The House on Mermaid Point

by Wendy Wax

  William and Hudson rose, the two from the bar flanking them. The cell phone felt like an anchor in Maddie’s hand.

  The tables around them went quiet. No one moved for a long moment. Then Hudson slung one arm around Dan’s shoulders and the other around Vera’s. One of the guys from the bar moved to stand directly in front of Troy’s camera.

  Dan tried to shrug loose but only managed to hike up his T-shirt, exposing a belly that blinded in its whiteness and should never see the light of day.

  “I can tell you’re not from around here,” Hudson said to Dan and Vera. “Because we have lots of celebrities who live and spend time here. Athletes and presidents and all. And you know why they come here?”

  “For the fishing?” Dan seemed confused by the turn the conversation had taken. Not to mention what looked like the viselike grip Hudson had on him.

  “Well, yeah,” Hudson conceded as if they were all just standing around shooting the breeze. “But also because we just leave them alone. We don’t get in their faces. Or shove drinks on them. And we sure as hell don’t demand pictures or anything else.”

  Maddie watched confusion and indecision pass over Dan’s and Vera’s faces. No one had raised their voice or thrown a punch, but there was no doubt they weren’t about to get any of the things they wanted.

  “Oh, who gives a shit?” Vera said suddenly. “He looks older than dirt anyway. And if she’s what he’s into nowadays, well . . .” Vera shook her head sadly as if the world had become a very sad place indeed. She reached out to grab the camera out of Maddie’s hand and the flash went off.

  “Jesus. Come on, Dan,” the blonde said. “This is bullshit.”

  Hud let go of their shoulders and moved to stand next to Madeline as Dan and Vera huffed off. Given the human wall now aligned in front of him, Maddie doubted Troy was able to get more than a sliver or two of the couple’s retreating backs.

  William shook his head. “Sorry you got caught in that.”

  “I can’t believe the nerve of those people,” Maddie said, bristling with anger. She’d watched the paparazzi trail Daniel Deranian and his wife and had hated it even more when they’d begun to hound Kyra and then Dustin. “They should be ashamed of themselves!”

  “Seems like Dan and Vera are lucky we didn’t set Maddie on them,” William said, considering her.

  “Yeah. That was a pretty impressive blocking maneuver,” Hudson agreed.

  Maddie’s gaze connected with Will’s. The anger coursing through her had burned clear through the last of her discomfort. “The idea that anyone who’s ever bought a movie ticket or a record album would feel entitled to intrude on another person’s life is absolutely ridiculous.” She still couldn’t believe how protective she’d felt when the couple had accosted William Hightower. As if he needed her to run interference for him.

  “Hey, Will,” the bartender said, “I charged that guy double for the drink he offered you. You thirsty?”

  “I’m absolutely parched, darlin’,” Will drawled. He and Hudson exchanged looks. “Can you give it to me in a to-go cup?”

  The bartender smiled. “You got it.”

  Maddie looked at the highball glass, then at William, wondering if the whole “no alcohol on the island” thing was just another wrinkle thrown in by the network. Not that the rocker’s drinking or not drinking was any of her business.

  “One double Coca-Cola on the rocks for the road, coming right up,” the bartender said, taking his glass.

  “You want a ride?” Hudson asked Maddie.

  “No, thanks. I really need to get back to the others,” she said, oddly relieved that William the Wild was not, in fact, drinking liquor. She turned to go as Hudson clapped Will on the back.

  Though he dropped his voice she overheard him when he said, “Very impressive. Six months ago that little encounter would have ended in blows. We would have been peeling old Dano off the ground.”

  Will snorted. “Six months ago I would have enjoyed the fight. Shit. Nothing’s even close to what it used to be.”

  The last words she heard were Hudson’s “Well, thank God for that.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  As if experiencing the altercation at the Lorelei hadn’t been enough Maddie discovered at breakfast the next morning that video of the confrontation had already gone viral.

