by Wendy Wax
“Fifty-five.” It was Horace’s turn to blink. “But if you aren’t . . .”
“Oh, my God!” She leaned closer prepared to choke the life out of him. The man actually thought she was fifty-five. “This is not happening!”
Madeline took Nicole by the arm to restrain her, then paid the now-trembling Horace. “Come on, Nicole,” she said in her mother tone as she maneuvered Nicole and the cart out of the store. “He just needs new glasses. Or maybe cataract surgery.”
The next thing Nicole knew they were in the parking lot heading toward the minivan. She felt vaguely grateful to Madeline for getting her out of there before she hurt Horace or humiliated herself completely. She was even more grateful that Madeline didn’t crack a smile.
Madeline fought back the smile as she helped Nicole into the van and tossed the groceries in the back.
On Pasadena Avenue Nicole stared mutely out the window, her face arranged in the oddest expression. She didn’t say a word when Madeline’s cell phone rang.
Madeline pulled her cell phone out of her purse. Caller ID simply said Home.
“Hello,” she said as Nicole continued to stare out the window.
“Mom?” Kyra sounded closer to three than twenty-three. There was a pronounced quiver in her voice. Madeline’s heart did the flip-flop it always did when one of her children was in distress.
“What is it, Kyra?” Madeline asked. “Are you all right?”
Nicole turned at that, pulled momentarily from her misery.
“Daniel’s publicist called me today,” Kyra said.
“His publicist?” Stopped at a red light, Madeline watched an old man in madras shorts and navy blue ankle socks hobble across the street.
Kyra sniffed. “He called to tell me that if I heard from the media in any way that I wasn’t supposed to say anything but ‘no comment’; that I was just an assistant on the movie Daniel’s making and that we only knew each other to say hello on set.”
The car behind Madeline honked. She accelerated slowly, surprised to see that a motorized wheelchair on the sidewalk was moving faster than the cars in front of her. “Why would anyone be calling you, Kyra? I thought you said no one knew”—she glanced over at Nicole, who had her head back against the headrest and her eyes closed, but who seemed to be listening—“anything.”
“Because Tonja did some interview with People magazine and said that there are always rumors about infidelity on movie sets, sometimes even between big stars and unimportant gofers, but that she and Daniel were in it for the long haul.” There was another loud sniff. “And that they were thinking about going to Haiti to adopt a couple of those poor, parentless children.”
Madeline drove over the Corey Causeway and turned onto Gulf Boulevard. Nicole’s eyes stayed closed.
“And what does ‘D’ say about that?”
Kyra’s voice got wobblier and more pitiful. “I don’t know. He hasn’t called me. I don’t really understand why.”
“Awww, honey,” Madeline said. “I’m sure . . .” She stopped, not actually sure of anything, least of all whether a megastar like Daniel Deranian might actually feel anything other than lust for a young girl like Kyra.
“And I can’t take it here another minute, Mom. Daddy just lies on the couch all day and lets Grandma take care of him. It’s awful. How long are you going to be gone?”
Madeline drove down Gulf Boulevard, staying in the right lane so she could enjoy the flashes of beach between hotels, comforted by the sway of the palms and the slower pace with which everything, including traffic, seemed to move.
“It looks like I could be here most of the summer, Ky. We’re trying to finish the renovation by Labor Day so that we can put it up for sale right afterward.”
Kyra didn’t speak, but Madeline could feel her misery reaching out though the airwaves. She didn’t know if there was any long-term solution other than to hunker down and do what needed to be done, but she couldn’t break this connection with her daughter without offering . . . something.
Nicole’s eyes fluttered open and she turned her gaze out the passenger window; Madeline had the sense she was trying to give her privacy, but it wasn’t like she could leave the car. Or stop listening. Avery’s suggestion about making a video of the house came to mind and Madeline said, “Why don’t you come down here and help us, Kyra? It’s beautiful and quiet. You could kind of regroup and figure out how to proceed.” Just like Madeline, who felt as if she’d run away from home. “Avery asked if you’d shoot some ‘before’ video for us anyway.”
