Fab hit the gate opener clipped to the rearview mirror, and the gates to her house rolled back. She drove in and parked in front of three sets of arched double glass doors, each covered with an intricate wrought iron pattern, which opened into the entry.
“Now that the house is finished,” Didier said, clearly pleased, “we wanted the two of you to be the first to get a tour.”
“We’re going to have a big housewarming party once we get it furnished.” Fab glowed.
Fab had been adamant that I couldn’t see the renovations in progress. I didn’t bother to remind her that the house had just undergone a complete transformation, courtesy of the previous owners, and I found it hard to believe that it needed any additional work.
“Pretty spectacular entrance.” Creole whistled. “Like how the u-shaped driveway turned out. One thing I miss with mine is having a garage.”
Didier pulled some keys out of his pocket and hit a button, and the garage doors went up, his Mercedes looking lonely in the overly large space. Fab’s Porsche was, of course, still in Creole’s driveway, where she’d left it that morning when co-opting my Hummer. Not a speck of dirt to be seen, and it would probably stay that way, knowing Fab and Didier.
When I saw the floor plans, my first question had been, “Who’s going to clean this place?” Fab looked at me like I was nuts and never answered.
Didier ushered us to the front door, guiding us inside the u-shaped house and into the living room, an open space that looked out through French doors to the pool area, which overlooked the beach.
“You do know that all the furniture you ordered will have to be placed to take advantage of this amazing view?” I said to Fab.
“There isn’t a room in this house that doesn’t have a view of either the pool or the pool and the beach. I can’t believe the previous owners were content with windows. I had them torn out and replaced with doors, so we don’t have to walk through the house to get outside.”
“Your house belongs on the cover of a design magazine.” I smiled at her.
Didier stared contentedly at all the open space. “When it’s your house, and you know you’re going to make it your home, it makes dealing with the construction process that much more fun.”
He motioned for us to follow and started the tour, veering to the right into the stainless-and-marble kitchen, which had a fireplace, an island that could seat eight, and dining room space. Then down the long hallway ending in front of a set of double doors that opened into the master suite, which took up the entire left side of the house, with its own private patio and a view of the pool and beach.
Creole leaned down and whispered, “This one room is the same square footage as the entire second floor I was thinking about adding.”
Fab took the lead, doubling back to the other side of the house, where we connected to another hallway that led to four more rooms. “Guest bedrooms.” She waved dismissively as we passed. She continued to the end, coming to a stop in front of an oversized louvered door with a white bow on the handle. With her back to the door, Fab turned and grabbed my hand.
“This is my surprise. I really want you to like it. Okay?” She eyed me nervously.
I knew she was expecting an affirmative answer, but face it, the woman was sneaky personified. I looked at Creole, who winked and half-laughed, I’ll follow your lead written on his face.
“Maybe,” stumbled out. “I guess. What did you say? Oh yeah, okay.”
“You’re impossible.” Fab placed my hand on the handle. “It’s unlocked.”
I pushed open the door and took a step forward, standing in a small entry, and glanced around at the biggest bedroom I’d seen after the master bedroom. You could call up twenty-five of your closest friends, have them each bring a chair, and they could sit wherever they wanted. I opened another door, which led to an enormous ensuite with a sunken tub, a skylight overhead, and a walk-in shower with enough room for all those friends to crowd inside. The bedroom also had its own enclosed private patio, which was almost identical to the master’s, and a second room that could be used as a…sitting room? Office? I wasn’t sure what the builder had in mind.
My eyes zeroed in on the largest bed I’d ever seen, dressed in white with an enormous pile of pillows running the width. “What size?” I asked.
“Double king size,” Fab said.
Twelve feet wide, I calculated in my head. I’d never seen such a huge bed before. I refused to allow myself to ask a few practical questions, and instead, casually sat on the edge, not wanting to mess anything up, then jumped up, smoothing the duvet cover.
