by Wendy Wax
“What about what the psychologist said? Do you think it’s a delayed reaction to losing his mother? Or the pressure of having all those college baseball scouts watching and judging him?” she asked. “Maybe an intervention would—”
“Don’t,” he said quietly. “Just don’t.”
“But I hate seeing you carrying all this alone,” she said. “I wish you’d let me help.”
He sighed. “It’s just the way it is. He’s my responsibility. You don’t need to worry about it.” He leaned down to kiss her, and the resignation and misery that laced his words were even more painful than his anger. Whether he snapped or sighed, the result was the same, she reflected as she watched Chase and his father leave; the door was firmly shut and she was left standing outside.
“I’ll be back at Bella Flora in time for sunset,” Nikki called out as Joe helped her into the SUV, where his parents and grandmother were already seated. She and Joe were moving into their unit at the Sunshine Hotel in the morning, something Nikki didn’t look at all excited about.
Steve and Troy loaded Dustin into Troy’s car for a trip to the playground and then to Gigi’s Italian Restaurant for pizza.
“You know, it would take about ten seconds to Google Bitsy and find out what’s going on,” Avery said as she climbed into the backseat of the minivan and waited for Kyra to fire it up.
“No,” Maddie said.
“Obviously, something’s happened,” Kyra agreed as she circled the block then turned south toward Bella Flora.
“And if she wanted us to know what it was, she’d tell us,” Maddie countered.
“But even if something did happen between them, why would she be the one who left?” Avery couldn’t help asking. “I mean, it’s all her money, right? And why take the cottage when the Don CeSar, which is clearly more her style, is practically next door?”
“Again, not our business,” Maddie insisted.
This might be true, but thinking about Bitsy’s problems and possible motivations was a lot less stressful than examining her own. “Well, I don’t see how we can just pretend she happened to show up with a mountain of luggage and a depressed bulldog,” Avery countered. “And I don’t appreciate being steamrolled.”
“Bitsy’s been a good friend to us. It’s time to return the favor,” Maddie said.
“I know she and Nikki have a history and she has been helpful, but Avery’s right. We are being steamrolled,” Kyra said as she cut across to Gulf Way and bits of beach began to flash by. “Handing over a unit is a big deal, given that none of us have been paid back. And we should ask for Renée and Annelise’s permission. I think we have every right to know what’s going on.”
“I’m not saying we can’t ask. I just think it’s wrong to force information out of a friend before she’s ready.” Maddie’s tone was reflective.
“So we’re going to pretend like nothing’s happened?” Avery asked. “Frankly, I don’t think I’m that good an actress.”
“You’re not,” Kyra agreed. “And I’ve got the video to prove it.”
Maddie smiled. “I didn’t say we have to pretend nothing’s happened.”
“No?” Avery said.
“No. I said I don’t believe in forcing things. That doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with making someone so comfortable they want to share what’s bothering them.”
“We don’t have a lot of time to gain her confidence and make her comfortable enough to share,” Avery pointed out. “We can’t leave her in that model indefinitely, and we definitely can’t afford to build out a unit for her in the top-of-the-line finishes she’s going to expect, especially not now. Maybe once more units have sold and we see what happens with the network.”
“Oh, I don’t think it will take all that long,” Maddie said as they passed Eighth Avenue, which served as Pass-a-Grille’s main street.
“No?” Kyra asked.
“Nope,” Maddie said with confidence.
“And how do you intend to make her that comfortable quickly?” Avery asked.
“I’m going to put her at ease the old-fashioned way,” Maddie replied.
“Which is?” Kyra asked.
“Otherwise known as plying her with alcohol,” Avery said wryly.
Maddie shrugged good-naturedly.
“What makes you think that’s going to work?” Kyra asked as they neared the southern tip of Pass-a-Grille.
“Well, when Will’s record label flew Bitsy, Nikki, and me up to Will’s concert in North Carolina, we discovered that alcohol is Bitsy’s sodium pentathol—her truth serum. She doesn’t get sloppy or anything, but it pretty much eliminates her filter.”
“Well, we need to find out what’s going on and why she’s here,” Kyra said to Maddie. “How many drinks do you think it will take?”
“That’s the part I’m not sure about,” Maddie admitted. “But Nikki won’t be drinking, so she can play bartender. Her number one job will be making sure that Bitsy’s glass is always full.”
“I guess that could work,” Avery said. “Besides, she’s wound so tightly that getting a little tipsy and sharing whatever’s going on is bound to make her feel better. It’s practically therapy.”
“True, but we’re going to have to drink with her,” Kyra said as she pulled the minivan into Bella Flora’s bricked drive. “Otherwise she’ll get suspicious.”
“I’m prepared to have a few drinks for a good cause,” Avery said. “We’ll spend a couple hours and let Bitsy get things off her chest. We’re not talking The Lost Weekend or anything. How much alcohol could Bitsy Baynard possibly consume?”
Seven
As it turned out, Bitsy Baynard could consume quite a lot of alcohol as she was only too willing to demonstrate. She and Sherlock arrived shortly before sunset looking haggard. Bitsy’s long face was blotchy, her eyes were red, and her straight blond hair had been pulled back into a low ponytail. She wore jeans and a brand-new Sunshine Hotel sweatshirt. The massive diamond engagement ring that she’d always worn paired with a diamond-studded band had been replaced by a plain gold wedding band.
“I hope you don’t mind that I brought Sherlock,” Bitsy said. “He’s really always been more Bertrand’s dog than mine.” Her voice broke slightly on her husband’s name. “But he’s in a completely new environment, and I didn’t have the heart to leave him behind.”
“No problem. Where did you say Bertie is?” Maddie asked as casually as she could.
