by Wendy Wax
When are you coming down to Mermaid Point? They had met when their former network sent Madeline, Kyra, Avery Lawford, and Nicole Grant down to the Keys with instructions to turn Will’s private island into a bed-and-breakfast—an idea he did not appreciate in the least.
As soon as Kyra and Dustin leave for Orlando. Kyra, who’d met and fallen for the megastar on her very first film set, was not at all happy about the upcoming film. Or having to spend six weeks on set with Daniel and his equally famous movie star wife, Tonja Kay.
Can you tell me when?
In two weeks.
That’s 2 weeks 2 long.
She was still smiling when she heard the first sounds of movement from the second bedroom. By the time she’d finished setting the dinette table, pulling the orange juice out of the refrigerator, and cutting up a bowl of fruit, there were only a few minutes left on the timer. A woof and the shake of a dog’s collar were followed by the creak of a bed frame. Despite the early hour, the soufflé had worked its magic. She poured herself a cup of freshly brewed coffee.
Today was the first day of the rest of her life. Now all she had to do was figure out what to do with it.
* * *
In the small second bedroom of her mother’s cottage, Kyra woke to the scents of coffee and egg soufflé.
Dustin slept on the railed bunk bed above her. Max, the Great Dane puppy his father had unexpectedly and unaccountably given Dustin for Christmas, stood next to her bed, whimpering. She did not want to get up, but she also didn’t want to clean up another accident.
Max nudged her with his wet, cold nose, and she threw off her sheets.
Today was not a good day. Today was the day a stranger would move into Bella Flora.
Max began to circle and sniff the floor. Kyra sat up, careful not to hit her head on the upper bunk. She was debating whether she could make a run to the bathroom when Max’s whimper turned more urgent. “Got it. Hold on!” She grabbed him and raced for the door, holding him out in front of her.
“Good morning.” Maddie moved to throw open the door.
“Um-hmmm.” She sniffed appreciatively as they passed the oven that held the soufflé. Madeline Singer was the mother everyone deserved but didn’t necessarily get. She’d created a home everywhere they’d landed, from the initially uninhabitable Bella Flora, to Max Golden’s neglected Deco home on South Beach, to the rickety houseboat tethered to William Hightower’s dock.
While Max anointed the grass and the nearest bush, she lifted her cell phone and roused it. The first six months’ rent had been released from escrow and deposited into her account, but the sight of all those zeros didn’t make her anywhere near as happy as it should have. It meant there was not going to be a last-minute reprieve. The tenant would move in today. For the next six months, he/she/they would have the run of Bella Flora and the option to stay on for six more months after that.
Which meant she and Dustin and Max could be sharing a bedroom in Maddie’s cottage for an entire year while a stranger lived in the house they’d poured their hearts and souls into and that was “home” in every way that mattered. She’d been a fool to believe that everything would somehow magically work out when she’d taken the loan to finance the Sunshine Hotel renovation and their own version of Do Over.
Max woofed happily as she pulled a plastic bag from her pocket, picked up his offering, and then dropped it in a nearby trash can. She’d changed Dustin’s diapers easily enough, but she’d known the day would come when he could use the toilet on his own. Unless they moved into a rural setting, Max was never going to be able to dispose of his own droppings. She did not want to think about how big Max was going to get, or what size plastic bag he would one day require.
Inside, she found Dustin sitting at the dinette, drinking a cup of orange juice and chatting with his favorite person. That person held out a cup of coffee.
“Thanks, Mom.” She swallowed a long sip, let the warmth slide down her throat. “The money’s in my account.”
“That’s a good thing, Kyra. That will definitely take some of the pressure off.”
“I know. But . . .”
“Come eat.” Three plates containing soufflé, buttered toast, and fresh fruit were on their way to the table. Within seconds, Kyra was seated. She picked up her fork, but her appetite fled almost immediately.
“Kyra, you need to let go of the worry. It’s done. Bella Flora’s only on loan. She still belongs to Dustin and you. Emotionally, she’ll always belong to all of us.”
“It’s just . . .” Kyra took a bite of soufflé, but her usual bliss over the cheesy wonderfulness was missing. She needed to see the tenant for herself. Needed to make sure he wasn’t some Attila the Hun of houses, bent on destruction. Or someone fronting for Daniel Deranian and Tonja Kay for some nefarious reason she’d yet to figure out. She took another bite of soufflé and washed it down with another long pull of coffee.
John Franklin was meeting the tenant at eleven to hand over the key. She stole a glance at her phone. It was early. There would be plenty of time after a leisurely breakfast to shower and dress and discover that she’d left something at Bella Flora that they couldn’t possibly be expected to live without.
* * *
Avery Lawford did not want to get out of bed. Not now. Not ever. She clutched the pillow more tightly to her chest and kept her eyes shut. It would take a crowbar to pry them open. A tow truck to move her.
Something warm passed under her nose. It smelled dark and steamy before it moved just out of range and then back again. The lovely fog of sleep that had enveloped her began to dissipate. She closed her eyes tighter and wished she could shut her nostrils, but Avery braked for coffee. She drank it for the protection of others and had the T-shirt to prove it. She burrowed deeper into the cocoon of blankets, but her nose betrayed her.