“You planning on having the neighborhood in for a sleepover?” Creole asked. He, like me, scanned every corner of the room, drinking in the view. “Oh, that’s right, you don’t have neighbors. Except for us.”
He and Didier laughed.
I rolled my eyes at them both and walked around one of the thick white throw rugs. “Love everything you’ve done so far. You have a talent for decorating. I need to get you a large conch shell to christen the room.”
Fab tugged on my hand and pulled me back down on the bed.
“Would you mind if I jumped up and down?” I asked. “Test it out.”
“We’ll do that. But after you…” Whatever she was about to say, she stopped. “This is my surprise.” She waved her arm around. “Didier and I took two bedrooms and turned them into a suite for you and Creole. The cats could have the run of the entire house.”
I wasn’t often shocked, but had to remind myself to keep my mouth closed.
Fab hurried on. “The reason that there’s only a bed is because I thought you’d want to choose the rest of the pieces for yourself.”
“You want—”
Fab cut me off. “This room is bigger than Creole’s entire house. Think of all the space the two of you would have. The best part is, we’d be living in separate wings but under the same roof. Hello, morning coffee together. We know the living arrangement works because we’ve been doing it for years.”
“And you know people find it weird,” I reminded her. “Adult couples don’t live together unless they’re doing something…” I scissored my fingers.
Didier and Creole wolfed out a laugh.
Fab slapped my hands down. “Stop that. It’s juvenile. We…” She circled her finger. “…don’t give a damn what other people think.”
“You got the last part right.” I smiled weakly. “We’re non-conformists. This is so…extravagant. Over the top. I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say that you’re moving in. The first morning and every morning after—well, maybe not every one—we’ll celebrate with coffee in the kitchen. I’ll even stock that cheap stuff you love. And I won’t complain if you commandeer the island for your work space.”
Didier sat behind Fab and put his arms around her. “You need to give Madison and Creole time to think over your proposal.”
“I don’t want to.” Fab sulked.
I squeezed Fab’s hand. “Creole and I need to talk about it in private.”
“That better not mean no.”
Didier tightened his hold.
“Come stay and try it out,” Fab whined a little. “It’ll be like a vacation.”
I willed Creole to come sit next to me, and he did.
“I was also thinking,” Fab added, “that when the two of you move in here, we can turn Creole’s place into a guest house.”
I leaned sideways against Creole’s chest.
“I agree with Madison that you two did an excellent job on the entire place,” Creole said. “You on board with this?” he asked Didier in a tone that suggested he didn’t believe Didier would agree.
“Absolutely.” Didier laughed. “I do have my own selfish motives. If you two move in, I won’t have to build an overhead walkway to your house. I had to put my foot down on Fab’s first choice of a tunnel.”
I shuddered at the thought of traipsing around underground. I’d never use it. Creole snorted, shaking
his head. I’d lay odds that he was thinking the same thing.
“You sure know how to spring an over-the-top surprise, but I shouldn’t have expected anything less.” I leaned over and hugged Fab. “You leave me speechless,” I whispered in her ear.
“The only word I want to hear from you is yes.”
“You two have all the time you need to discuss our proposition,” Didier said, returning Fab’s scowl. “We’ve got to get out of here so we won’t be late for dinner.” He tapped his watch.
I lingered to be last out the door and took the bow off the handle, wrapping it around my wrist.
Chapter Five
Fab and I raised our eyebrows as we passed GC’s door on the way to Brad’s. GC owned one of the two penthouses in the building and Brad the other. No one else in our acquaintance knew that Alexander Mark and GC were one and the same and our go-to guy for information, and it needed to stay that way.
Mila answered the door in a princess dress and crown, Brad standing behind her. Father and daughter had similar features, with big brown eyes, her light-brown hair getting more sun-bleached every day, just like her father’s. “Come in.” She waved at us enthusiastically. It was great to hear her speaking, since it had taken so long.
Fab bent down, handing her the wand she’d forgotten to get when she bought the rest of the outfit. “The perfect accessory.”