“Who’s Avery?”
“One of the other owners. She’s half of the on-camera team on an HGTV show called Hammer and Nail.”
“The one Grandma watches all the time?”
“That’s the one,” Madeline said. “She’s really nice. And Nicole, our other partner, is . . .” She looked up as Nicole stopped pretending she wasn’t listening in. Their eyes met. “Nicole is interesting. She’s a professional matchmaker, but just a wee bit touchy about her age.”
Nicole returned her gaze out the window, but a small smile hovered on her lips. Madeline smiled, too, as she thought about the dynamics at Camp Bella Flora.
“If you don’t mind a mattress on the floor, there’s plenty of room.”
“But what would I do there?” Kyra asked.
“I don’t know, Kyra.” Madeline didn’t have the energy to expend on persuasion. “What are you doing there?”
“Good point,” her daughter said.
“I’m pretty sure your dad has some frequent flier miles left over that you could use. Text me and let me know when you’re coming and I’ll meet you at the Tampa airport.”
They passed the Don CeSar, which she’d already begun simply to think of as “the castle,” and continued past the warren of tiny streets until she could make the turn onto Gulf Way. The sea oats swayed atop their dunes and she knew the carpet of white sand was still warming under the afternoon sun.
“Do it, Kyra. We could use your help, and I think you’ll like it here.”
She shot a look at Nicole, who nodded in assent. Surely this was the last place anybody in the media would come looking for Kyra or anybody else.
That evening the breeze off the water was warm but soothing; the fronds of the palm trees stirred gently. Avery sat staring out over the pass. She had a big slash of dirt across one cheek and pieces of cobwebs stuck in her hair. Madeline thought they looked like a matched set.
Tonight’s hors d’oeuvres was Ted Peter’s smoked fish spread on crackers with hot sauce on the side. They weren’t exactly homemade, but everyone but Avery considered them a step up from Cheez Doodles. The drink of the evening was rum and Coke.
“I had one celebrity, who shall remain nameless,” Nicole said when pumped for stories about her high-profile clients, “who wouldn’t consider dating anyone who’d ever eaten a green M&M. And another who was such a militant vegan that he wouldn’t go out with anyone who’d eaten meat in the last year and a half.” She reached for her drink and took a small sip. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to verify those things?” Nicole asked. “Almost as difficult as who is and who isn’t a natural blonde.”
“Wow,” Avery said, a drink in her hand, her gaze out over the Gulf. “And that matters because . . .”
“That client wanted children with blonde hair and blue eyes. And he was afraid that if the woman he planned to marry wasn’t a real blonde, it might not happen.”
“Eeew,” Avery said. “It sounds awfully Aryan. Maybe you should have fixed him up with a test tube so that he could clone himself.” She set her drink down and reached for the hot sauce. “How did you come up with a definitive answer?”
Nicole smiled. “Well, it turned out the woman and I had the same hairdresser. And since only your hairdresser knows for sure . . .”
“Very sneaky,” Madeline said, “but effective. Hairdressers are the repositories of all kinds of personal information. Just like cleaning people. Did you deal with
a lot of celebrities?” she asked as casually as she could.
“Yes,” Nicole said. “But the celebrities weren’t any flakier or more demanding than the really wealthy CEOs and trust funders. The more money, the more demands. That’s the way it generally works.”
Madeline settled as comfortably as she could in her beach chair; the neon-colored straps had started to mold to her bottom. “Did you ever run across Daniel Deranian?” she asked in what she hoped was a nonchalant tone.
“Now there’s a good-looking man,” Nicole said, relaxing back in her chair. “I ran into him a few times out in L.A. on the party circuit; he definitely didn’t need my matchmaking services.” She smiled ruefully. “But that wife of his, Tonja, now that woman is a piece of work.” Nicole shook her head. “And that is not a compliment.”