No. She would not be ruled by coffee. She was stronger than coffee. The smell retreated. She’d begun to relax back into sleep when the crinkle of paper sounded near her ear. There was movement. A new scent joined the first. She sniffed—a reflex, nothing more. She was only human. Sugar.
“Avery?” Chase Hardin’s voice was warm and seductive.
“There’s nothing you could say or do that would make me get out of this bed right now.”
“Nothing?” The bed dipped as he sat on its edge. “You mean you don’t want this Dunkin’ Donuts coffee or these glazed donuts?” He waved each item as he mentioned it. His voice grew muffled as he took a bite of donut and chewed appreciatively. “Ummm, that’s good.” He bent over and kissed her with warm lips sticky with sugar. This was what came of sleeping with a man who knew your weaknesses.
She opened her eyes. A large Styrofoam cup of coffee sat on the nightstand.
Chase finished off the donut, licked his fingers, and grinned. “I don’t remember the last time I spent almost two days in bed.” His blue eyes glittered. Dark stubble covered his cheeks, and his hair stuck up in a variety of directions. “I thought we needed sustenance.” When she didn’t make a move, he drew a donut out of the bag and placed it on a napkin next to the cup of coffee.
She’d known Chase since childhood, much of which she’d spent crushing on him. They grew up on their fathers’ construction sites, went their separate ways. She became an architect. He took over Hardin Morgan Construction. He’d been a royal pain in the ass the whole time he was helping them renovate Bella Flora. And then one day he wasn’t.
“Your cupboards are bare,” he said. “A man cannot live on sex and Cheez Doodles alone.”
“This woman can,” she replied, stung that he would disparage the snack that, in the darkest of times, could help make life worth living.
“I give that donut and coffee about fifteen seconds.” He looked at her knowingly.
She wanted to argue. And she really, really wanted to be asleep. She could resist if she wanted to. She could. But wha
t would be gained by rejecting a warm, gooey, glazed donut and a steaming cup of coffee?
“If you were looking at me like you’re looking at that donut right now, we could spend another two days in bed.” He stretched and scratched his chest. “I owe my sister big time for having Dad and the boys up for the week.” His blue eyes turned dark and steamy. They were a magnetic force. The siren call of coffee and donuts grew softer as a shiver of anticipation snaked up her spine. They’d been in bed since New Year’s Eve, and today was . . . “Oh, no!” She sat up.
“What?”
“What day is it?” She ran her hands under the covers, but her phone wasn’t there.
“It’s Monday.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded without hesitation.
“But that means it’s . . .”
“. . . January second,” they said simultaneously. But it was just a date on the calendar to him. She began scooting out of bed.
“What time is it?”
He glanced down at his watch. “It’s . . . ten forty.”
She took one bite of donut, swallowed it whole, and grabbed the cup of coffee. “How far away did you park?” She moved toward the bathroom, very glad the cottage was so tiny.
“Hmmm?”
“You didn’t park here at the Sunshine, right? I told you I didn’t want anyone to know that we’re . . . you know . . .” She nodded toward the bed, which looked like it had been struck by a hurricane. Or lifted by a tornado and tossed around for a night or two.
“Everybody knows, Avery. There’s no reason to keep it a secret that we’re back together.”
“But we’re not back together.” She raced into the bathroom, turned on the shower, darted back to retrieve the donut. “Having sex doesn’t mean we’re back together. It just means we’re still attracted to each other and spent a couple of days in bed to celebrate the New Year.”
Their relationship had foundered during his youngest son Jason’s meltdown and rebellion. Jason was doing better now and repeating his senior year of high school, but Avery could still remember exactly how it felt to be pushed away when things got rough. Other than Maddie, Nikki, and Kyra, the Hardins were the closest thing to family she had, and yet Chase had completely shut her out when Jason had gone off the rails. Out of the family and out of Hardin Morgan Construction.
That they were dating again was due to his abject apologies and powers of persuasion. She enjoyed his company, and the sex was spectacular, but she didn’t intend to open herself up to that kind of hurt again anytime this millennium. And she was not prepared to tie her career to his.
She devoured the donut in a few hungry bites, and then stepped into the hot shower. Ten minutes later, she was running a comb through her short, blond hair and pulling on a pair of jeans and a Do Over T-shirt. She could almost hear her mother’s ghost hovering above her and sighing over her lack of makeup, but she was a wash-and-wear kind of girl. And though she no longer hid the Dolly Parton bust that was too large for her height in oversized clothes, she had not yet reconciled to the big, blue eyes and Kewpie doll features that caused strangers to deduct IQ points before she even opened her mouth. “Are you staying here or coming with me?”
“Where are we going?” He grabbed the bag of donuts.
“Out.”
“Out where?”
She grabbed the keys to the Mini Cooper and headed for the front door.
* * *
Nikki and Joe sat at their favorite picnic table at the Paradise Grille overlooking the white sand beach and the gulf that it bound. A stream of beachgoers passed in both directions. A jovial game of corn hole played out in the soft sand nearby.
