by Wendy Wax
The room that adjoined it had no door, just an angled opening. “This one has a double bed, too. But there’s pretty much no storage.”
“This place gives the term ‘bare bones’ a whole new meaning,” Deirdre muttered.
They shifted again so that Avery could climb up the small ladder that ran up the wall. She remained on the steps as she looked around. “Two platform beds divided by a low partition. Two small windows—one of them has an AC unit in it and there’s a door onto the upper deck.” She disappeared into the space. When she backed down the ladder she turned to face them. “It’s tight and the ceiling’s low. I can just stand upright.”
“Dibs on the ‘penthouse,’” Deirdre said, sounding pleased. “We’re compact. It’ll be perfect for us.”
“You might as well enjoy calling it that while you can,” Avery said, “because once you see it you’ll have to stop.”
“Shall I pass up my luggage?” Deirdre asked.
“No. It’s probably better to carry it up the outer stair, but you’re on your own with that,” Avery said to Deirdre. “There’s a couple of hooks and a built-in set of drawers. Other than that there’s no storage in the ‘penthouse.’ Every inch is pretty much spoken for.”
“But where am I supposed to put my things?” Deirdre asked.
Avery shrugged. “You can sleep with them, as far as I’m concerned. Anything that ends up on my bed or in my way will be sleeping with the fishes.”
Deirdre harrumphed.
“Why don’t I take the bunk room?” Kyra suggested. “I can put Dustin on the bottom bunk and put cushions on the floor. That way Mom and Nicole can have their own rooms.”
“That sounds good,” Maddie said. “And I don’t mind having the room without the door. That way I can keep a better ear out for Dustin.”
“Thanks,” Nicole said, relieved that no matter how cramped her space, it would belong only to her.
“Well, at least no one has to sleep on the dinette or couch,” Maddie pointed out.
This was true, Nicole thought as she stepped into the tiny fiberglass-walled space that would be hers for the foreseeable future. There was no privacy here and even less storage, but at least this time out everyone would have a bed of her own.
• • •
By the time they carried drinks and snacks and the deli sandwiches Maddie had found in the refrigerator to the upper deck, sunset was in full flame. They sat on the built-in bench seats that ran down both sides of the deck, resting the food and drinks beside them. “Dinner” had been laid out on two of Deirdre’s hard-sided suitcases. The drink of the night was rum and Diet Coke.
“I can’t believe you remembered to bring Cheez Doodles!” Avery said to Maddie as she took a handful from the industrial-sized bag.
“We wouldn’t want to see you in Doodle withdrawal,” Deirdre said drily. “I understand getting those artificial cheese cravings out of your system can be almost as difficult as getting the orange dye off of your skin.”
“All we need is a couple of tables and maybe a few folding chairs and we’re in business,” Maddie said.
“Yes. It’s a little disconcerting how ‘attached’ everything is,” Nicole said. She’d been on yachts that felt more like moving five-star hotels, back when Heart Inc. was thriving, and on Joe’s speedboat in Miami all fall and winter. This houseboat was a whole other animal.
They faced westward as they nibbled on their sandwiches, gazing across the Overseas Highway to the Florida Bay, where the sun was in the process of turning a deep bloodred. Stray bits of music floated on the breeze. The houseboat rocked gently beneath them.
“Just look at that sky,” Maddie said.
“It makes me wish I could paint.” Kyra’s video camera was aimed at the display.
They sat in silence, breathing in the salt-tinged air. Nearby a small fish jumped. Insects hummed quietly.
“It’s so peaceful here,” Avery said.
“It is beautiful,” Nicole agreed. “I’d think it was even more beautiful if we were staying in the main house. With actual bathrooms and solid ground under our feet.”
“Solid ground would be good,” Kyra agreed, offering Dustin a small piece of meat wrapped in cheese. He clutched a sippy cup of milk in his hands. “Bathrooms and closets would be even better.”
“I don’t really see why we can’t stay in the house. It’s certainly large enough that we wouldn’t be on top of him,” Deirdre said.
