by Wendy Wax
“I’m glad we’re here,” Maddie said, relieved to have a chance to unburden herself. “I want to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I had no right to give Avery all that unasked-for advice in public. And I definitely shouldn’t have done it in front of Troy and Anthony.”
“No,” Avery said. “I called this meeting, I hauled your asses out of bed, and I get to apologize first.” She took a long drag on her second coffee. Madeline wouldn’t have been surprised to hear the caffeine zinging through Avery’s veins.
“So first I want to apologize to Deirdre for being so stingy with my praise.” Avery turned to face her mother. “The kitchen looks great. Everything you’ve done in the house has been first rate. Given our…history, sometimes I have a hard time acknowledging your achievements.”
Avery nodded curtly to signal that the apology was over. Clearly she wasn’t planning to throw herself into Deirdre’s arms and tell her that she loved her.
Deirdre looked more than satisfied with the apology. Who knew, perhaps there was a place for motherhood tutoring after all. The way things were going, maybe Maddie herself needed to take a refresher course.
“I also want to apologize to everyone for starting all that in front of Troy and Anthony,” Avery continued. “I hate that they got us arguing on video. I know how easy it is to twist things around and make it look like we’re at each other’s throats all the time.”
She took another sip and the second cup joined the first in its sand cup holder.
“That wasn’t your fault,” Maddie said. “I was really out of line. I know you felt attacked, which was so not my intent. I mean, I did want you to think a little bit more about Deirdre’s efforts to establish a relationship, but I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that in front of everyone. And especially not in front of the film crew.” She could feel herself blathering on now, twisting her coffee cup in her hands, unable to stop. She ended the apology in a rush and fell silent.
“Great,” Avery said. “Now that the apologies are over, maybe you can tell us what’s going on.” She was looking directly at Maddie, as were Nicole and Deirdre. Kyra was still looking out over the ocean and jiggling her feet.
The sun inched upward. Its glow reflected off the water and bounced back to singe the sky.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Maddie replied, not quite meeting their eyes.
Dustin woke and reached for his bare toes. His gaze was pinned on the emerging ball of sun.
“We’re not buying it,” Avery said. “If ever anyone was not acting like herself, it’s you, Maddie. Give it up.”
“No, really,” Maddie began. She was not remotely ready for this conversation. “Everything’s…”
“Oh, Mom,” Kyra said, unable to bear watching her mother continue to try to protect her. “Everything’s not fine and there’s no point in trying to keep it from them. It impacts them, too.” She turned the stroller and reached inside to retrieve Dustin. He windmilled his arms and kicked his legs happily as she pulled his sturdy warm body out of the stroller and sat him on the blanket next to her.
Now that all eyes were on her, Kyra had a brief thought that this meeting might have gone down easier at the end of the day when everyone was bone tired and there was alcohol to cushion the blow. The relentless clarity of morning left no room for minimizing the seriousness of the situation.
Dustin put one hand on her shoulder and another on Nicole’s. With total concentration and some fairly impressive upper-body strength, he used them to pull himself to his feet. Kyra wrapped one hand around his calf to steady him. And herself. It took everything she had to look everyone in the eye.
“Tonja Kay and Daniel Deranian want custody of Dustin.” Kyra said it straight out, as if a quick announcement might somehow lessen the pain. It didn’t.
“What?” Avery said.
“But why?” Nicole asked.
“They say they can do more for him than I can—that they can give him more.” Kyra looked away briefly, her gaze drawn by a windsurfer hauling up his sail.
“That’s ridiculous,” Nicole said with an angry shake of her head.
“Believe me,” Avery said. “No one’s better off without their mother.” She said this without the usual accusatory tone.
Kyra watched Deirdre dart a hopeful look at her daughter. She couldn’t bring herself to look at her own mother. “There are things they could afford to do for him that I can’t,” Kyra said, thinking of the way Daniel had positioned his world against hers. “Opportunities I could never provide.”
“What, get him his own personal nanny?” Nicole asked. “Drag his little ass all over the world? Pose him for the cameras?”