  “The world was a better place before everyone had a cell phone camera in their pocket and a determination to use it.” Nicole slid into the banquette beside Kyra, who had pulled the video up on her computer screen.

  “Whoever shot this footage wasn’t more than a table away,” Kyra said, watching the ugly scene between William and the obnoxious fan couple play out.

  “I can’t believe we didn’t realize what was going on,” Nicole said.

  “I can’t believe you were right in the middle of it,” Kyra said.

  “There wasn’t much to get in the middle of,” Maddie replied, unable to tear her eyes from the screen.

  “Oh, God, look at this.” Kyra pulled up a clearly homemade interview with the still-belligerent Dan and Vera. Footage of Maddie holding the couple’s phone during the altercation had been cut into the piece. “Whoever put this together has some editing skills. Take a look at this ending.” Kyra turned the screen so that everyone could see the end of the video, which was a series of repeated shots of the flash going off as the blonde grabbed the phone from Maddie. It ended on an incredibly unflattering freeze-frame of Maddie’s surprised face.

  “Great.” Maddie groaned. “I look totally ridiculous and technologically challenged.”

  “Even worse,” Kyra said, rewinding the piece once again. “Given the fact that you’re standing right next to William, I doubt it took anyone who’s seen this more than two minutes to figure out that the next Do Over is taking place on Mermaid Point. The world—and its paparazzi—now knows we’re in Islamorada.”

  After breakfast Avery and Deirdre spread their notes and sketches across the tabletop to prepare for that night’s presentation to William Hightower. Their collaboration after two long years of grappling with each other was startling. The lack of argument, chin tilting, and eyebrow raising was practically surreal.

  Avery looked up to check her watch and caught all of them staring. “Get over it,” she said. “I almost have.”

  Deirdre remained diplomatically silent.

  “What’s this above the refrigerator?” Maddie pointed to one of the floor plans.

  “It’s the staircase, or at least it will be if William approves this plan.” Avery tilted the drawings so Maddie could see them better. “You have way more practical kitchen experience than any of us. Which of these options do you think works better for a B-and-B scenario?”

  Maddie studied the plans individually then slipped one piece of parchment paper under the other so that two of the halves appeared to join. “This would be a pleasure to work in. And I think turning out breakfast and hors d’oeuvres for a daily happy hour or occasional special dessert for the guests would be a snap. And this section”—she pointed to a stretch of counter—“could be outfitted so that guests could help themselves to drinks and coffee, maybe pop popcorn if they’re watching a movie or a big game.”

  Avery nodded and scribbled notes on the parchment while Maddie tried to imagine William Hightower living with a steady stream of strangers invading his personal space. “You know, since we’re already planning to do over the master bedroom and bath and you’ve got so much space up there to work with, maybe we should create a living area with enough of a kitchen so that William wouldn’t have to come down to the communal area unless he wanted to.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Nicole said.

  Avery and Deirdre nodded their agreement.

  “And I was thinking that it might be good to have dinner up at the house with Will tonight before we present the final plans. You know, t
o sort of soften him up a little bit,” Avery said.

  “I offered to make filet of beef au poivre with a spectacular—” Deirdre began.

  “But she can’t because it will probably take us all afternoon to get the presentation laid out,” Avery said, cutting her mother off. “And since someone hadn’t gotten around to asking to use the kitchen or the laundry room, I went ahead and asked Will and . . .” Avery hesitated only briefly before turning her gaze on Maddie. “I volunteered you to make dinner tonight.”

  “Me?” Maddie was hoping she’d misheard.

  “Will you do it, Mad?” Avery practically pleaded. “Hudson said he’d be glad to either take you to your car or pick up whatever you want from the grocery store.”

  “But how will I know what I need without seeing what he has?” Okay, that didn’t sound right. “I mean, without looking in his refrigerator and pantry.”

