Best Beach Ever

by Wendy Wax

Joe’s eyes glimmered with interest. “And?”

  “And what if somebody he didn’t know approached him with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? Something tailor-made for him and way too good to resist?” Bitsy watched Joe’s face, barely breathing while she waited for his answer.

  “I like it,” he said finally. “I’ve never met Bertie. And I can get in and out of the Caymans in between work travel over the next weeks. I’d be glad to be the one to wave the perfect deal under his nose.” He smiled somewhat grimly. “Then, based on his need to ‘win,’ I’ll make sure he has to work damn hard to get in on it.”

  Twenty-seven

  The prescription for a weekend of R & R might (or might not) have been prescribed by Dr. Oz, but so far it seemed to be working. On the drive in yesterday Kyra had vowed that she would entertain no negative thoughts, that no matter what happened she would see her glass as “half full.”

  Max had woofed at their first sight of the Don CeSar’s mammoth pink facade and Dustin, who’d begun to rouse when they’d turned off 275 on to the Pinellas Bayway, clapped his hands. Even without her mother there to greet them, Kyra had felt the joy of homecoming. Even though her mother wasn’t present, her “village” was still intact.

  So far Saturday morning had been a lusciously lazy one spent in pajamas eating scrambled egg and cheese sandwiches in front of the television.

  “I think I need to practice my lines,” Dustin said around a mouthful of egg with one eye trained on the screen where Arthur the Aardvark’s episode “That’s MY Grandma!” was currently playing.

  “We’re going to do that tomorrow morning for exactly one hour,” Kyra said, pouring him a second glass of juice and setting it within reach on the coffee table. “We’re taking today off to relax and go out on the boat with Troy.”

  “Oh.”

  “You’ve got time for about two more episodes after this one,” she said, hoping she wouldn’t go to mommy hell for using television so blatantly to distract her child. When he sat back on the couch and took another bite of sandwich, she wanted to pump a fist in the air. Instead she all but skipped into her mother’s bedroom, where she curled up with the first book in The Dresden Files, a series she’d heard about but never found the time to start.

  Now it was noon. The three of them stood in front of Bella Flora’s front door, Max doing his happy tail while Kyra repeated her weekend mantra in her head—my glass is half full . . . half full . . . half full—and tried to prepare herself for once again entering her own home as a guest. Which was bound to feel even worse than ringing her own doorbell. Half full!

  “Hello.” Troy opened the front door. “Glad you could make it.” He looked at her face. Winced. “Okay, that was kind of weird, wasn’t it?” He motioned to them then back to himself. “Do you think we should swap places and try that again?”

  He looked and sounded so earnest that she surprised them both by laughing. “As long as you haven’t hurt a hair on Bella Flora’s head, I think I can handle it.”

  “Well then, we’re both in luck.” He stepped back and bowed at the waist, swirling his hand until it landed palm up like some sort of genie. “Because Bella Flora’s hair is totally intact. She had a wash and blowout from a professional yesterday in anticipation of your visit. And she’s very happy you’re here. She’s been missing you guys.”

  Kyra’s eye roll was automatic, but she appreciated his attempt to break the ice. She drew a deep breath as they entered. Half full, half full, he’s trying, he’s . . .

  The mantra evaporated as the clean scent of lemon and beeswax tickled her nose. The foyer chandelier gleamed above them, as did the floors beneath their feet. Sunshine streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows with barely a dust mote in sight. She sighed in relief and pleasure as Bella Flora wrapped her arms around them.

  “You do know I’m prepared to move back into the pool house if you and Dustin would like to stay here, right?”

  “Thanks. But we’re fine where we are,” she said, almost meaning it. “And while I appreciate that you’re taking good care of her, I can’t really afford to offer a refund right now.”

