Ten Beach Road

by Wendy Wax

  “I understand that you’re not wild to have me here,” Deirdre said. “I freely admit I haven’t been much of a mother, and certainly not the mother you deserved.”

  She paused, looking at her daughter.

  “If you’re waiting for an argument from me, you’re going to be waiting a long damned time,” Avery said. “I don’t know why you’ve pushed your way into this project, but you’re not going to be able to design yourself back into my life, Deirdre. It’s way too late for that.”

  Maddie watched Avery toss salvos at her mother and wondered if they hurt Deirdre as much as Kyra’s hurt her. The designer didn’t flinch, but that said more about her self-control than her feelings.

  Madeline had always been Kyra and Andrew’s mother first; it was how she’d thought of herself and how the rest of the world had defined her. She’d been there for her children and always would be. But did that mean she had to pretend that she was unequivocally happy that Kyra was pregnant? Did being supportive demand that she also keep silent?

  “I just don’t think Kyra realizes how huge a responsibility this is going to be or how completely it will change her life. And to do it all alone . . .” Maddie’s voice trailed off at the enormity of it.

  Kyra’s face closed, her shoulders stiffened.

  “Your mother’s right,” Nicole said quietly. “Being a single parent is one of the hardest things there is. It’s huge.”

  “Surely the baby’s father will accept responsibility?” Chase said, not sounding sure at all. He tossed the last granola wrapper in the trash and poured himself another cup of coffee. “If he doesn’t understand how many people it takes to create a child, I’ll be happy to explain it to him.”

  Maddie blinked in surprise and saw a similar expression on Avery’s face.

  “You all don’t need to be talking about me as if I’m not here,” Kyra said. “I’m here. And I’m sure the father of my child will want to be involved.”

  Madeline closed her eyes against Kyra’s childlike certainty. She’d had the same tone in her voice at seven when she’d insisted on staying up all night to catch a glimpse of the tooth fairy. And at thirteen when she’d been convinced that the animated short she’d managed to shoot and cut together, could, in fact, be entered in the Sundance Film Festival. “Kyra, please,” Maddie whispered. “It’s not a good idea to mention that . . .”

  Kyra got up from the table and stood where everyone could see her. “What my mother doesn’t want me to tell you—or anyone—is that Daniel Deranian is the father of my child.”

  If anyone’s attention had been about to wander, that simple statement brought all eyes and ears back to Kyra. Nicole winced, but didn’t speak.

  “Daniel Deranian, the actor?” Avery asked.

  Kyra nodded. “My mother’s convinced that because he’s a celebrity I can’t possibly mean anything to him. She believes that I was a . . . convenience . . . on the set and that he has no feelings for me and certainly no honorable intentions.” Her jaw tightened. “That’s how much my mother thinks of me.”

  “I never said that,” Madeline protested. “I only . . .”

  “I happen to know that Daniel loves me. And I know he’ll want to be a part of our lives.” Kyra’s hand slipped to her rounding stomach.

  Madeline stole a look at the now-familiar faces around them and saw everything from surprise to the same doubt she felt. Kyra was just too young to see her situation ending in anything less than a happily ever after.

  “Daniel will be on the next plane here. Or sending his private jet to pick me up.” She smiled the confident smile of a foolish child. “Just as soon as I get through to him.”

  Madeline could hardly bear to contemplate what would happen when and if Kyra actually got through to Deranian. The man was used to people covering for and taking care of him, and he did, in fact, have a wife regardless of where she’d chosen to live.

  “I’d be careful not to get on the wrong side of Tonja Kay,” Nicole said. “That woman has a reputation for being even stronger in person than she is in the roles she plays.”

  “Well,” Madeline said, drawing another angry glare from her daughter, “until that plane arrives I think it would be best if we keep this information to ourselves.”

  Kyra grabbed her camera and left the kitchen, clearly incensed. Maddie followed her, hoping to smooth things over, but not until she’d gotten a nod of agreement from the others. Though, of course, a nod of silence wasn’t exactly binding.

