Best Beach Ever

by Wendy Wax

  “Which we mostly are.” Kyra grimaced. “I mean, I’d give a whole lot to be able to leave on today’s high note and not come back. But running away isn’t an option.”

  “No, definitely not an option.” Odd that she could say this with such certainty when she herself had bolted just that morning.

  “How long can you stay?” Kyra asked.

  “Well, I thought I’d spend the weekend and then go on to the Sunshine.”

  “When is Will expecting you back?”

  “Thursday,” Maddie said. “He’s really busy working on new material and getting ready for the tour. I just need to be back in time to fly out with him Friday morning like we planned.”

  “What happened?”

  “What do you mean?” Kyra’s look was pointed and Maddie almost missed the teenaged years when Kyra had barely noticed her mother let alone expressed interest in her life. “Clearly something happened.”

  “No, not really. I just . . .” Excuses leapt to her tongue. But she had always tried to be honest with her children. “I was worried about you and Dustin, and I wanted to see for myself that you were all right. But, it just seemed like everyone else had so much to do and I had no sense of direction. I was just kind of killing time.” God, she sounded so pathetic.

  “That’s called relaxing, Mom. Recharging. Doing that on a private island in the Keys? With a rock star? Some people might even go out on a limb and call it a vacation.”

  “Yes, well, I didn’t do as good a job at it as I would have liked.” She offered Kyra’s words back to her hoping she’d let go of the topic Maddie seemed unable to come to terms with. She was fifty-three years old, a grandmother, and she still didn’t know what she wanted to be when she grew up. “Anyway, I’d like to have a couple days back in my own space to prepare for going on the road with Will.” As if anything could prepare one for going on tour with a rock band.

  “Me too. Or at least a couple days in a space owned by someone who loves me and isn’t trying to turn my son into his on-screen Mini-Me.”

  “Are you allowed to leave?” Maddie asked, sitting up and pushing away the tea.

  “Yep. Monday call is seven A.M. And I’m definitely not planning on partying over at the director and producer’s lake house. Or giving them any more bonding time with Dustin before then.” She was already on her feet.

  Maddie looked around for her cell phone. “I haven’t GPSed the drive from here to Pass-a-Grille. But . . .”

  “One hour, twenty-eight minutes,” Kyra replied before Maddie had located her phone. She picked up their iced teas. “It’s four P.M. I can have Dustin, Max, and me in the Jeep in fifteen minutes. Even if we hit rush-hour traffic through Tampa, we could make it home in time for sunset.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Nikki sprinted the final mile back to the Sunshine telling herself that she was not really light-headed, that one thousand calories a day was more than enough for any woman, at least any woman who had been crazy enough to have babies at the age of forty-seven when her metabolism had already slowed to a crawl and clung to each ounce of excess fat like a drowning man might cling to any bit of flotsam.

  The cooling air had turned her sweaty skin clammy, her running clothes were plastered to her body, and her hair hung limp around her face. She was tired and her calf muscles were currently screaming in protest, but she wasn’t in any real hurry to go home, where Luvie would be making everything Nikki sucked at (and child rearing in particular) look like child’s play.

  Just outside the low pink wall that separated the Sunshine’s pool deck from the beach, she bent, put her hands on her knees, and breathed until those breaths stopped impersonating an asthma attack. Then she took her time walking to their cottage. It was possible she held the doorknob in her hand longer than necessary before pushing the door open.

  Luvie was sitting on the couch with the girls, holding the phone up to Gemma and Sofia’s ears. Nikki could tell the voice they were listening to was Joe’s because they were wearing identical smiles and chanting “da-da-da-da-da!” while happily waving their arms.

  She dropped a kiss on each girl’s head and smiled her thanks at Luvie because really, how could she not? The cottage was immaculate, the girls’ dinner already served and cleaned up. The only messy, disorganized thing in sight was Nikki.

  Luvie stood and greeted her warmly. “Mr. Giraldi is on the line. I’ll go along and give the children a bath and pop them into their pajamas so you two can talk.”