“Do you know of any famous children who are especially well adjusted?” Deirdre asked. “I did a ton of celebrity homes while I was working in Hollywood and I didn’t run into too many of them.”
A silence fell as all of them contemplated the idea of Dustin as a part of the Deranian-Kay entourage, something Kyra had been trying her hardest not to do.
“I’ve heard Tonja’s got really strange eating habits,” Avery said. “There’s been a lot of leaks from the household staff lately. That woman’s not just foulmouthed, she’s crazy.”
“She’s also powerful,” Madeline said. “Much as I’d like to, we can’t just dismiss her. The two of them have serious clout.”
The sun cut through a bank of low-lying clouds. Rays of golden light shot through the pale blue sky and skidded across the green-blue surface of the ocean.
Kyra looked at her mother. She did not want to have to explain how serious that clout was. How easily it could destroy them all. Once again she’d managed to put everyone’s livelihood at risk.
“Tonja’s threatened to get the network to cancel Do Over if I refuse.” Kyra looked away again, then forced herself to meet their eyes. “She says that Lifetime wants a Deranian-Kay family reality show and that the network wants them more than they want us.”
A seagull wheeled overhead, cawing loudly. Dustin looked up, clapped his hands in delight, and went down hard on his bottom. Kyra reached for her son, gathering him in her arms and putting him back on his feet before he could cry. He smelled of sleep and baby shampoo. Less than thirty minutes ago he’d been at her breast, nursing, looking up at her like she was his everything. “Neither Mom or I wants you all to be hurt by this. It’s not fair for you to be penalized because of me and Dustin.” Maintaining eye contact with them at that moment was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do. “I’m so, so sorry.”
No one spoke as everyone tried to absorb the shock waves from the depth charge that had just gone off beneath them.
Kyra felt her mother’s gaze on her in the silence. Maddie had tried to warn her not to give in to wishful thinking, and Kyra had ignored her. If she’d refused to see Daniel, if she’d discouraged him from spending time with Dustin, none of this might have happened.
“Christ,” Nicole said. “We’ve spent more than a year sweating our guts out for this opportunity, and they’re using it as a bargaining chip?”
Kyra watched their faces as they weighed what they knew was the right thing to say with the consequences that were attached to saying it. She felt like shit for putting them in this position, but she was scared too. There was no way she could give up Dustin.
“Well, obviously none of us would ever ask you to give up custody so that we can do a television show,” Avery finally said.
“No, of course, not,” Deirdre agreed, her tone nowhere near as adamant as the nod of her head.
Nicole looked like she wanted to cry. Or beat someone to a pulp. She nodded glumly.
“You shouldn’t have to ask me to do anything,” Kyra said. “I…maybe if I leave the show, if Dustin and I are gone, they’ll have no reason to go after Do Over.” She wasn’t sure what was worse—the fear of losing Dustin or the guilt she felt for what she’d brought down on everyone. “It’s not fair for me to jeopardize the series.”
“Except
that it’s because of you we even have the show,” Avery said, not at all happily.
“No, we need to come up with some way to solve this,” Maddie said. “There must be something we could do.”
“Maybe we could go to Lisa Hogan and try to head them off?” Avery asked.
“No,” Deirdre said. “Not now when we and the show are so vulnerable. If Do Over were already established, it might be different. But—”
“Besides, it might just be a threat,” Nicole said. “Maybe Tonja doesn’t really plan to discuss it with the network. If that’s the case, we don’t want to be the ones to bring it up.”
“I’m so sorry,” Kyra said again. “This shouldn’t be your problem. I’ll think of something. I will.”
Dustin wrapped his arm around Kyra’s neck and blew a raspberry on her cheek just like Troy had taught him. He pulled back and offered his cheek for a return raspberry, but Kyra’s eyes blurred with tears and the raspberry sounded more like air quietly leaving a balloon, lame in the extreme.
“We’ll all think,” Deirdre said. “There has to be a way to get them to back off.”