  “I’m sure we could work something out.” He raised both eyebrows suggestively, but his manner was that of an overgrown puppy that wanted only to play.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she said, even as her lips twisted up into a smile she couldn’t have stopped if she’d wanted to. His swim trunks encased muscled thighs, and the faded blue T-shirt skimmed lightly over his broad chest and taut abdomen. As they followed him down the central hallway, she glanced into the living and dining rooms as well as the Casbah Lounge, just to confirm that they, too, were being treated well. But she also noticed Troy’s backside and the athletic grace with which he moved. She did her best not to stare at his butt, but bottom line—yes, pun intended—this rakish, easygoing, noncombative version of Troy was compellingly attractive.

  In the kitchen her eyes skimmed over the soft green glass-fronted cabinets, reclaimed wood countertops, and Spanish tile floor that Deirdre had designed and that her mother had turned into the heart of this incredible house. Home.

  “Kyra?”

  “Mommy?”

  “Hmmm?” Clearly she had missed something.

  “Can we go to McDonald’s in the boat for lunch then go build a katsle on Shell Island like Troy said?”

  “When we get back, I figured we could hang by the pool and maybe grill some steaks?” Troy added.

  She looked at both their faces, eager and expectant. Max’s tail slapped against her leg like a frantically happy metronome.

  “I am at personal plan zero and I’m really enjoying it there,” she said truthfully. “I’m up for whatever you guys want to do.”

  Max woofed. His tail wagged faster.

  Troy grinned, all white teeth and polished surfer-guy good looks. “I’d say the vote’s unanimous. And I’m glad.” His voice dropped and his tone softened. “I know how hard it’s been on you these last weeks. Any film has the potential to chew you up and spit you out. But the dynamics on that picture are, well . . . you’re carrying a big load, but you don’t have to carry it alone. I’m here for you both. I hope you know that.”

  With his words the weight that she’d been carrying for months grew lighter. So did her step as they walked next door to the Cottage Inn, where Troy’s bright blue boat bobbed at its mooring. Troy untied the speedboat, backed out of the slip, then steered them into the pass. Kyra sat beside him, Dustin in her lap, her arms wrapped around his belly. Max stood between them, his face turned up into the cool salt breeze.

  They passed Bella Flora, gleaming in the winter sun, and then the jetty. Troy eased forward on the throttle and the boat picked up speed as they moved into the gulf. She breathed the fresh salt air into her lungs and felt her lips stretch into a smile. Bella Flora grew small as they headed north past the low-slung Sunshine Hotel and Beach Club and the bright pink castle-like fortress that was the Don CeSar. She looked up at Troy’s strong profile, the blond hair that whipped in the wind, the flutter of the T-shirt that occasionally bared glimpses of lean muscle and tanned skin. And found it even more attractive than Daniel’s dark good looks and brooding eyes.

  “Lookit!” Dustin pointed off the side of the bow. “It’s dolpins!”

  She hugged him tighter, watching the adult and two baby dolphins racing just ahead of them, leaping on occasion for what she chose to believe was joy.

  She glanced up and felt Troy’s eyes on them. With a huge smile he kicked their speed up a notch. The dolphin family kept pace. Kyra’s smile split her face and she laughed aloud. If she’d been a dolphin, she, too, would have leapt for joy.

  “Everything okay?” Troy called over the sound of the wind, the hull meeting the water, and the whine of the engine.

  She nodded, laughed again simply because it felt so good. She saw no reason to say so, but it was do
wnright shocking how much this man, this day, and this moment did not suck.

  * * *

  • • •

  “What time is Luvie due?” Joe stood near the front door of the cottage bright and early Monday morning, his carry-on and briefcase at his feet.

  “I asked her to come a little later,” Nikki said as he leaned over to pick up and kiss each of the girls. “I’m going to take the girls out for a run. Can we walk you out?”

  “Sure.”

  Nikki opened the front door and wheeled the jogging stroller into place, careful not to make eye contact with her husband as she slipped first Gemma and then Sofia into a seat before buckling them in. She put on her sunglasses, the better to keep him from reading anything in her eyes, and tried to move and react as normally as possible. She hated lying to Joe. And she was not particularly good at it.

  They lingered next to the car and she felt his reluctance to leave. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll be fine.”