  “Thank you.” She took the phone and watched as Luvie, Gemma, and Sofia disappeared into the nursery.

  “Greetings,” she said, walking to the refrigerator to count out the six leaves of lettuce, four baby carrots, three grape tomatoes, and two tablespoons of fat-free dressing that would, with her four ounces of chicken breast, serve as tonight’s dinner. “How did everything go today? Are you almost finished tracking down financial slimeballs and saving democracy?”

  With that she sat at the dinette, put the phone on speaker, and listened as she consumed her meal. Letting the sound of his voice do all the warm, wonderful, fuzzy things it did for Sofia and Gemma.

  * * *

  • • •

  Just down the beach Avery stood inside Martha Wyatt’s tiny house looking out the opening where the double-hung kitchen window would go. Happily, she inhaled the scent of sawdust. A smell that had always clung to her father’s clothes and been the smell of his love, and of security and safety. Especially in the wake of her mother’s desertion.

  Over the last years the scent had become associated with Chase, turning heady and intimate. A scent with aphrodisiac properties they might one day bottle and sell to DIYers.

  “I couldn’t really see it before.” Martha held tightly to the temporary railing as she climbed the two boxy plywood steps where the porch would go. “But now that the spaces are becoming defined . . .” The woman’s smile deepened the lines that radiated from the corner of her eyes, confirming what Avery had suspected; her wrinkles had come from smiling rather than disappointment. “The kitchen’s larger than I expected. And so are my bedroom and bath,” she continued once they were inside. Martha turned to look up at the area that would become the children’s sleeping loft and playroom. “The great-grandkids are already arguing about who gets to sleep over first. I can’t wait until they see the bunkhouse bunk beds Ray sketched out. I’m going to be the most popular great-grandmother ever.”

  Avery smiled at the woman’s pleasure. “I’m guessing you’re already pretty near the top of that list, but I’m so happy that you like the layout and feel good about the space.”

  “Like it? I love it!” She reached a gnarled, age-spotted hand out to take Avery’s. “I did torture them a bit, but I’m so glad Jonathan and Sandra found you. This is such a perfect solution. I’ve been bragging about you to all my friends at book club.” Her soft brown eyes shimmered with tears. “The only thing that would make it better would be if Henry were here. He always did love a new adventure.”

  With Martha’s praise still ringing in her ears, Avery drove over the Vina del Mar Bridge and took a right on Pass-a-Grille Way in no hurry to go back to her own tiny home. Just because it was small didn’t mean there was no room for emptiness. She did not need to fill it with regret or even her own foolish loneliness. Spending a weekend alone with no obligations was not something to dread. Still, she couldn’t stop her thoughts from turning to Chase. She couldn’t believe how much she missed him. How much she wanted to walk him through the tiny house on Vina and see it through his eyes.

  The sun had not yet started to set as she turned onto Thirty-first, and pulled the Mini Cooper into a parking spot. She could take a walk on the beach. Or maybe even have a drink up at the rooftop grill. She was still working on her pep talk when she noticed the beigy gold minivan parked at the curb. A minivan she wasn’t expecting but was beyond relieved—no, ma
ke that thrilled—to see.

  * * *

  • • •

  Bitsy ate her TV dinner in front of the television since that seemed what they’d been designed for. As she ate her way through the Salisbury “steak,” Tater Tots, and green beans, she did her best not to think about the fact that she was home alone in her 450-square-foot cottage on a Friday night eating food out of a compartmentalized container that she’d microwaved, with only Sherlock for company.

  The entertainment “news” flew by. Miley Cyrus wearing something inappropriate, Caitlyn Jenner offering beauty tips, Kanye West behaving badly, a host of celebrities that she had never heard of spotted in places she would never choose to go.

  As it so often did, her mind lingered on the fact that she was living in limbo—not fully committed to the life that was now hers even as her former life became less and less real. At the moment, her hopes were pinned on Gary Kaufman and the information the forensic accountant had promised to share in the coming week. Information she prayed would enable her to bring Bertie to justice and reclaim the life he’d stolen.