  But then, what was?

  Twenty-four

  “What was that?” Nicole leaped out of bed and raced to the window. She stared out not over the bay where the sun was still inching upward but down into the front garden where an army seemed to be massing. An army of people with white hair and really bad taste in clothing. She heard footsteps in the hall and threw open her door but knew she was too late when the bathroom door slammed shut. Avery and Madeline already stood in line. Five women and one bathroom belonged in the category of cruel and inhuman punishment. This house needed to be closed down like Gitmo.

  Maddie shot her an apologetic smile.

  “We let Kyra go ahead since she’s pregnant,” Avery said, not looking at all put out. But then she was first in line.

  “Good God. I’d get pregnant myself if it would get me to the front of the bathroom line,” Nikki muttered.

  “I don’t think you can do that yourself. Didn’t we establish that the other day in the kitchen?” Deirdre came out of the master bedroom fully dressed and made-up. If Nikki hadn’t personally delivered the master bathroom hardware to the King of Chrome, she would have suspected the designer of secretly convincing Robby to get her bathroom up and running. Through the closed bedroom door, Nikki could hear the whir of the window air conditioner Deirdre had had delivered and installed.

  “The fact that I haven’t chosen to reproduce doesn’t mean I don’t know how the equipment works,” Nikki replied. “Or how a seed gets planted.” She moved closer to the fixed window above the front door. “Speaking of which, how long have Renée Franklin and her garden ladies been here?”

  The army had spread out to attack different sections of the garden. John Franklin sat on a camp chair that had been placed near the fountain, a smile on his face as he watched his wife command her battalion.

  “Mrs. Franklin wanted to get started before it got too hot,” Avery said. “I don’t think a single one of them is under seventy-five. They’ll fill in with some new plantings after the house has been pressure washed and painted.”

  Nicole moved down the hall to peer out the rear windows above the loggia; that was the one advantage in being last in line—she didn’t need to hold on to her spot. Only her bladder. “Good God, that woman is climbing up that tree. I think she’s got a . . .”

  The whir of an electric saw drifted up to them followed by the crash of a limb landing on concrete. There were a few “whoo-whoo-whoos” punctuated by surprisingly vigorous arm pumps and a lot of swinging arm flesh. The saw whirred again and another limb dropped into the empty crater of concrete in the center of the back patio.

  “I guess it’s a good thing the pool hasn’t been done yet,” Deirdre said beside her.

  “Right. Just like it’s a good thing we only have one bathroom because it cuts down on the cleaning.” Nikki narrowed her gaze on the immaculate Deirdre. “We do still only have one bathroom, right?”

  Deirdre just smiled. “Of course,” she said. But Nikki vowed to make sure. Avery wasn’t the only one suspicious of her mother’s motives. Or maybe Nikki’s nose was just out of joint because Deirdre had proved even better at getting others to do her bidding than Nikki was herself.

  Down below, the garden ladies continued to swarm over the property, cutting and pulling and weeding; each sure movement confirming that despite their advanced ages they were neither frail nor timid.

  “Wow,” Avery whispered. “Look at her go.” Renée moved from group to group in a most un-Vanna-like way—a commander
with a clear mission in mind. Occasionally she went back to her husband for a moment or two like a sun responding to gravitational pull. And then she was back at it, her husband’s admiring gaze following her wherever she went.

  Nikki saw the sheen of tears in Avery’s eyes and felt the telltale prickle behind her own eyelids as she witnessed the couple’s obvious connection. Good grief! She swiped at them with the back of her hand as Madeline came out of the bathroom fully dressed.

  “Jesus,” Madeline said. “I haven’t had a period in six months. I thought I was done.” She shook her head, disgusted. “It must be the stress. I’m not sure whose tampons those were, but I’ll buy some to replace what I borrowed.”

  “No problem,” Avery and Nikki said at the same time, then the three of them looked at each other.

  Nikki groaned. “This is what happens when you have a group of women living in such close quarters; everybody’s cycles start syncing up. I feel like I’m in the middle of Anita Diamant’s The Red Tent.”