“In the meantime, maybe you should tell Deranian that you’re willing to consider giving them custody,” Nicole suggested. “You know, just to buy some time until we figure out what to do.”
Kyra nodded slowly, but she didn’t believe that all they needed in order to come up with a winning plan was time. What were the chances of going up against two major celebrities with more money than God and coming out ahead?
The sun continued its ascent. The breeze grew warmer and the clouds began to burn off as the women gathered up their things. They left the beach and walked back to The Millicent in silence. No one mentioned Tonja Kay and Daniel Deranian or the threat they posed. But Kyra could practically hear all of them thinking about it.
Nikki couldn’t stop thinking about Kyra’s sunrise revelation. As she wielded her paintbrush along the corners and edges of the living room walls and later on the upstairs landing, she tried to push the worry aside, tried to tell herself that after all they’d been through they were not going to end up out on the street, but the worry had taken on heft and shape and it refused to budge. She could tell from the lack of jokes and smack talk that typically accompanied the most onerous or boring renovation chores that everyone else’s mind was similarly occupied.
The number of paparazzi on the sidewalk was down to single digits, and by late afternoon she’d managed to convince herself that a dip in the swimming pool with drink in hand would go a long way toward soothing frayed nerves. She stared at the water through an upstairs bedroom window as her arm grew weary from painting, and she imagined the feel of it on her skin, anticipating the buoyant weight of it ebbing around her. She began to imbue it with cleansing properties well beyond the realm of possibility. This kidney-shaped concrete container was not going to wash all their troubles away.
When Avery finally released them for the day, Nikki sprinted to the pool house, put on her bathing suit, and popped open the admittedly cheap bottle of vodka she’d purchased during their lunch break. After assembling the alcohol, orange juice, and glasses on a tray, she carried it to the pool, set it and her cell phone on one of the new wrought-iron tables, and took the first of what she hoped would be many screwdrivers into the pool with her.
Avery was right behind her, a long T-shirt over her bikini and an industrial-size bag of Cheez Doodles in her hands. Deirdre carried a plate of more dignified appetizers from Epicure while Kyra carried Dustin and a swim ring with a seat built into it; her camera hung over her shoulder.
Maddie came more slowly, her elbow crooked through Max’s, a pile of towels balanced against her chest. Max, who wore what might be the world’s oldest bathing trunks and his captain’s hat, smiled jauntily into the camera lens that remained in front of them as Troy and Anthony walked backward in order to record their tortoiselike progress.
In two long steps Andrew passed them and cannonballed into the deep end of the pool, much to Dustin’s delight.
“I suppose it’s pointless to hope they just keep backing up all the way into the pool,” Kyra said as she carried Dustin into the shallow end and fit him into the swim ring.
Max exchanged Maddie’s arm for the shallow-end handrail. Setting his towel on the side of the pool, he inched his way down the steps and into the water, an unlit cigar in his free hand. “Ahhh.” He sighed blissfully as he bent his knees and dunked his upper body, careful to hold the cigar aloft. “This is the life.” He inserted the cigar into his mouth, reached into the towel on the edge of the pool, and pulled out a tiny replica of his own captain’s hat. With a flourish he placed it on Dustin’s head, tilting it at a jaunty angle. “Here you go.” He smiled around the unlit cigar. “Now you’re officially my second in command.”
“Gax! Gax!” Dustin clapped his hands and laughed when he saw the splash that resulted. Kyra and the Lifetime crew filmed the scene. Even Nikki joined in the collective “awww.”
“Despite the fact that it’s still hours until sunset, I’d like to propose a toast,” Nicole said, raising her glass. “To Avery and Deirdre, for their organization and splendid taste.”
They raised their glasses and drank.
“To Maddie, for feeding and mothering us,” Avery added.
They drank again.
Maddie and Kyra exchanged glances and raised their glasses to the others. “For being there,” Maddie said.
Nicole was grateful that Madeline didn’t bring up the subject they’d discussed on the beach now that she herself was so intent on numbing her brain enough to stop dwelling on it.
