her I’m not allowed to threaten people with a firearm when I’m not on duty.”
“Right,” she said again. “Absolutely. No one would want to be forced into a marriage. Just because they were going to be a parent or . . . anything.” She dropped her eyes to the paperwork. He was committing $200,000 plus for a two-bedroom unit with all the upgrades. But he’d decided he no longer needed to commit to her.
“Things are going great and I want to be here with you and our children.” He gave her a blinding smile. “But you were right. There’s no reason we have to be married when we can just enjoy each other and be hands-on parents together.”
“Right.” She searched for a smile but knew the one she came up with was nowhere near as blinding as his. She nodded her head, though, and tried to look satisfied. He was giving her the space she’d said she wanted while being supportive. She looked up and thought she saw a glint of humor steal into his dark eyes. But no, she had to be imagining that. “Lots of people have babies without getting married,” she agreed. The man had finally given her what she’d asked for. It wasn’t as if she could complain about it.
It was late by the time Maddie was able to make her way back to the stage area. She was tired, but happy. The party had far exceeded all of their expectations. Bitsy made room for her near the edge of the stage as Will struck a final chord, brought the last set to an end, and thanked the audience. Handing off his guitar, he stepped away from the microphone and shot Maddie a wink. As he began to move toward her the crowd of women surged forward and surrounded him. Soon the only part of him that was visible was the top of his dark head.
Her response was visceral and immediate. She wanted to walk over there and pull those women off of him. Wanted to stake her claim and assert her “rights.” But these women, these fans, were a part of what he did. He’d told her repeatedly that they didn’t tempt him and that she was what he wanted. Somehow at some point she was going to have to find a way to believe it. In the periphery a digital flash went off; someone with a profile that reminded her of Nigel Bracken appeared off near the pool bar.
Steve materialized beside her. He was standing too close, but his attention was fixed on Will, who had left the last of his admirers behind and was moving toward her.
“You don’t deserve her!” Steve shouted as Will drew near. His tone was belligerent, his manner oddly menacing.
“What in the world are you doing?” she hissed at Steve.
William kept moving toward her, his dark eyes intent, his skin burnished by the sun. His body appeared loose and languid but when he came to a stop in front of her, she could feel that post-performance energy coming off him. There was something else there, too, something she couldn’t quite identify. Without acknowledging Steve or even speaking, Will leaned down to kiss her. Despite the crowd and her ex-husband glowering beside her, she ultimately succumbed to the feel of Will’s lips moving on hers. Vaguely she became aware of someone tapping on Will’s shoulder. People around them murmured.
“It’s okay, Maddie,” Will breathed quietly. “Not sure if anyone told you but . . .”
Another tap, harder this time. Will straightened and turned. Bitsy gasped.
“What do you think you’re doing with my wife?” Steve’s voice was loud and harsh. Maddie’s eyes flew open. There were screams. Bitsy’s was loud and shrill in her ear. Digital flashes went off.
“Oh, no! Will!” Maddie shouted. “Look out!”
Will turned to look at her just as Steve’s fist connected with his cheek. William swayed slightly. After a few almost ballet-like steps, he crumpled to the ground at her feet.
“Out of my way, luv!” The voice was Nigel Bracken’s. “Step aside. That was bloody brilliant!”
The potato-faced pap named Bill charged forward beside the Englishman. Their cameras fired in a cacophonous burst as they captured the tableau of Steve Singer glaring down at the prone form of William Hightower with Maddie standing in openmouthed shock behind them.
Maddie was no longer shocked several hours later as she left the hotel with Will’s arm around her. But she was irritated.
“That was quite a show you all put on there.” John Franklin chuckled as he, Renée, and Annelise walked with them to their cars. “You definitely put the Sunshine Hotel and Beach Club back on the map.”
“And hopefully the cast of the program formerly known as Do Over, too,” Troy said.
“I’m only sorry I missed it,” Renée said. “But I think it was best that we had all the children gathered to watch the magician inside.”
“It was quite a show, all right,” Avery agreed with a yawn. Chase and Jeff had left earlier with Bitsy right behind them. A car waited nearby to take Will to join his bandmates for a flight to Nashville.