  Avery shrugged, her attention already back on the sketches. “You have permission to cook in the man’s kitchen, Maddie. I don’t think he’s going to object to you peeking in his pantry.”

  • • •

  Maddie’s peek into William Hightower’s pantry felt far less personal than it might have, had there been anything in it.

  After a smile and nod of greeting, William had returned to the kitchen table, where he went back to doing whatever it was he was doing with the bits and pieces of, well, Maddie wasn’t sure exactly what they were, that spilled out of the tackle box and were spread out in front of him.

  He didn’t look up when she opened his painfully empty pantry or even when she stuck her head into the equally echoing refrigerator, which contained a half-empty quart of milk that had passed its expiration date, an egg carton that held two eggs, jars of mustard and mayonnaise, and what looked like the remains of a pizza. The freezer was stuffed with fish.

  “How do you live?” she asked before she could stop herself.

  “Hm?” He looked up, his long fingers still twisting what looked like a strand of hair around a metal hook. Reading glasses were perched low on his nose, but they didn’t make him look anywhere near as safe or ordinary as they should have.

  “There’s no food here.” She closed the refrigerator and turned to face him. “What do you do for meals?”

  He studied her over the top of the glasses, which was oddly disconcerting.

  “I can always catch fish when I want it. And, I don’t know . . .” He paused as if thinking about this for the first time. “I spent a lot of my life on the road, eating whatever got catered backstage. Or grabbing breakfast in some IHOP or Waffle House late after a show or the parties afterward.” He fixed her with a dark-eyed stare and she tried not to imagine how many women had been at those parties; how far they would have gone to get his attention.

  “I’ve always been more interested in what I drank, smoked, sniffed, or snorted than what I ate.” His smile was wry. “Always been more thirsty than hungry. Except for when I got a case of the munchies.” He shrugged. “I guess my taste buds aren’t all that highly developed.”

  His honesty surprised her and she found herself responding in kind. “Based on your pantry and refrigerator I’d say they stalled out somewhere around the age of fourteen. My son ate Cheerios, grilled cheese sandwiches, and anything that resembled pizza between the ages of fourteen and sixteen, so I know what I’m talking about.”

  “I bet you do,” he said with a faint smile that left her wondering what it was about her that he found so amusing.

  “Avery says you’re okay with letting us use the kitchen and laundry room on occasion.”

  He shrugged.

  “I know all of this is . . . well, I know you don’t really want us around.”

  “I don’t.” He removed the glasses and set them aside. “Yet here you all are. It’s not like banishing you from my kitchen will make you go away.”

  “Okay, then.” She whipped out the paper and pencil she’d stuck in her pocket. “What would you like for dinner tonight?” she asked, hoping it wouldn’t be something beyond her culinary abilities.

  “I’m always up for Italian,” he said. “Do you do spaghetti and meatballs?”

  “Well, I’m more of an assembler than a creator,” she said truthfully. “But if you can live with sauce from a jar and pasta out of a box, I’m pretty sure I can satisfy those fourteen-year-old taste buds of yours.”

  The most genuine smile she’d seen yet lit up his face and stuck with Maddie all the way to the marina, through the grocery store, and back to Mermaid Point.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Hoping that food was in fact the way to this man’s heart—or at least to an open mind—Avery waited to talk business until the table had been cleared and Dustin settled near the pool table with a pile of his favorite toys.

  William Hightower had practically inhaled the spaghetti and meatballs Maddie had made for dinner. He also ate two helpings of Caesar salad and four or five pieces of garlic bread, the smell of which still infused the great room. Although he protested that he was stuffed when the main course had been cleared away, he also ate dessert, which was a do-it-yourself ice cream sundae. He and Dustin, who had climbed into the chair to the right of the rock star and begged to stay there, ate the concoction with almost identical gusto.

  Now she pulled out the plans, set up the makeshift easel, and prepared to begin while Deirdre handed out renovation packets to everyone then came to stand on the opposite side of the easel. Kyra and Troy lifted their video cameras to their shoulders.

