by Wendy Wax
Nicole smiled. “It so is.”
Kyra came out with a tall glass of juice and her video camera. They’d settled into their seats and poured glasses of wine by the time Avery came up from the beach. She made a face when she saw the small bowls of condiments and the fancy cocktail napkins beside them, but continued on into the kitchen without comment, coming back with a warehouse-sized bag of Cheez Doodles.
They ate and drank and watched the sun slip lower in the sky while Deirdre entertained them with stories about some of the celebrities she’d worked with. Every time Kyra asked a question Maddie caught her breath, afraid that the next name she was going to hear was Daniel Deranian’s.
She knew that it wouldn’t be long before Kyra’s pregnancy became obvious, but there was still that small, irrational part of her that wanted to believe if they just didn’t talk about it, the problem would somehow cease to exist. She frowned as she realized how closely this resembled Steve’s abdication; there was no real safety dwelling in the land of denial.
Everyone fell silent as the sun brightened and glowed before beginning its slide toward the water. The whine of the saw ceased and Chase came out of the garage, mopping his face with his T-shirt. Muscles rippled beneath his darkly tanned skin; his abs could have been cut from steel. Only Avery kept her gaze on the Gulf as he walked toward them. Until his hand snaked down into her bag of Cheez Doodles.
“Hey!” she said.
“Mind if I join you?” He popped the Cheez Doodle into his mouth and munched contentedly.
“Of course not,” Maddie said before Avery could object. “There’s a six-pack in the fridge. I’m pretty sure it’s got your name on it.”
“Thanks.” He reached down into Avery’s bag of Cheez Doodles again and snagged a whole handful before heading inside.
“These don’t have your name on them,” she called after him, closing the bag against further encroachment. “Did you really have to invite him, Maddie?” she asked. “Between the caviar and the crowd, it’s turning into a damned cocktail party. I’d rather have one of Nikki’s frozen drinks.”
“My, someone’s grumpy this evening.” Deirdre sipped her wine and reached for another canapé.
Avery tensed. Maddie put a hand on her arm to hold her back. “It’s just one sunset. We have a whole summerful ahead of us.”
Avery sniffed. “If he even looks like he’s getting ready to call me Vanna, he’s going to be wearing this bag of Doodles.”
“He called you Vanna?” Deirdre smiled. “Really?”
Avery’s hands tightened on the Cheez Doodle bag, making it crackle. “You know, you never said how you happened to have your summer free to join us.”
Deirdre turned from the view to face her daughter. “Trent told me what was going on and I made the time because I thought you might need my help.”
“Next time call me first so I can tell you no.”
Chase came out with his beer and a kitchen chair. Deirdre scooted over to make room for him.
Maddie wasn’t sure how much Avery enjoyed the rest of the sunset; she seemed to be fuming through most of it. When the sun had completed its disappearing act, Maddie raised her glass. After explaining their “one good thing” tradition to Deirdre and Chase, she said, “I’m grateful that I didn’t break a single pane of glass today.” Maddie took a small sip. “Of course, it figures I’m finally getting the hang of glazing now that the end is in sight.”
“I’m grateful for tonight’s caviar,” Nicole said. “I’d almost forgotten how much I like it.”
Maddie noticed that Kyra had her camera out and was, once again, recording them.
“Well, I’m grateful for Cheez Doodles,” Avery said belligerently. “Because a life without Cheez Doodles is hardly worth living. Caviar is only fish eggs with a fancy name.”
They looked at Deirdre, who hesitated slightly before saying, “I’m grateful to have this chance to be with my daughter and to work on Bella Flora. I’d gotten kind of tired of all the glitz.”
Avery snorted but remained silent, and Maddie found herself wondering how both of their mother-daughter scenarios would play out over the summer. Physical togetherness was one thing; the emotional kind could be so much more elusive. Everyone turned to Chase.
“Do I get to play?”
“It’s not a game,” Avery said. “And no, I don’t think you deserve . . .”
“I’m grateful that I’m only a bit player in the YouTube videos about the renovation someone’s been posting, because they aren’t the most flattering things I’ve ever seen,” he said before she could finish.