“Not that being on top of William Hightower would be such a horrible thing.” Nicole laughed. “The man looks good for his age. And he’s still got massive name recognition. I could fix him up with someone equally high profile and put Heart Inc. right back at the top of the matchmaking heap.”
“She’d have to be wealthy in her own right,” Deirdre said. “Given his reaction to our presence it’s pretty clear we wouldn’t be here if his bank account was as large as his name. And I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that he just came out of rehab for the fourth or fifth time.”
Maddie nodded her head. “His brother OD’d really young. And you don’t get a nickname like William the Wild for no reason.”
“Maybe we’re really here to get him back in the headlines so that he can stage a comeback,” Kyra said.
“I don’t think a padlocked studio is a sign of someone planning a comeback,” Maddie said. “And he doesn’t seem any more interested in attracting the press than we are.”
Nicole poured another round of drinks. The snap of the can and the hiss that followed sounded downright explosive against the surrounding quiet. She raised her glass. “To Mermaid Point. And camera-free sunsets.”
They clinked plastic cups and drank.
“Well, I vote that we defer our nightly ‘one good thing’ until we have a chance to get . . . acclimated,” Avery said. “I’m kind of afraid to commit until we see the inside of that house.”
“Good thinking,” Nicole said. “We don’t want to waste a good thing. I have a feeling they might be really hard to come by.”
They looked at Maddie, who claimed she wasn’t the “good enough” police but who absolutely was.
“I’m fine with that,” Maddie said with a yawn. “But I’m sure there’ll be plenty of good things to toast once we get situated.”
Dustin lay back in Kyra’s lap. One thumb went into his mouth. The sippy cup dangled from his other hand.
“I don’t see any sign of Troy and Anthony on the other houseboat and they don’t seem to be skulking in the bushes,” Kyra said.
“I bet they’re over on Islamorada,” Avery said.
“At a restaurant,” Deirdre added.
“Eating something that didn’t come wrapped in plastic,” Nicole said.
“It wouldn’t surprise me one bit,” Kyra said. “They’re not the ones who are supposed to look like shit on camera. That’s why I’m shooting everything, too—in case we ever need to show things the way they really are.”
“I almost feel sorry for Will . . .” Maddie said in a musing tone. “I mean . . . William. They’re going to use him the same way they use us.”
Kyra looked at her mother in surprise. Nicole wondered if she’d missed Maddie’s reaction to William Hightower. “He’s a grown man,” Kyra said. “I’d rather they focus on him than on Dustin, but I’m sure they have instructions from Lisa Hogan to shoot the hell out of both of them.” She looked down at the child in her lap. Dustin was asleep, his chest rising and falling with each breath.
“I think it’s time to put Dustin to bed.” Maddie yawned. “It’s been a long and surprising day.” She began to gather up the cups and trash. The rest of them followed suit.
“And it’s going to take a while for all of us to wash up and get ready for bed seeing as how we’ll be doing it one at a time,” Avery pointed out.
They glanced at each other then made a
beeline for the steps that led down to the main cabin.
By the time Nicole had a turn in the too-small bathroom, made up her bed, and fell into it, she was far too tired to respond to Giraldi’s good-night text other than to feel relief that there appeared to be cell service on their tea-table-shaped island.
The foam mattress wasn’t particularly comfortable and the “walls” were definitely too thin, but the subtle rocking motion and the sound of water lapping against the hull weren’t bad. Her last thought as she finally drifted off to sleep was that it would take a nuclear blast to get her up in the morning.
Chapter Nine
An alien sound pierced the quiet.
Avery shot up in bed. Her eyes flew open. On the other side of the divider Deirdre’s bed was empty of everything but Deirdre’s suitcases, which were piled so high they blocked the narrow rectangle of window through which morning sunlight had already appeared.
Avery stole a look at her watch and groaned. Eight o’clock. She sank back on her pillow, closed her eyes, and willed herself back to sleep.