Sofia and Gemma snoozed happily in the stroller, their faces smeared with the remnants of a scrambled egg breakfast. Seagulls eyed the crumbs left on their plates, but so far no dive-bombing had occurred.
“God, they’re adorable when they’re asleep,” Nikki said, looking at the girls’ angelic faces. “Not that they aren’t adorable when they’re awake, but . . .”
“. . . You’re too busy trying to keep them happy to notice.”
Nikki looked at Joe. “You don’t even bat an eyelash when Gemma goes on a screaming jag. Or one of them projectile vomits all over you.”
“I may have ended up in the financial crimes unit, but I do have hostage negotiation training,” he said wryly. “I know how to look like I’m not panicking, even when I’m scared shitless.”
“So when do you think you’ll be able to actually start negotiating with them?”
“Well, we know from personal experience that it doesn’t work on pregnant women,” he said. “I can’t remember convincing you of a single thing while you were carrying them. So, while I don’t know that there’s a lower age limit, it’s clear that rational thought is necessary. And probably the ability to speak, or at least understand and process language.”
“Great.” Nikki slumped. Every morning she vowed this would be the day that she’d become competent and unharried. The kind of mother who loved her children so much that she never resented the endless demands that created the near-constant state of exhaustion.
“I’ve got another ten days or so, and then I’m going to have to start traveling again.”
Her heart sunk further. “Oh?”
“Yeah. Which is why I really think we ought to hire someone to help you.”
“No. I’m their mother. Taking care of them is my job.” Not a job she’d ever imagined for herself. But it wasn’t one you could resign from.
“Nik, they’re too much for the two of us a lot of the time. I can’t leave you alone.”
“I won’t be alone,” she said, trying to keep the panic out of her eyes and her voice. “Maddie will help. And . . . Avery and Bitsy will be nearby.” Neither of them mentioned that Bitsy had fallen down on the job the night Nikki had gone into labor.
“Kyra and Dustin will be leaving for Orlando in two weeks. And Maddie won’t have a reason to stay here. She’ll be free to travel. Or spend time with Will. Or whatever she feels like. And Avery and Bitsy have no experience with children and aren’t looking to acquire it. Plus, they’ll both be working.”
“I can do it,” she said. “End of conversation.”
“But Nikki, I . . .” His face smoothed out. She saw him relax his features, his shoulders. Hostage negotiation training her ass. “Ready to head back?”
She’d barely made it this far. In fact, about halfway there, she’d been doing more of a brisk walk than a slow jog.
“I was thinking maybe I could run back to the cottage and come pick you all up in the car.” He looked at her face. “You know, in case you’d like to just chill here for a while.”
“Don’t think I can make it back?” she challenged, though she wasn’t totally sure she could. She only knew she was not going to appear too tired or too overwhelmed or too anything in front of him.
“No, of course not. I just thought you might want to get back more quickly. It’s getting close to eleven.”
“Eleven?” She sat up.
“Yes.”
“I wouldn’t mind walking a little farther. There’s really no rush to get back, is there?”
“No.”
“The girls love the jetty. And the fishermen on the dock.”
He gave her a long look. “Sure. Why not?” He busied himself gathering the paper plates and cups and was gentlemanly enough not to say anything when she took her time getting to her feet.
* * *
“That was one of your best egg soufflés ever, Mom. Right, Dustin?” Freshly showered and dressed, Kyra strode back into the living room/kitchen, where Dustin stood on a stool, “helping” his grandmother wash the dishes.
“D’licious,” he agreed, waving his hands, which were encased in a pair of too-large rubber gloves. Max was under the table, licki
ng up the bits of egg that surrounded Dustin’s chair.
“What do we say to Grandma?” Kyra asked Dustin as she stole a glance at the clock on the wall, and then turned her gaze to the coffee table, where the car keys typically ended up.
“Thank you, Geema!” Dustin crowed.
“You’re both very welcome,” Maddie said, hiding her smile at the speed with which Kyra located and pocketed the car keys.
“If you don’t mind keeping an eye on Dustin, I . . . I have a couple of things I need to take care of.” Kyra didn’t quite meet her eye as she laid a kiss on Dustin’s head and moved toward the door.
“Things?” Maddie asked.
“Umm-hmmm.”
“Dustin wanna do things, too!” Dustin clambered down from the step and held out his arms. Maddie peeled the large, yellow gloves from beneath his armpits and down his arms.
Kyra checked the clock again.
“It’s ten fifty,” Maddie said. “Where exactly are you going?”
“Oh, you know. Here and there. Not far,” Kyra babbled. “I won’t be gone long.”
“Kyra . . .”
Her daughter looked up, as if she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“I really don’t think this is a good idea.”
“I . . . don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kyra protested.
“It would be better to just stay away,” Maddie said gently.
“Stay away from what?” Kyra adopted an expression of surprised confusion, but any mother worth her salt could read a daughter’s face like a road map. It would take more than feigned indignation to make Maddie believe she was headed out to run errands.
“Kyra.”
“Fine.” Kyra sighed. “It’s not like there’s any chance of keeping a secret when we’re living on top of each other like this, anyway.”