Avery’s mouth snapped shut. Kyra went very still, her camera blocking the expression on her face.
There was a long silence and it wasn’t the reverent kind that sometimes fell as they watched a spectacular sunset.
“What did you say?” Nicole looked up from the toast point piled with caviar that had been on its way to her mouth.
Madeline’s hand went to her hair, which she rarely bothered with anymore. She didn’t have to look down to know just how bedraggled she probably appeared.
Chase’s lips tilted upward. “I said someone’s been posting videos to YouTube. Along with a pretty scathing commentary. The boys showed them to me. There’ve been two so far.” He finished off his beer and tilted it toward Kyra. “I guess we should all be grateful that we’ve only gotten about ten thousand views. So far.”
Avery arranged the master bath fixtures in a cardboard box and carefully listed the contents, then handed the pair of curved legs that had supported the sink toward Nicole. “Do you mind driving? I think your car will make a better impression than mine where we’re headed.”
“Okay.” Nicole slung her purse over one shoulder and cradled the sink supports in her arms. “Where exactly are we going?”
Avery cut her gaze toward Chase, who was huddled with the carpenter he’d brought in to replace the missing balusters for the front stairs. “I’d rather not say right now.”
Nicole shrugged. They’d made it to the open front door and were about to slip outside when Deirdre’s voice reached them from the landing. “Whom can I ask to help set up the furniture I’m having delivered today? I’ve organized a few pieces for the master bedroom, so that I can give you your mattress and your privacy back. I mean it’s bad enough with all of us in the one bathroom.”
Robby, who had poked his head out of the downstairs guest bath, retracted it much like a turtle might pull back into its shell. Chase and the carpenter looked up.
Damn. Her escape thwarted, Avery turned to face her mother. “If you’re not happy with the accommodations, please feel free to check into a motel. Cottage Inn is next door. The Don is just down the road. A hotel in another city would be even better.”
“Now, darling, you know I’m committed to helping you here. And I know we don’t want to put in too much furniture before the upstairs floors are refinished, but there’s no reason for us to double up if we don’t have to.” As always, Deirdre managed to make whatever she wanted sound as if it benefitted others.
“Nicole and I will be gone for most of the morning. Maddie and Kyra have an appointment. I believe Chase has to check in on another job. Unless you’re planning to wander down the road looking for random muscle, that leaves you.”
Deirdre’s eyes widened in surprise.
“There are no supervisory positions available on this job, Deirdre. No opening for ‘queen.’ We’re all worker bees.” She was aware of Chase and the carpenter’s attention shifting to the conversation. “Or as Chase prefers to put it, ‘monkeys.’ You wanted in on this project and you’re in. Maybe you can get Chase or Robby to hang around until the furniture arrives given your advanced age and all.” She let that one sink in. “Or you can do it yourself. My concern is having this house ready and on the market by Labor Day, not where or how you sleep. Or how much you might have to shlep.”
Something she didn’t recognize flashed across Deirdre’s face before she turned an
d went back into the bedroom. If it had been anyone but Deirdre, Avery would have apologized. Her feelings simmered so close to the surface lately that she sometimes erupted without warning, a Mount Vesuvius of pent-up emotion.
Right now, she just wanted to get out of here before Chase noticed the box of chrome or the sink supports in Nicole’s arms.
“I wondered who had stripped the chrome out of the master bath,” he said before they’d made their dash to freedom. “Where in the world are you taking them?” He asked this as if she’d removed them for the hell of it and was even now planning to do something stupid with them.
She didn’t want to tell him what she had in mind because he was bound to give her a hard time or laugh at her or both—responses guaranteed to set her tectonic plates in motion. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out,” she blurted. The only thing missing from the childish response was the singsong “nah-nah-nah-nah-nah.” Never had an open doorway seemed so close and yet so far.
“The last time you said that to me you were what, ten?” Chase came closer. Presumably so that he could tower over her.