This time the sound was louder, more insistent, and recognizable. It was a sound she’d never actually heard in person. That sound was cock-a-doodle-doo.
The rooster did it again even though it was long past sunrise. Weren’t they supposed to have internal time clocks?
The rooster crowed again.
“Cock-a-doodle-doo, my ass!” Beyond irritated, she threw off the covers and sat up to squint out her window at the island. The damned bird was down in the clearing near the stand of palm trees. It threw out its chest and opened its mouth, emitting another wake-up call as it strutted around the clearing. A bevy of chickens clucked around him.
She was about to pull the sheet back up over her head when the aroma of coffee reached her nostrils. There was movement below. Hushed voices. The sound of water running.
Pulling on cutoffs and a T-shirt, she climbed down the ladder, landing in the middle of the main cabin.
Maddie, wonderful Maddie, handed her a cup of coffee and led her to the banquette on which an open box of doughnuts sat. Kyra and Dustin were already there, munching on a granola bar and a banana, respectively. Deirdre, who was made up and dressed in gauzy white high-end cruise wear, was eating a carton of low-fat yogurt with a plastic spoon, pinky up. There was a thud in the bathroom and a curse that had to be coming from Nicole.
Deirdre looked at Avery, took in her clothing. One eyebrow went up. Her mouth opened. At a head shake from Maddie, she actually closed it. Avery sighed and sipped her coffee. As the caffeine entered her system Maddie reached into the box, removed a chocolate-glazed doughnut, and set it on a napkin in front of Avery.
“Bless you,” Avery said, taking a large, wonderful, sugar-filled bite.
“My pleasure.” Maddie smiled. Her warm brown eyes glowed with good humor. “I’ve got a grocery list started.” She slid in beside Dustin and broke off a piece of doughnut for him. “We don’t have much in the way of storage space, but go ahead and add your must-haves to the list.”
“How are you planning to reach land?” Deirdre asked.
“I don’t know,” Maddie said. “But for the time being I’m going to assume that we’re not being held hostage and all they’re trying to do is make things more challenging.”
Nicole came out of the bathroom in running clothes, her hair slicked back in a ponytail, her makeup in place. “‘Challenging’ is an understatement. I’m black-and-blue and that’s without showering or attempting to blow-dry my hair.”
“Where are you going?” Kyra asked.
“Out for a run,” Nicole said.
“I don’t think the island’s all that big,” Deirdre said.
“Then I guess I’ll have to run around it a lot of times. Or learn how to run on water.”
There was a knock on the cabin door. It opened. Troy and Anthony stood on the other side of it.
Avery sighed again. She took another sip of coffee as they entered.
“We thought you’d abandoned the island,” Kyra said.
“Nope.” The light that indicated he was shooting glowed on Troy’s video camera.
“Where were you?” Kyra asked, wiping doughnut crumbs off Dustin’s mouth and hands.
“And here I thought you’d be glad we weren’t in your face,” Troy said amiably.
“I’m just curious how you’re getting on and off the island. Seeing as we might actually want or need to do the same at some point.” Kyra slid out of the banquette, keeping Dustin behind her.
“Hudson took us for a drink over at the Lorelei. They have a pretty cool celebration at sunset.” Troy moved to his right to get in better position. “Speaking of celebrating, there’s no alcohol on the island. Or at least there’s not supposed to be.” Troy pulled a typewritten sheet of dos and don’ts from his pocket and handed it to Avery.
“Well, I’m not going to make it through this summer without a drink,” Nicole said.
“You can drink on the houseboat,” Troy said. “You just don’t want to be obvious about it.”
“So we’re turning this place into a B and B that isn’t going to serve alcohol?” Deirdre asked. “I thought fishermen drank like . . . well, fish. Not that I’ve ever understood that expression.”
“Not our problem,” Avery said, still reading the list. “Our job is to renovate and keep the show interesting enough to be renewed without completely humiliating ourselves.”
Troy panned across them, no doubt going in tight on each and every one of their faces.