  “Don’t look at me,” Deirdre said. “I am way over that. But it may explain some of the whacked-out behavior over the last week. A pregnant girl and three PMSers? Somebody should warn Chase and his guys to tread lightly. Thank God there are no weapons in the house.”

  “You know how much it hurts me to agree with you,” Avery said as she moved toward the now-vacant bathroom. “But you got that right.”

  Maddie sighed and headed for the back stairs. “I guess I’ll mix up a couple of pitchers of lemonade to hydrate the troops.”

  “Well, whatever you do don’t piss them off,” Nicole said. “Even the smallest of them seems to have major muscle and some of them have power tools.”

  After what felt like an eternity, Avery finally came out of the bathroom. With a nod, she went down the front stairs. The bathroom was Nikki’s at last. Hers, all hers!

  She raced in, locking the door behind her, and claimed the toilet. She sighed in sheer relief; the word “hallelujah” formed in her brain.

  Heavy footsteps sounded outside and there was a knock on the bathroom door. “Ma’am?” The voice belonged to Robby the plumber. “I have to turn off the water! It’ll only be for about an hour.”

  Nikki washed her hands in the sink and yanked open the door. “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said with a shake of her head. “I’ve been waiting for way too long, and I just now got in here.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am.” That’s how young the plumber was. She was a “ma’am” in his eyes. “But . . .”

  She looked him in the eye. He was very sweet, respectful, and earnest. Chase insisted he came from a long line of plumbers and knew what he was doing. At the moment none of those things mattered in the least. She reached out and grabbed a handful of Robby’s T-shirt and pulled him closer. “You can’t turn off the water right now, Robby. We only have one working bathroom. Which includes one sink. And one toilet. And one shower. For all five of us. And I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet.” Something he undoubtedly now knew given how close they were standing.

  He swallowed. She actually watched the excruciatingly slow movement of his Adam’s apple.

  “You can’t shut off the water until I’m done. I need to use this bathroom. I will use this bathroom.”

  “There’s a Port-O-Let outside, Miz Grant,” he said, trying not to show his fear. “You could . . .”

  “No,” she assured him. “I most definitely could not.”

  She got a tighter grip on his shirt and pulled his face up to hers. She was vaguely aware that someone had come up behind him. “You will not even think about turning off that water for the next thirty minutes. If you make one move toward the water line, I’ll come and find you. And it won’t be pretty.”

  Robby blanched; his face turned white. That was when she heard Joe Giraldi’s voice. “It’s not worth your life, boy,” he said quietly. “You definitely don’t want to stand between a desperate woman and her toilette.” He said it in the French manner and with an annoyingly taunting smile in his voice.

  A red haze formed in front of Nikki’s eyes. “What are you,” she asked Giraldi, never taking her eyes off the nervous plumber, “a hostage negotiator?”

  “Only if I need to be.” Giraldi took her hand and pried Robby’s T-shirt out of it. She could feel his gaze locked on her; hers remained on Robby.

  “Why don’t you go on downstairs and I’ll let you know when it’s safe to turn off the water?” Giraldi said to Robby in the same “let’s not get anyone killed” tone. “Go on,” he said when the young man didn’t move. “I’ll give you the all-clear when it’s safe.”

  Robby hotfooted it downstairs. Nikki and Giraldi stood face-to-face. Or in their case, face to chest. She tried not to think about how she looked or what she might smell like.

  “Is he even a real plumber?” she demanded. “Or have you had some FBI trainee screwing around with our pipes? Because I think that would make what I’m thinking about justifiable homicide.”

  “Robby’s the real deal,” Giraldi said in that same calm, infuriating voice. “I’m just ‘assisting’ him today. If you behave yourself you may have a second bathroom up and running soon.”

  “You’ve just been playing with us, haven’t you? It’s some sort of bizarre bathroom deprivation technique. I bet all the guys in the trench coats and dark sunglasses got a big chuckle out of that!”