“Look,” she said, reining in the automatic retort that sprang to her lips, “I’ve found a place I think can handle the re-chroming and I’m taking a sample there. End of discussion.” She tried, once again, to clamp down on her automatic urge to argue with him, but the need to wipe the dismissive look off of his face won out. “Is there something in the contractor’s handbook that says the contractor is the only one allowed to have a thought or idea?”
His eyes began to narrow. This, she now knew, precipitated increasingly terse replies.
“You know, if you toned down the sarcasm just a little, we might actually make it through a conversation without fighting.” His words were clipped and angry. Some might call them terse.
“And if you didn’t question every little suggestion I made and treat me like a complete imbecile in the process, sarcasm wouldn’t be required,” she said.
They were staring at each other in frustrated silence when Kyra came down the stairs, her video camera aimed right at them.
“Shit,” Nicole said. “I’ll be in the car.” She took the box from Avery and balanced the chrome legs on top of it. “I can’t be on YouTube right now. My lipstick’s all worn off.”
“Kyra, do you have to point that camera at Chase and me every time we disagree?” Avery asked, trying to hold on to her temper.
“Sorry. But it’s kind of hard to find a time when you’re not doing that.”
“She has a point,” Chase said.
“Besides, I’m just documenting the process like you all asked me to,” Kyra said. “I think the exposure could help when it comes time to put Bella Flora on the market.”
“All we were really looking for were before and after shots, Kyra,” Avery said. “I seriously doubt our target buyer is checking out real estate on YouTube.”
“Everybody watches YouTube,” Kyra said.
“Well, everybody doesn’t need to be yucking it up at our expense. If you’re planning to keep posting, you need to drop the snarky commentary and make it a little bit more about the house and a lot less about us,” Avery said. “And you,” she said to Chase. “I’ll let you know how the re-chroming goes.”
Satisfied, she walked out through the open front door before either of them could respond. She hadn’t exactly asked and he hadn’t really yelled. Perhaps, Avery thought as she retrieved her portable GPS and slid into the passenger seat of Nicole’s Jag, that was progress of some kind.
“I can’t believe she put us on YouTube without telling us.” Nikki had wound a white scarf around her auburn hair and put on an oversized pair of designer sunglasses. In the classic convertible, she might have been an old-time Hollywood starlet. “I look like shit on those videos. Inept and sweat-soaked are not the images I’m looking to project.”
“No kidding.” Avery sank lower in the leather seat. “I’m not exactly wild about appearing without a hair and makeup person. And frankly I’ve had enough of looking like a fool in front of a national audience to last a lifetime.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Nikki said as they headed off the beach. And then, “Speaking of arguing, what’s going on with you and your mother?”
“Nothing,” Avery said. “And that’s the way I’d like to keep it.”
“You’re not planning to accept her apology?” Nicole asked. The ends of the white scarf streamed behind her adding yet another whiff of glamour. As if she needed one.
“I haven’t heard an apology,” Avery said. “I’ve heard an offer to decorate. Those are not the same things.”
They rode in silence for a while traveling farther inland. Retail stores and restaurants multiplied, then grew sparse again as they moved into a more industrial area. The air remained warm but was no longer salt-tinged.
“Hardly anyone gets through life without being hurt or hurting others,” Nicole said, driving past a storage facility and several commercial warehouses. The Jag jounced over a railroad track.
“Yes, well, that’s easy to say when you’ve lived the charmed life you have—running around fixing up famous rich people.” Avery was on a rant now, not even pausing to let Nicole respond. “When I hear an ‘I’m sorry I abandoned you and ignored you for over a decade’ from Deirdre followed by an explanation that doesn’t reek of total selfishness, I’ll decide whether the apology should be accepted.” Avery didn’t want to think about how long she’d hoped for this very thing or how long ago she’d given up on it. “Maybe Hallmark will come up with a card to that effect and she can slip it under my bedroom door.”
They drove in silence for a time. At the GPS’s insistence, Nicole pulled into the parking lot of a former filling station. Several vintage cars sat behind a chain-link fence, but the doors to the service bay and office stood open. A rusty metal sign proclaimed that they had arrived at Alfred’s Auto Body Shop. Beneath it were scrawled the words Home of the King of Chrome.