“In what way?” Madeline asked, hoping it was something as trivial as an M&M color bias.
“The woman is like a steamroller,” Nikki said. “If you get in her way, she’ll just knock you down and squash you flat.”
So much for the M&M’S.
They fell silent for a while, watching the sunset and sipping their drinks. Madeline spent the time trying to imagine Kyra in Daniel Deranian and Tonja Kay’s world and failing miserably. Nicole, yes; Kyra, no. Shifting again in search of a more comfortable position, Madeline turned to Avery. “We could use a little more furniture,” she said. “Could you ask Chase if his father has anything else stashed in storage?”
“Sorry,” Avery said. “But I am not asking Chase Hardin for anything I don’t have to.” She turned to Nicole. “You’re the persuader. Will you give him a call?”
“Sure,” Nicole said, standing. “But right now I’m going to have a shower; the one I shouldn’t have gone out into the world without.”
“Poor Nicole,” Avery teased. “That cashier must have been legally blind. You don’t look a day over fifty-four.”
“Thanks so much.” Nicole’s tone was dry. “After my shower, I’m going in search of Wi-Fi. If I can’t pick it up in any of the hotel parking lots, I’m going to take my laptop to that cybercafe I saw.” She picked up the remains of her rum and Coke. “And just for that comment you are definitely not invited.”
Avery slapped at a mosquito. “I’ll consider myself rebuked.”
Madeline picked up what was left of the crackers and spread. Avery grabbed the bottle of hot sauce as they prepared to go inside.
“You know, if we’re going to be here until September, we might want to think about putting in cable so we can at least hook up a TV and access the Internet,” Madeline said. “I can see what kind of rate they’ve got if we bundle both services.”
“Good idea,” Avery said and once again Madeline felt herself flush with pleasure. Which made her realize just how long it had been since her family had complimented her or even noticed the things she did to make their lives run more smoothly.
“Before we go in, I want to share a good thing,” Madeline said, raising her glass to the others. “I spoke to my daughter earlier and I think she’s going to come down and help us out for a while.”
They clinked their glasses, or perhaps “click” was the better word for the sound of plastic on plastic.
“That’s great,” Avery said. “The more grunts the better.”
Madeline aimed a look at Nicole, who gave her one back.
“I don’t know,” Nicole said. “This was not a particularly great day; there aren’t a whole lot of good moments to choose from.”
“It doesn’t have to be great,” Avery said.
“And you only need one good thing,” Madeline agreed. “There must have been at least one.”
Nicole shook her head, but Madeline could see she was thinking.
“All right,” Nicole finally said. “I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t perform cataract surgery on the cashier in the middle of the grocery store like I wanted to.”
There was laughter as they clinked their glasses again. “A very good thing,” Madeline said as they turned to Avery.
“Let me see.” Avery paused, her head cocked. “All right, the good thing is that we’re just about done with the preliminary cleaning.”
A cheer went up.
“I’ll drink to that,” Nicole said.
“Me, too!” Madeline clinked and drank the rest of her rum and Coke then raised her empty glass up into the air.
“The bad thing,” Avery said once the cheers had faded away, “is that Chase Hardin will be on site full time as of tomorrow. It’s time to kick this job into higher gear.”
Fourteen
Avery awoke to the gnashing of gears and the rattle of a big truck. These were followed by shouts and the sound of a huge metal object landing on an even harder surface. She jumped up and peered out. Directly beneath her window stood Chase Hardin and a newly delivered Dumpster. Racing out her door to the bathroom, Avery skidded to a stop behind Nicole, who was already dressed. Avery was still wearing Trent’s castoff T-shirt that she slept in and could tell by the look on Nicole’s face that she must have an especially virulent case of bed head.
“I just need to use the toilet and then wash my face. Can I jump in there ahead of you?”
“That’s all I’m doing, Avery,” Nicole said. “That’s all any of us ever have time to do.” She tapped her foot impatiently. “But go ahead. Chase is here. And I wouldn’t want you to have to do combat on a full bladder.”