  He smiled. “Maybe a few grins, but the plumbing issues are real. Definitely not our doing.”

  She took a deep breath trying to calm herself, but there was no real calm to be found.

  “I just wanted to talk to you, and I didn’t want it to look suspicious in case your brother’s watching,” Giraldi continued.

  “Malcolm?” she asked. “You think Malcolm’s close enough to see us?” She laughed somewhat hysterically even as she wondered if that could be true.

  “It’s unlikely,” he conceded, “but possible.”

  “And how many different work people do you think you can pretend to be before someone else notices? You’ve been a cable guy, a fisherman-turned-mover, and now a plumber. How many jobs you don’t know how to perform can you possibly use as cover?”

  “Oh, I know how to do all those things,” he said. “They just don’t happen to be what I do for a living.”

  She leaned in to him, not because she was drawn to, but because she wanted to crowd him in the way his mere existence crowded her. She looked him right in the eyes, the dark intelligent ones, and wished he were older or far younger. Or uglier. He was way too good-looking for someone so dangerous. Agent Joe Giraldi was like her very own personal Venus flytrap.

  “We know you’ve been trying to reach him,” he said, stepping neither back nor forward.

  “Then you also know he hasn’t responded. And probably never will.”

  His look sharpened, and she wondered again if he knew about the message Malcolm had sent. Not that it had proven particularly helpful or clarified anything.

  “Look, there are a lot of people at the agency who think you’re in this with him.”

  “Does that include you?”

  He looked like he didn’t want to answer.

  “Does it?”

  She could see him considering his answer. Finally he said, “You’re still a ‘subject of interest,’ but I think you’ve been duped like everybody else. I think he’s an ungrateful bastard given everything you did for him. But our forensic accountant and financial analyst are tracking the money, and there’s an arrest warrant at NCIC and Interpol. It’s just a matter of time before we catch up with him. I’d like to see you end up on the right side of this mess.”

  “Is that a warning?” she asked even as she realized she was standing far too close. She was relieved when he dropped back a step and leaned against the wall.

  He shrugged. “He’s been spotted in Florida. He hasn’t landed anywhere for long, but we have reports of him in the Keys and in the Florida panhandle. Does either of those areas mean anything to you or your brother?
”

  It took everything Nikki had not to react, but she couldn’t help thinking of that long ago Thanksgiving.

  “If you know something, you need to share it,” Giraldi said. “You can’t possibly think he deserves to go free after ruining so many people. That money doesn’t belong to him. And the longer it takes us to catch him, the less of it there will be left.”

  She studied him for a long moment, trying to see past the good looks and the focused determination. Special Agent Joe Giraldi was a force to be reckoned with. As was the Federal Bureau of Investigation. It was highly unlikely she could reach Malcolm without Giraldi and his people knowing it; it seemed even less likely she could find him without their help.

  Once her brother had been everything to her. Even now, as angry and disappointed in him as she was, he was the only family she had. She didn’t want to set Malcolm up for capture; she wanted to get to him first so that she could convince him to turn himself in and return the money. It was far too late to prevent all the harm he’d done, the lives he’d ruined, but she desperately wanted him to do at least some semblance of the “right thing.” Giraldi might never knowingly give her that chance, but he might well locate Malcolm before she could.

  “I’ll tell you what,” she said as she looked into the agent’s clear dark eyes. “Let’s stop all the cloak-and-dagger stuff. You say you’re handy? We can use some more hands on this job. That way you can watch for Malcolm.” And she could watch him. “I for one don’t expect him to show his face here, but I guess you never know.”

  “You want me to work on your house,” he said, straightening. “With you.”

  “Sure, why not?” she asked. “You’re here half the time anyway. As a taxpayer, I’m probably already paying your salary. And while we’re working together I’ll decide whether I can trust you or not.”

  “And then?” he asked with a look in his eyes that made her think maybe that flytrap was about to slam shut. “Then you’ll help us catch your brother?”

  “If you find him, I’ll talk to him,” she said, careful not to give away too much.