  Though she’d hoped that Thomas would be there to help manage his father, she’d had to settle for emailing him a copy of the plans. Now, as she fixed her gaze on William Hightower, Avery heard “Gentlemen, start your engines” in her mind. The thought made her smile and she began. “The primary goal behind all of the suggested renovations is to create eight self-contained guest suites while building in the largest possible buffer and maximum amount of privacy for you.”

  Hightower nodded but he didn’t look anywhere near as interested as he had been when the spaghetti and meatballs were set in front of him. Deirdre gave her an encouraging look as she slipped a large rendering of the exterior of the main house onto the easel. She felt the undercurrent of support and for the first time she welcomed it, even felt comforted by it.

  “We have no plans to change the footprint of the existing structures. For all intents and purposes, this is a remodel.” She turned to the rendering. “As you can see, changes to the main exterior are minimal,” Avery said. “We’ll simply repair and replace damaged and weathered sections of the structure, repaint, and bring more light and view inside. My hope is that the roof will only need to be repaired and not replaced, but we won’t know that for sure until we get the roofers out. I’ll do that as soon as we reach agreement on the plan.”

  She smiled as if his agreement were a foregone conclusion, although the closed look on his face made it clear nothing was foregone or concluded. In truth, Avery wasn’t certain how much agreement was required. Bella Flora had belonged to them and there’d been no network to satisfy. Max Golden had been so grateful to have them in South Beach to nurse the Millicent back to life that he’d never questioned a single decision. “Here you can see the double glass doors in front and the proposed accordion glass doors across the back of the house on both floors, which will both be easier to use and maximize light and view.”

  She glanced again at his face. It gave away nothing. Rendering number two went up.

  “The largest structural change will involve moving the stairs from the foyer to this wall.” Avery pointed to the wall currently behind Hightower. “The kitchen footprint will be changed—we’re going to build around the stove—you can see we’re adding an L here. And the laundry will be moved downstairs to the back hallway, next to a beefed-up powder room that can be accessed from the great room as well as the side porches.

 
; “This will open up the foyer and allow easier access to the two downstairs guest suites.” Avery pointed to the formal dining room and office, each of which now had a closet and private bath.

  If they’d been playing poker right now, she’d have no idea what cards William Hightower had been dealt.

  “Moving the stairs and the laundry room allows us to turn the upstairs front bedrooms into two self-contained suites,” Avery continued.

  Hightower studied the drawing but again said nothing.

  “It also allows us to expand the landing and creates an additional buffer between those suites and yours.” Avery cleared her throat. “We’re also planning to create a kitchenette in the master so that you don’t have to go downstairs for food or drink unless you choose to.”

  Again nothing. If the bed-and-breakfast thing didn’t work out, he could definitely make money on the professional poker circuit. Or impersonating a wax figure at Madame Tussauds.

  Avery kept her eyes on Hightower’s face as Deirdre addressed the design elements of the kitchen, explaining their plan to build in the refrigerator and pantry beneath the stair and upgrade all the appliances to commercial grade while creating a homelike feeling in the common area.

  There was a slight flicker of annoyance in William Hightower’s eyes when Deirdre emphasized the goal of making the guests feel personally invited. “We’ll want sturdy and low maintenance,” she continued. “I’m thinking zinc or concrete countertops, clean-lined cabinets—possibly with a red gloss finish that gives us a pop of color but are easy to wipe down. We’re going for high-end casual, vaguely nautical/fishing camp but with significant creature comforts.”

  “I love it,” Nicole exclaimed. Maddie smiled her encouragement. What William Hightower thought remained a mystery.

  Avery focused on trying to breathe normally as Deirdre placed the sketches of the boathouse on the easel. She was no longer feeling remotely race-car-like but more like a miner trying to blast through a rock mountainside.