  “Just promise me that you won’t hesitate to have Luvie however much you need her,” he said, watching her face.

  “Of course.” At least this wasn’t a lie. It was, in fact, exactly what she was doing.

  “Seriously, Nikki, I’m not worried about paying for extra hours.”

  She, on the other hand, was a bit worried about paying for all the hours they wouldn’t be using, but she kept this to herself. She could always call Luvie if she had to and simply say that she and the girls had come back early. Something she didn’t plan to do unless hell began to freeze over.

  She looped her arms around his neck and allowed herself to hold on tightly, a move she regretted when he reached down and slid her sunglasses off her face. “Sorry, but I like to look at the woman I’m kissing.”

  “Is that right?” she teased, careful not to look away. “I don’t know, I think dark glasses add a dash of mystery.” She left his sunglasses alone as she brushed her lips across his. He kissed her more fully and crushed her to him. Her heart thudded in her chest. In that moment she detested her dishonesty, but couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth.

  “I hate being gone this long. I could have gotten back a bit earlier if I weren’t using my free days to see what I can do in the Caymans,” he said as he released her.

  “It’s okay. I’m glad you’re trying to help Bitsy.” This, at least, was true. “Do you think you can get Bertie to meet?”

  “Well, I’m not the fisherman Will is, but I have caught enough bad guys to know how important it is to use the right bait. And I think tempting him with a deal then playing hard to get is exactly right. You have to play to people’s natures, appeal to their appetites.” One dark eyebrow sketched upward and she felt him studying her. She was very glad she couldn’t see his eyes. “And you have to be willing to exploit their weaknesses.”

  They watched Joe drive off, the girls calling out their good-byes and throwing kisses. Before any of them could tear up at his departure, she turned and pushed the stroller purposefully to the beach and down onto the hard-packed sand. When she’d finished her run and returned to the Sunshine, Bitsy, Renée, and Annelise were waiting to discuss the fashion show at a table under the overhang. Pulling out snacks and juice boxes for Gemma and Sofia, she angled the stroller so they could watch the lounge chairs being set up, the pool being cleaned, and keep track of the brightly colored kite that flew over the beach. They ate and drank and kicked their chubby legs happily. With an equally happy sigh Nikki pulled out the notes she’d made.

  “We sold two of the vintage bathing suits and a cover-up,” Bitsy said, kicking off the discussion. “I think the vintage/retro thing will make the fashion show unusual enough to get some extra media coverage.”

  “I’ve got a handful of friends from the garden club who’ve agreed to model,” Renée said. “And a couple more who offered to create centerpieces. I like the idea of holding the luncheon around the pool.”

  “Let’s do it. If for any reason the weather’s a problem, we can always take it inside.” Nikki checked the item off.

  “And the Pass-a-Grille Women’s Club and the Yacht Club have promised some models, too,” Renée said.

  “I have a couple of volunteers from the Gulf Beaches Historical Museum,” Annelise said. “And they’re going to run an article I wrote about the history of the Sunshine in the newsletter. Oh, and they and the St. Pete Beach Library are interested in showing Kyra’s documentary.”

  “This is all great stuff.” Nikki scribbled notes, jazzed by the opportunity to sink her teeth into the project and elated that she didn’t have to prepare for Luvie’s arrival or find something that would get her out of the cottage all afternoon. “Let’s do a flyer promoting a luncheon discount for anyone who tours the cottages. Do you think someone from Franklin Realty could distribute them?”

  “I’m sure we can make that happen,” Renée said. “And we’re starting to see some interest already. A friend of Martha Wyatt is coming to look at one-bedrooms this week, and she’s already spoken to Avery about building it out.”

  “Yeah, Avery told us,” Bitsy said. “And Troy offered to update the Sunshine website and create a promo for the event along with online ticketing and reservations.”

  “I feel good about the way this is coming together,” Nikki said. Actually, she felt good about everything. “I’m thinking Saturday, March fourth. Do you think that gives us enough time to get ready? We could push it back a bit.”