Mila stared in awe and threw her arms around Fab’s neck. Fab lifted her into her arms and walked into the living room.
All the men in the room belonged to the over-six-foot club, and Brad was no exception. I stood on tiptoe, and still Brad had to lean down so I could kiss his cheek. “You been staying out of trouble, bro?”
He chuckled. “I thought about jaywalking the other day and changed my mind.”
My brother and I had been close our entire lives, but after he was the prime suspect in his ex-girlfriend’s murder, we grew closer than ever. During that ordeal, I discovered that he had a daughter who’d been left by her mother to languish in a foster home, and Brad and I had worked together to bring Mila home.
Brad had since hired a therapist to bring his daughter out of her shell. Now, she spoke sparingly but wasn’t silent for long, as she reacted with bright animation, and the sweet sound of her laughter filled the penthouse.
He hooked his arm around my shoulders and followed the others into the combined living room/dining room, the sliding doors open to the patio and a view of the water.
The table was set, which meant that Mother had arrived early, probably with sacks of food. Mother did her cooking off a to-go menu.
In her sixties with a blond bob, she stood next to her burly, dark-haired husband, Jimmy Spoon, who was younger by ten years. Both were dressed to the nines in tropical attire, and a quick glance told me that Mother had been shopping again.
Spoon took drink orders. He’d already brought out an array of beers for the guys to argue about, comparing the taste and other factors beer lovers deemed important. He arched an eyebrow at me.
“I’ll have a margarita, Fab a martini.” I smiled sweetly.
“A full-bodied Cabernet or a Chardonnay?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Red and I’ll wait for dinner.”
The front door slammed. “Time to party.” Liam blew like a wild wind into the room. He lifted Mila out of Fab’s arms and waltzed her around the room, laying a big kiss on her cheek that had her giggling and kissing him back.
“Does the university know that you’ve wandered off?” I asked.
“It’s not a prison.” He snorted without looking away from Mila. “Your aunt thinks she’s so funny.” He rubbed noses with her and she laughed.
Liam had been adopted into the family when his mother dated Brad, and when she left for her big break in Hollywood, he stayed to finish school, only making quick trips to the west coast. He could easily pass for Brad’s son, as they shared many of the same features.
The doorbell rang. Brad answered and came back with six large pizza boxes and one small one and set them on the table. A true Westin, Mila clapped her hands in delight at seeing one of her favorite foods. Mother came out of the kitchen, a gigantic salad bowl in hand.
“Grab a plate and choose your topping,” Mother directed.
I sidled up to Creole. “Grab me a slice of grilled shrimp.” I looked over the boxes. “Make it two. If I can’t eat it all, I’ll take it home.”
He grinned down at me. There wasn’t anyone in the family that didn’t enjoy leftovers.
There was a loud banging on the door. Brad opened it, and dark-haired, blue-eyed Caspian Dumont, Fab’s papa, crossed the threshold. “My plane got in late. Had to fly around a weather disturbance,” he thundered.
Caspian had become an automatic member of the family when Fab introduced him to us right before her marriage. He fit right in, often regarding the rest of us with undisguised amusement.
“How did you get in the building?” Brad demanded.
“My daughter,” he blew her a kiss as she flew across the room, hugging him, “gifted me with a lockpick and showed me how to use it. She claims I’m her star pupil.” He winked at Mother, who blushed.
So Caspian had unseated Mother, grabbing her title.
Everyone heard Spoon growl. Mother did her best to get in trouble, and he worked overtime to make sure she didn’t.
Caspian bent down in front of Mila, who put her hands on his cheeks and kissed one and then the other. “Bonsoir, baby Mila.”
Mila beamed back at him. “Bonesy.”
Mother handed him a plate.
After everyone was seated, Spoon raised his beer bottle. “To family.”
“We might as well talk business over dinner. That way, we’re not sitting here all night,” Brad suggested with a touch of attitude.