“You all are my ‘one good thing.’” Maddie continued looking at each of them in turn. “For that reason—and because it’s nowhere near sunset—I give you special dispensation not to have to come up with a good thing to share today.”
“That’s a good thing right there,” Nicole said fervently, and getting a laugh.
Her phone rang and she beat back a surge of excitement as she moved toward the side of the pool to retrieve it. Giraldi had been out of town for almost three weeks and was due back today or tomorrow. “Can you reach my phone?” she called to Deirdre, who’d gotten out to retrieve the plate of hors d’oeuvres.
“Sure.” Deirdre handed the still-ringing phone to her.
Nicole’s finger was already poised to answer when she saw Amherst’s name on the caller ID. She placed the phone back on the edge of the pool. The calls had tapered off and Amherst had finally stopped leaving messages, but she would be glad when the job at The Millicent was over and she could be completely rid of him. “Sales call,” she said in answer to Deirdre’s raised eyebrow.
Dustin and the guys splashed happily while the women talked. Once Troy and Anthony stopped filming and joined Andrew in the deep end, Avery got rid of the now-sodden T-shirt she’d been hiding behind. The alcohol began to flow more freely.
Nicole, whose thoughts kept straying to Joe Giraldi, felt a definite shiver of anticipation when the phone rang again. Until she realized that it wasn’t hers, but Deirdre’s.
“Hello?” Deirdre pressed the phone close to her ear, listening intently. “Oh.”
She covered the mouthpiece and signaled Nicole, Maddie, and Avery closer. “It’s Madsen Interiors in Chicago,” she said. “They’re calling about the chandelier. I’m going to put them on speakerphone.”
“Ms. Morgan?” The voice was that of a young man, Nikki thought somewhere in his twenties, with a decidedly midwestern accent. “This is Jacob Madsen. I got a message that you called for our father.”
“Yes,” Deirdre said. “Thank you for returning my call.”
“No problem.” He paused before continuing. “Unfortunately, my father’s no longer alive. My sister and I are the only family left in the business.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Deirdre said.
“Thank you. We’re still getting used to being without him. He died a little over a year ago. A car accident.”
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Deirdre murmured additional condolences.
“Thank you,” he said again. “I should be used to talking about it, but it’s still such a shock. Our grandmother, the founder of the firm, was eighty, it was expected. But he was so young—only in his fifties.”
The women looked at one another. It was slightly surreal to be standing in a swimming pool talking to a stranger about an unknown family loss halfway across the country.
“Anyway,” Madsen said, “I understand you were looking for the name of a particular glass artist.”
“Yes,” Deirdre said clearly, relieved to discuss something less personal. “We’re redoing a fabulous house down here in Miami; it’s an Art Deco Streamline that your grandmother worked on back in the late fifties, early sixties. Does that ring a bell?”
“Not really,” he said. “I mean, we all knew Grandmother lived in Miami before she came to Chicago, but she rarely talked about it.”
“Oh.” Deirdre’s disappointment showed on her face. “We’re actually looking for the artist that she commissioned to create a chandelier for the foyer. It’s umbrella-shaped, made of Sabino glass, hangs from a starfish escutcheon and has eight panels—”
“—of sculpted sea creatures?” Madsen finished.
“Yes.” Nicole could see Deirdre’s excitement that Jacob Madsen seemed familiar with The Millicent’s chandelier, but was trying not to get her hopes up. “We’ve got our fingers crossed that the artist is still alive and might be able to re-create two panels that were damaged. Or that he might have something similar that we could hang in its place.”
“It’s a Jonathan Civelli,” Jacob Madsen said without hesitation. “My grandmother was a great admirer and patron of his. His pieces have become very valuable.”
“Oh, then—” Deirdre began.
“But I’m afraid he retired a long time ago. Last I heard he was in a nursing home somewhere in north Florida.”
Deirdre’s face wasn’t the only one that fell. The chandelier had begun to feel like a symbol of The Millicent’s glory days to all of them. “I know the subject matter and style are a little tropical for the Midwest, but do you know if your grandmother might have placed anything similar in another client’s home?”