  She stabbed at her final Tater Tot trying to visualize, and savor, the look of fear on Bertie’s face when he discovered that he’d been found. She was imagining herself aiming a pistol at his black heart while he begged her not to shoot him, when an image of Dustin Deranian gazing up at his father in what looked like a hotel lobby snagged her attention. The next words out of the reporter’s mouth were, “Today on a film set in Florida, Daniel Deranian’s son films perfect first take! Right after this!” Quick shots of him in the middle of a pack of paparazzi filled the screen then dissolved into a commercial.

  The report that followed focused primarily on Tonja Kay, Daniel Deranian, and their on-screen son, Dustin, along with a recap of the particulars of his conception and birth. Several brief and unflattering cutaways of Kyra standing off to the side and watching the perfect take had been inserted.

  “Jeez.” Bitsy did not understand how they were able to make a naturally beautiful twenty-seven-year-old woman look so bad, but it didn’t bode well for the rest of them. She was still picking at the alleged dessert in the final tiny square of the microwaved meal—a dessert Sherlock had turned his nose up at—when a knock sounded on her door. She opened it to Avery.

  “Maddie and Kyra and Dustin are here. We’re going to do sunset!” She sounded like a child about to open presents on Christmas morning.

  The words made Bitsy feel equally giddy. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, it’s been almost a week, but I’m pretty sure I still recognize them.” This was accompanied by an eye roll.

  “Not arguing. But I just saw Dustin and Kyra on Hollywood Tonight and the film was shot this afternoon.”

  “Well, they’re definitely here.” Avery’s smile grew larger. “Just think of me as your personal Paul Revere. Dustin’s going to spend a couple of hours with Steve, and Luvie volunteered to stay on with the twins. Bring whatever you have to drink. I’m going to go grab some Cheez Doodles.” She paused. “Is it pathetic that I’m so desperately happy to see them?”

  “Yes,” Bitsy said even as a smile spread across her face. “But I feel exactly the same way.”

  A few doors down Nikki, too, was pathetically happy. Ten minutes after Avery stopped to share the news of the Singers’ arrival, she was showered and dressed.

  “I fixed a plate of Ted Peters smoked fish spread on crackers for you if you’d like to take it,” Luvie said. “It’s there on the counter.”

  “Thank you. I know everyone will appreciate it.” Nikki retrieved a half bottle of white wine from the refrigerator and tucked it under one arm, then scooped up the Saran-wrapped paper plate. “But, you don’t have to stay. I mean, I appreciate the offer but Sofia and Gemma are asleep. And if I take the monitor with me, I can hear them if they wake up and be here in thirty seconds.” She knew this because she’d tested it. Now that she was running again she could probably make it in twenty-five.

  “I have nowhere I need to rush off to,” Luvie said. “You go enjoy yourself. There’s nothing like friends to perk a body up.”

  There was no arguing with this statement. Nikki had felt calmer after her conversation with Joe. He’d be back in exactly a week so the countdown had begun, but having Maddie and Kyra here for a full-fledged sunset? That was definitely a good thing. She smiled as she imagined beating Avery and Bitsy to toasting this, which meant she’d have to volunteer to be the first to share a good thing. Ha. She picked up her pace, her step far lighter than it had been after her run. As if arriving first would have anything to do with it.

  By the time they’d assembled on the beach with their folding chairs and snacks and drinks, the sun was close to setting. None of them cared. As far as Maddie was concerned the hugs and easy chatter were enough to make up for the shortened “show” they’d ostensibly come to watch and toast. And pretty much everything else.

  As she breathed in the evening air with its hint of salt, her heart stopped racing. Her pulse slowed. Her thoughts began to solidify. Much, she imagined, like a drug addict finally getting their fix.