“Thanks.” Avery stepped forward and rapped lightly on the door.
“Just a sec,” Madeline called from the bathroom. Outside the truck drove off in another grinding of gears. Others arrived. There was a clatter of metal and more shouts.
The doorbell rang, which was apparently just a courtesy because less than a heartbeat later footsteps echoed in the foyer.
“Vanna?” Chase’s voice carried up the stairs. “Time to rise and shine!”
“A little warning would have been nice,” Avery grumbled.
“No kidding. And given the look on your face, you might want to take an extra thirty seconds to brush your teeth,” Nicole said. “Just in case you have to get in Chase’s face.”
“Ha,” Avery said. “I should stay just the way I am so he can see what this stupid plumbing schedule of his is doing to us. But then that’s probably part of his fiendish plan.”
“Don’t worry, it’s kind of hard to miss the ramifications.” Nicole looked Avery up and down, which was when Avery realized how not dressed she was.
“Be right back!” In her room she pawed through her suitcase and the pile beside it until she found a pair of cutoffs and wiggled into them. She got back just as Madeline vacated the bathroom.
“I’m in desperate need . . .” Avery began.
Madeline smiled. “I’ll have a pot ready by the time you come down.”
Avery drew a deep breath as she sailed into the bathroom and raced through what barely qualified as a “toilet.” Chase was already in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee when she got there. An opened box of glazed doughnuts sat on the kitchen table. Madeline put a cup of coffee in her hand.
Chase looked her over, starting with her bare feet and working up her bare legs past the sleep shirt to the hair that she couldn’t remember combing. “Gee, I didn’t mean to pull you out of bed,” he said.
Avery raised her hand and turned the palm toward him.
“What?”
“We try not to talk to her more than necessary until she’s finished her first cup,” Madeline explained as she picked up the box of doughnuts and held it out to Avery.
Avery took a doughnut and bit into it, sighing with pleasure as the warm sugar melted in her mouth and mingled with the coffee. She drained the cup and held it out to Madeline for more, finishing off the doughnut in a few quick bites.
Chase cleared his throat. “Hello?”
Fortified, and now fully awake, Avery turned to face him and was immediately irritated by his freshly shaved face and still-damp hair. He was too attractive und
er the best of circumstances but the fact that he was showered and groomed struck her as grossly unfair.
“The scaffolding is being unloaded and as you probably heard, the Dumpster’s in place,” he said. “That means it’s time to start getting rid of anything we’re not keeping. And that includes . . .”
“The wallpapers in the downstairs and upstairs baths, the carpet in the master, the ruined baseboards in the salon and the kitchen, and probably most of what’s in the garage,” Avery finished.
A gratifying look of surprise flitted across his face. “Um, yeah,” he said.
“And I’m assuming it must be about time for Enrico to come back and finish up the roof,” she commented as if they were having an actual conversation.
“Yeah. He’ll be here in a couple days.”
“So we’re expecting him on . . . ?”
“Um, Thursday. First thing.”
“Good. Now about the bathroom situation,” Avery began. “Why don’t we . . .”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” Chase said. “I need Robby to go through the entire system thoroughly and that takes time. If you want him done faster, I suggest you stop feeding and mothering him.” He shot Madeline a look that sent her off to wipe the far end of the counter.
“But . . .” Avery began.
“No, no buts,” Chase said. “We don’t really have time for buts.”
She closed her eyes briefly, searching for inner strength. She didn’t understand his attitude or the obvious chip on his shoulder he brought to every conversation they had. Opening her eyes, she stared into his vibrant blue ones and saw just how eager he was to put her in her place. She told herself not to engage, but this was so much easier thought than done.
“I’d like to discuss who’s going to do what when it’s time to move into the next phase,” she said. “For instance, I think Madeline should do the re-glazing—she’s the most patient and detail oriented. When we get the doors down, I can teach Nicole how to do the stripping and I can refinish. That way . . .”