Didier banged his fork on the side of his beer bottle. “Meeting called to order.” He grinned. “First on the agenda: Caspian, the rest of us took a vote, and you’re welcome into the group as long as it’s understood that you don’t contribute a dime more than anyone else.”
Caspian reached over and patted Fab’s arm. “I’ll be a silent partner. You and Didier can vote for me when I’m not here. I only want to be included because of my daughter.”
Fab leaned over and kissed his cheek. She’d been raised by her stepfather and didn’t get to know Caspian until college. He’d recently bought a home in the Keys to be close to his daughter when he jetted into town—his own island, to be exact, twenty-six acres far enough off-shore that it required a helicopter or boat ride to visit.
“Paradise Real Estate, Inc. is official,” Didier said. “We did this once before, then broke up to go off on our own. I think it will work this time, and in addition, each of us brings a different set of skills to the team.”
“We need a project,” Spoon said.
Creole spoke up. “I say we get our ideas together. Call another meeting to discuss them or send by email. Brad, Didier, and I can investigate the options, run the numbers, and bring them to a vote. How are talks going to acquire the vacant land opposite the Boardwalk area?” he asked Brad.
The land was owned by Brad’s ex-partner, who’d had plans to build his own kingdom. When he wasn’t able to acquire all the land, he’d opted to move to Chicago and take over family interests there instead. Good riddance!
“I submitted an offer; ‘take it or leave it’ implied. I don’t expect a speedy response,” Brad updated us.
“Not to be Madison-downer, but…” I ignored the groans. “This sounds like it entails a lot of paperwork, and I’ll be doing mine and Fab’s unless she gets an assistant. The very one I’ve been harping on for a while. We could share this paragon.”
Fab glared at me. “I suggest, in the meantime, that we use Mac.”
“Absolutely not. She’ll quit on me for sure,” I said.
Mac Lane managed the ten-unit beach cottage property that I’d inherited from my aunt. It was a full-time job corralling the tenants into some semblance
of normalcy, which was rarely achieved.
“You two are so high-maintenance, you’ll be lucky if the paragon stays a week,” Liam said with a big smile.
Caspian laughed. “I’m liking these family dinners.”
“Just wait, it’s not over,” I whispered loudly to him. “A fight hasn’t broken out yet.” The Westins were known for having a brawl or two, mostly started by me.
That had everyone laughing.
“It’s agreed that we’re all in?” Didier raised his hand, and Mila raised hers. The rest of us nodded. “The grand opening party for Tarpon Boardwalk has been scheduled, and we’re in the middle of putting together a big advertising campaign. I expect all of you to attend.”
“I have a bit of news about my space,” I said. “It is no more. I signed over my interest to an ice cream bar.” It was news to everyone except Didier, who’d directed the lawyer to draw up new contracts.
“It’s a great idea.” Creole’s tone defied anyone to argue. “If Madison decides to go ahead with her other idea, there will be plenty of opportunities as we begin to expand.”
Mother’s hand shot in the air. “I vote for a cigar bar. And who better than me to recommend a selection of hand-rolled cigars? I can introduce you to the family-run store in Miami where I get mine.”
That got a couple of laughs, but everyone knew she was serious.
“Even Mother is getting into the entrepreneurial spirit.” I beamed at her.
“I wouldn’t mind getting in on that idea.” Caspian grinned at Spoon’s glare.
“You know what would make me really happy?” Mother asked, an innocent look on her face. “A certain couple announcing a wedding date.”
I patted Creole’s leg under the table, telegraphing that he could answer the question for the umpteenth time.
“You’ll be the first to know.” He pasted on a smile.
Didier and Brad grinned at him.
Fab banged her hand on the table. “No eloping,” she came closing to yelling.
I shook my head slightly as a reminder not to go any further and spill that Creole and I had talked about doing just that.
“Madison wouldn’t do that,” Mother assured everyone.
Overdose in Paradise Page 3