  “I think early March is perfect,” Renée said. “The weather will be gorgeous and snowbirds are still here—they’re a prime target for Sunshine cottages.”

  “I agree,” Bitsy said. “Plus Maddie and Kyra will be back and it gives us time to promote and plan.”

  “Done!” Nikki pounded an imaginary gavel.

  As if they’d just been waiting for the meeting to break up, Gem and Sofia began to cry. Nikki glanced at their distressed faces then down at her watch. Yikes. It was almost noon. Her nose wrinkled as she leaned closer to them and realized she hadn’t changed their diapers since breakfast? “Oh, my gosh. We’ve got to go.”

  “Where’s Luvie?” Bitsy asked as Nikki jumped to her feet and gathered up their things. “Isn’t she usually here by now?”

  “Um, she couldn’t come today.” Nikki stuffed everything into the diaper bag in too much of a hurry to worry about whether the lie sounded convincing.

  “Do you need help?” Renée asked. “Can we do something?”

  “No! I mean, no thank you.” Nikki turned the stroller. “I’ll um, I’ll see you later,” she called over her shoulder as she pushed the crying Sofia and Gemma toward home as quickly as she could. She was halfway there when she realized that she wasn’t sure whether Luvie took them out after their naps. Or whether she’d given them so many snacks that they should skip lunch and have a really early dinner?

  By the time she got to the cottage, wrangled the twins out of the stroller, and carried them inside, she was too tired to worry about the finer details of their daily schedule. She changed them and fed them and, despite their protests, put them in their cribs for a nap. Then she sprawled out on her own bed and closed her eyes. If she didn’t calm down and get some sleep, Sofia and Gemma might not be the only Giraldis crying.

  * * *

  • • •

  It was Tuesday and this was definitely Denver. Maddie knew this because on their flight into the Mile-High City, Will had turned in his seat and casually asked her if she’d ever joined the mile-high club.

  “It’s not something that came up on our family vacations,” she’d replied drily. “Having sex in such a tiny, public, and germy place never made it onto my bucket list.”

  He laughed. “I don’t think the initiation stipulates doing it on a commercial flight, which is a good thing given how much smaller those bathrooms have gotten. But if you wanted to try to stick to tradition, we could visit the bath
room here. It’s relatively big and definitely more private.”

  “True. Hardly anyone would notice if you didn’t count Robert, Kyle, Dean, Lori, Vicki, and Aaron.” She looked up toward the galley. “Oh, and, the two flight attendants.”

  Will grinned. “I feel pretty confident they’ll pretend they don’t know where we’re going and that no one will be knocking on that door.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” she’d asked even as she’d started imagining it, some might say warming to it. Just as she always did when he proposed the unexpected so unexpectedly.

  “Aw, hell, who am I kidding?” he’d said. “There’s a perfectly good bedroom on this plane. I say we go for comfort over tradition. We’re still a mile high, so I’m sure we can get you a membership card even if we bend the rules a little.”

  She’d laughed out loud then. But in truth, the twinkle in his eyes, the private smile on his lips, and the hand that cupped the back of her neck to pull her closer had made her more than ready to follow him anywhere.

  Now, hours later, seated just offstage at Denver’s Pepsi Center, she felt Will’s eyes on her and shivered at the memory of how he’d led her past everyone else without a word and simply closed the bedroom door behind them. She looked up and met his eyes as he picked out the opening notes of “Free Fall,” the song he’d written just after they’d renovated his private island for Do Over. The first song he’d written in more than a decade.

  The crowd began to hoot and applaud. Maddie smiled and fingered the plastic pilot wings Will had pinned to her chest with an intimate wink and even more intimate kiss before they’d deplaned.

  She watched him come fully alive onstage, watched him shimmer and shine beneath the spotlight and before the adoring crowd. Sharing this, being a part of this huge public thing with and for him, was proving to be one of the most deeply personal things Maddie had ever experienced.

  “God, I’m glad you’re here,” he said as he came offstage after their final encore.