“Right.” Nicole blinked when the camera lens stopped moving and remained aimed directly at her. “I know I’m not alone when I say it’s the humiliating part that worries me the most.”
• • •
Maddie followed the others along the sandy, tree-rutted path that led to the house, Dustin’s hand in hers. Her thoughts were caught up in William Hightower and his drinking problem. The tabloids were filled with stories about celebrities who checked in and out of rehab as regularly as she might run to the grocery store; she just hadn’t been looking, had even been avoiding her usual People magazine fix at the hair salon ever since Kyra’s and Dustin’s faces had begun staring back out at her. She reminded herself that she knew absolutely nothing about the real William Hightower. Like a million other girls, she’d had a juvenile crush on a bad-boy rock star.
Now he was the homeowner they were here to help. No different from Max Golden, the former vaudevillian they’d fallen in love with on South Beach. Except that Max, who’d had a professionally honed sense of humor, superb comedic timing, and a boatload of heart, had been ninety. William Hightower was barely sixty and had a wounded look in his eye that only made him more attractive.
The house looked larger and more weary in the bright morning light; its wooden façade and heavy double doors weather-beaten; its windows obscure and glazed.
Nicole jogged into the clearing to join them. She bent at the waist, hands on her knees, to catch her breath as the rest of them studied the house. Avery scribbled in a notebook while Troy and Kyra shot video of the house’s exterior and those assembled in front of it, seemingly unaware of each other but somehow managing not to collide.
Thomas and William Hightower stood near the steps. The younger Hightower was dressed in business casual, which seemed oddly formal in this setting. His father wore bathing trunks that rode low on his hips, an old World Wide Sportsman T-shirt, and a well-worn pair of flip-flops. His hair and T-shirt were damp as if he’d been dragged out of the pool against his will. His dark eyes were sharp and not the least bit hospitable.
“So, the house and the structures you saw yesterday are pretty much as they were when William bought Mermaid Point in 1983. It hasn’t really been remodeled or redecorated in any significant way since the early nineties.” Thomas cleared his throat, ran a hand over his short dark hair. “There’s
been a good bit of deterioration over the last ten or fifteen years.”
Will snorted with impatience. “I imagine they can see that for themselves,” he said. “Why don’t we just give them the tour and be done with it?”
Avery stopped scribbling and looked at the aging rocker. “I love the clean lines of this house,” she said. “The board and batten gives it lift and a classic Florida feel. And the keystone in the foundation surround and on the steps gives it an indigenous feel—almost as if it grew out of the island itself.”
Will eyed her suspiciously for a moment, not sure of her agenda. His brows lowered and his eyes lasered in on her. Maddie was glad she wasn’t under that kind of scrutiny.
“I agree,” Deirdre added, taking everyone, especially Avery, by surprise. “And the metal roof not only reflects heat but has accurate island detail. Of course things are a bit more . . . weathered . . . than they might be in another environment. It’s hard to avoid the elements when you’re completely surrounded by salt water, wind, and hot sun,” she said graciously.
“But then if the house didn’t need any work we wouldn’t be here,” Avery added, getting to the point.
Mother and daughter turned identical blue eyes on the Hightowers.
“Can you give us the tour now, Will?” Deirdre said. “I hardly slept last night from the anticipation of seeing the interior.”
Deirdre tried not to laugh at her daughter’s shock as they stepped inside and took in their surroundings. Dust motes danced in the sunlight that made it through the salt- and grime-caked transom and sidelights. The foyer was wide and high with rooms to each side and a stairway running up one wall, but the air was slightly damp and carried the scent of a load of towels left too long in a washing machine. Or a locker room that had gone too long between cleanings.
The walls were pecky cypress. Solid wood trusses—a triangular web of beams that drew the eye upward—filled the voluminous ceiling. Ahead a sun-infused space beckoned, but Hightower led them into the room just left of the front door, which had been set up as an office. Across from it lay a formal dining room where Deirdre tried—and failed—to picture the rocker sitting at the head of the mahogany table under the cut-glass chandelier hosting a formal meal.