  Mermaid Point had stunning sunrises and sunsets, an ocean of salty water, its own beach, and Will. Yet sitting in this small circle of women muffled the roar of panic that had shot her here like an iron ball out of a cannon.

  They raised their glasses and clinked. Nikki passed around the plate of snacks she’d brought. “Courtesy of Luvie.”

  Avery passed the bag of Cheez Doodles. “Courtesy of Wise and the Dollar Store. I think I may have cornered the market.” She popped a Doodle into her mouth.

  “Oh, joy,” Nikki said.

  Under the layer of sarcasm, Maddie thought Nikki sounded pretty joyous. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?” She’d passed on the snacks and sipped her glass of wine.

  “I’ve already eaten.”

  Avery snorted. But only after licking the cheese residue from her fingers. “Yeah, probably five or six lettuce leaves. A feast.”

  Nikki shot her a look. “Just because your metabolism is fully functional and your taste still runs to artificial cheese products, doesn’t mean everyone else can or should eat like a teenager. It’s only two more months until the girls turn one, and I’d like to lose this baby weight. If I don’t do it now, it might never happen.”

  Avery opened her mouth to protest or, possibly, to consume another Cheez Doodle. Maddie wasn’t sure which. Before she could do either, Nikki turned to Maddie and said, “By the way, my one good thing tonight is having you and Kyra back, so that we can do sunset together. I feel like you’ve been gone forever.” She raised her glass.

  “Thanks.” Maddie raised her own glass. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to be here.”

  “Me too!” Kyra raised her glass. “When Mom showed up, I realized how much I needed to get back even if it was just for the weekend.”

  “Ditto!” Bitsy chimed in, glass up.

  As one, they looked at Maddie.

  “I am so not the ‘good enough’ police,” she said as she so often had. But she could have laughed for joy herself as she said it.

  “Figures the first time I volunteer to go first everyone co-opts my good thing,” Nikki complained, but she, too, was smiling as she raised her glass a bit higher. “To all of us being together again.”

  “And feeling good about it.”

  “To us!” They clinked and drank and munched as the sun oozed into the water like a Dalí painting.

  Maddie thought the stars in the sky were glorious, the sand between her toes spectacular. But it was the people around her that were priceless. She pinched a Cheez Doodle and chewed it thoughtfully. Perhaps they should do a Mastercard commercial.

  There was a contented silence as the sky darkened.

  “I’m beyond glad to see you both.” It was Bitsy who broke the silence. “But what are you doing here? I
was just watching Dustin’s miraculous first scene on Hollywood Tonight—his very first take was perfect. And the next minute you were here.”

  “Wow, a perfect take?” Nikki asked.

  “Cool!” Avery added.

  “Yeah,” Kyra said. “Hit his mark, said his lines, acted convincingly. It was unbelievable.” There was pride but no happiness in the telling.

  “Is everything okay?” Nikki asked.

  “Yes,” Kyra said quietly. “But it feels a lot more okay now that we’re home. I swear I think even Max sighed with relief when we got here. But that could be because there actually isn’t room for his crate here.”

  “Max has a crate?” Avery said.

  “Yes. Apparently all Deranian-Kay family dogs are crate trained. But Max isn’t exactly enthusiastic about the experience. And I haven’t found a crate yet that can hold him.” Kyra’s voice didn’t encourage more questions. She turned to stare out over the water.

  “How about you, Maddie?” Avery asked. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes. I just . . . felt like I was at loose ends,” Maddie said. “Once we’re on tour I’m sure there will be plenty for me to do.” What? Find a way to make egg soufflé? Make sure Will goes to bed happy?

  Her voice trailed off as she replayed that morning’s conversation. Will’s hurt that she was leaving. His assertion that he was tired of coming in second. The way he’d said “if you intend to come on tour” as if he doubted she’d be back.

  “When is Joe due back?” Maddie asked Nikki, eager to turn the conversation.

  “Next Friday. Thank goodness.” Nikki took a very tiny sip of her wine.

  “You’re so lucky to have Luvie,” Bitsy said.