“That felt incredible,” Steve said, flexing his fingers. “I may have hurt my hand a little, though.” Dustin slept soundly on his shoulder.
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t feel too bad about that,” Will said drily, exploring the bruise on the side of his face with tentative fingers. “You may have won the toss but you were supposed to pull your punch. It’s a good thing it didn’t land a couple inches over. I happen to know from experience it’s kind of hard to sing with a broken jaw.”
“Sorry.” Clearly Steve wasn’t. “I guess I got a little carried away.”
Joe Giraldi snorted. “J. J. debated arresting both of you. He thought it might get more attention. It took a while to talk him out of it.”
“Am I the only person who didn’t know what was going to happen?” Maddie asked tightly.
“No,” Kyra said. “Because if I’d known the paparazzi had been invited to witness that charade, I would have put a halt to it.”
“We were just trying to help, kitten,” Steve said, looking extremely pleased with himself.
“I’ve told you all along that you need them if you’re going to have a successful program of any kind,” Troy said.
“It was actually Daniel who came up with the idea and reached out to Nigel,” Steve said.
“Yeah.” Troy sounded less than happy about this.
“I hate the hell out of it,” Will agreed. “But it’s a sad fact of life.”
“Good night, all.” Joe walked Nikki to the Jag and leaned in to kiss her good-bye, then left in his own car.
“I’ll miss you, Maddie-fan,” William whispered in her ear. His kiss was hot and sweet. She wished as she so often did that he didn’t have to leave. “I would have liked a little warning,” she said, keeping her tone light. “But thanks for taking one for the team.”
When the car disappeared into the darkness, she climbed into the minivan and back into her real life, the one that included her grown daughter, her sleeping grandson, and her ex-husband at the wheel.
It was way beyond sunset. In fact midnight was long past when Maddie pulled a robe on over her nightgown and wandered outside. The moon was full and round and bright. Its light shimmered on the smooth surface of the bay and reflected itself in Bella Flora’s back windows as if they were mirrors. The night was still, the air fresh and clean. The silence was broken only by the occasional jump of a fish or the croak of a frog.
She wrapped her robe more tightly around her and took a seat at the wrought-iron table, pulling her bare legs up beneath her. A door creaked and someone stepped outside. “Mom?” Kyra’s voice asked tentatively.
“I’m over here,” Maddie whispered back. “Trouble sleeping?”
“Yeah.” Kyra came to sit beside her. She wore an ancient fuzzy pink robe and slippers that her brother had given her one long-ago Christmas. “You, too, huh?”
“I was thinking about opening a bottle of wine but I was too lazy.”
The door creaked open again. “Hey, who’s out
here?” Avery asked. “Oh, hold on.” She came and put an open bottle of wine and a glass on the table. “I’ll grab a couple more glasses.”
“What’s on your mind?” Maddie asked when she and Kyra were alone.
“I was just thinking that we can’t really afford to wait around and see what happens before the lawsuit is resolved. I was thinking we might already have enough footage to cut together a one-hour special on the Sunshine Hotel and Beach Club’s history and reinvention. It wouldn’t be part of Do Over and we might be able to sell it to HGTV. I do have to pay back the money that I borrowed. And while tonight went well, we don’t know how many people will join the club or purchase time-shares.”
“I thought that money came from Daniel,” Maddie said, searching Kyra’s face.
“Mostly,” Kyra said, not meeting Maddie’s eye, which was never a good thing. “Besides, I’ll go crazy if I’m not shooting or editing something.”
“I know the feeling,” Avery said, returning with the glasses in time to hear Kyra’s last comment. “We’ve only just finished part of the hotel and I feel like we need to find a new project.” She took a long sip of wine. “Did you know that Ray was a protégé of Deirdre’s?”
“I may have known something of the kind.” It was Maddie’s turn to shift uncomfortably in her seat. She had to force herself to meet Avery’s eyes. “I just felt that he was the perfect choice and I was afraid you’d reject him if you knew. I’m sorry. Given how much I hated being left out of the loop about Will and Steve’s faux fight, I wish I’d told you.”
“Nah, you were right,” Avery said. “I would have sent him packing. And he did a really great job.”