Nikki turned off the engine and contemplated the sign. “What are we doing here?”
“I hope we’re going to get the bathroom fixtures re-chromed.”
“Does Alfred know that?”
“Not exactly,” Avery conceded as they climbed out of the Jag.
Nicole removed the scarf and dropped it in the driver’s seat. “Do they even do that here?”
“I’m not sure,” Avery replied. “But I don’t know why they couldn’t.”
They looked up and saw a tall gangly man with pale white skin and the name Alfred stitched across the pocket of his splotched work shirt. A shock of faded red hair fell over one eye, and he tugged at the waistband of his ancient work pants, which hung so low on his nonexistent hips that Avery couldn’t help wondering how they stayed up.
The stark metallic smell of chemicals preceded him as he sauntered closer. “Nice ride,” he said with admiration. “Don’t see too many of those around here. It’s a V12 ’74 XKE, isn’t it?”
“You’ve got a good eye.” Nicole smiled at him. “And my friend and I here are hoping you have the right equipment.”
“Oh, Lord, I hope so,” he said fervently, and Avery knew she’d been right to ask Nikki to accompany her. “Car looks in mighty fine shape. Love that butterscotch interior. And if you don’t mind my sayin’ so, so do you two.” His look turned quizzical. “You sure you’re in the right place?”
Avery retrieved the two legs and the box of fixtures from the Jag’s trunk and carried them to Alfred. “We hope so.”
He stared down into the box, then reached in and pulled out a handle. “But this is bathroom stuff.” He considered the multi-spoked knob before placing it back with the other parts. “I restore cars.”
“But it’s chrome,” Avery pointed out helpfully. “Good vintage chrome. From a really cool house built in the 1920s. It should be the same process as dipping rims and bumpers, shouldn’t it?”
“Well . . .” Alfred looked unconvinced. Apparently bathroom faucets didn
’t float his boat in quite the same way as classic car rims.
“Maybe you could show us your operation.” Nicole stepped forward and linked Alfred’s bony, freckled arm through hers. Avery admired the fact that she didn’t wince or react to the chemical cologne that wafted off of him.
Nikki pointed at the sign that stretched over the entrance. “I’m sure the King of Chrome should be able to handle something a little out of the ordinary.”
Avery followed them into the office and then into the old service station where Alfred’s cologne had originated. Even though the big bay door was wide open, she still had to swallow carefully and keep her breathing shallow. Setting the cardboard box down on a workbench, she and Nicole toured the various-sized vats of solution and listened intently as the king described the stripping, dipping, and buffing process. Nikki subtly stroked his vanity while Avery asked the technical questions. When she was satisfied that he could and would re-chrome the fixtures she asked for an estimate and was careful not to blink when he named the small fortune he would charge them. Nor did she react to the fact that it could be several weeks before he’d have this first batch done.
But that might have been because their eyes were already slitted against the harsh sting of the chemicals and the whole lack-of-breathing thing. Or because Avery couldn’t think of any other alternative and wasn’t about to replace all this great stuff with reproductions.
Clutching a claim form and written estimate, Avery and Nicole exited into the parking lot where they drew great gulps of sunshine and air into their lungs.
“You were awesome!” Avery said when they’d left the body shop behind. “You handled the King of Chrome perfectly.”
They did an exaggerated high five, and Nicole laughed freely, something Avery realized she hadn’t heard before. “You’re hereby elected to pick up the finished pieces and deliver the next set. If anyone can get us a better price, it’s you.”
Avery tilted her head back against the leather headrest, enjoying the play of sunshine and fresh air on her cheeks as she thought about Nicole’s manner with Alfred. Nikki was extremely attractive, but she didn’t use her looks overtly, they were just part of her package. And she didn’t play the helpless female; Avery couldn’t imagine anyone forcing Nikki into the Vanna role that Avery had been relegated to on Hammer and Nail. But she wasn’t a battering ram, either. Her persuasive skills seemed to work equally well on the high-net-worth individuals who were her clients as well as the more blue-collar variety.