“Oh, overseas on business,” Bitsy said vaguely. “I’m not completely sure where all he’s going.”
“Come on back. Nikki’s whipping us up some piña coladas and Avery’s putting together the hors d’oeuvres.” Maddie led her down the central hallway to the Casbah Lounge with its leaded windows, Moorish tiles, and red leather banquettes. “Not fancy ones, of course, but since Avery’s in charge, you can count on an abundance of fake cheese products.”
Avery smiled hello. A large bowl of Cheez Doodles and a plate of celery stuffed with pimiento cheese sat on the bar. “Don’t listen to anything they tell you. I don’t only eat things made with cheese, I just happen to prefer them.” Avery began to arrange plates and bowls on a large tray. “Tonight we’ve got bagel bites, miniature hot dogs wrapped in pastry, the last of the Ted Peters smoked fish spread, which is absolute perfection on crackers with just a drop or two of Tabasco.”
“Sounds like a feast,” Bitsy said, taking a seat at the bar.
Sherlock snuffled and settled on the floor next to Bitsy’s stool. Nikki pulsed the blender.
“It does seem kind of cruel to make someone who can’t drink be the bartender,” Bitsy observed.
“Not a problem,” Nikki said. “Honestly, the last thing on my mind at the moment is alcohol. Well, maybe not the very last. It comes somewhere after sex. But nowhere near sleeping through the night, not having to pee every five minutes, and
being able to wear clothes instead of tents. And . . . sorry. Didn’t mean to get all whiny. I just feel like I’ve been pregnant forever. And I don’t own a single article of clothing that doesn’t have a food stain right here.” She pointed to the front of her maternity blouse just above the mound of her stomach, which did in fact sport an extremely large and prominent spot.
“It won’t be long now,” Maddie said. “And everything’s going well.”
“Yes, so far.” Nikki knocked on the bar for luck. “It’s just that until the babies are born and okay, it’s kind of impossible not to worry. And I’m not particularly good at being pregnant, except for the gaining weight part. I never glowed or anything—not even for five minutes. I had morning sickness for what felt like forever and then I got huge and . . .” She seemed to catch herself. “Sorry. I am good at blender drinks, and piña coladas are one of my specialties.” She poured a generous glass and handed it to Bitsy. “Here. Try this.”
“I hate to drink alone,” Bitsy said.
Without asking, Nikki poured glasses for Maddie, Avery, and Kyra.
“To friendship!” Bitsy raised her glass and waited for them to raise theirs.
“Friendship!” They clinked glasses. Bitsy had downed her entire glass before the rest of them had taken more than a few tentative sips. She reached for a Cheez Doodle and then another. If she was dismayed by the lack of caviar or expensive wine or champagne, she gave no sign.
“Shall we head out back and enjoy the show?” Avery suggested.
“Sure. What can I take?” Bitsy stood. Sherlock got to his feet.
Between them they carried the tray of snacks, their now empty glasses, and two pitchers of piña coladas out to the loggia and settled around the wrought iron table. Over the Gulf, the sun glowed a golden red. Streaks of color shone between the clouds. When everyone had a full glass, Maddie hefted hers. “To sunset and to having Bitsy here.”
They clinked glasses and drank.
“What a gorgeous view,” Bitsy said, staring out over the jetty and the Gulf. “I’m more used to sunrises over the Atlantic, but this is really nice.”
“It does make you see things a little differently,” Maddie said. “When you confront Mother Nature and experience something so much larger than yourself.”
“You might want to get your thoughts in order,” Avery warned Bitsy. “Maddie makes us come up with one good thing that happened during the day or that we’re grateful for at sunset,” Avery said.
“I don’t make them do it,” Maddie protested.
“She does. And when we first met and discovered what horrendous shape Bella Flora was in—this house was all we had left—things were pretty grim. Finding anything good was a challenge,” Nikki said.
“Sometimes it was impossible,” Avery said.
“Amen to that,” Nikki added.
“So Mom started the ‘one good thing’ tradition.”
“And then she strongly encouraged us to participate,” Nikki said.
“It’s just an exercise in finding the positive,” Maddie said. “There’s no judgment as to how good the one good thing has to be.”
“Yeah, she doesn’t like to be called the ‘good enough’ police,” Avery said. “But if the shoe fits . . .”
“She does have a habit of seeing the glass as half full,” Nikki added. “Even when you’re convinced it’s more of a dribble glass.”
“Hey!” Maddie protested.
“That was a compliment,” Nikki said. “In fact, I’m co-opting your positive attitude for my good thing tonight. I’m not sure where we’d all be without it.”
“Compliment accepted then.” Maddie took a sip of her piña colada and turned her attention to the sky, which was most definitely a gift and a very good thing.
They munched and drank while the sunset played out. As instructed, Nikki kept Bitsy’s glass full. But each time, Bitsy insisted that she refill their glasses, too.
“At the moment you guys are my one good thing,” Bitsy said, raising what Maddie thought was her third piña colada in toast. Or was it the fourth? “But there are three of you. Do you count as one good thing or three? And are you allowed to repeat a good thing or do they have to be new?”
“I’ve asked those very questions myself,” Nikki said. “The rules are kind of fluid.”
“Speaking of fluid, these piña coladas are really excellent.” Bitsy drained her glass and once again waited for Nikki to refill theirs. “So I’m going with Nikki and her blending skills as my good thing tonight.” She downed the drink.
Maddie watched the enthusiasm—and desperation—with which Bitsy drank. She drank her own down. Kyra and Avery did the same. “Sometimes things get rough. Being able to talk about it can help,” Maddie prompted as Nikki leaned forward to refill Bitsy’s glass and then Kyra’s.
“Damn straight. I propose a toast to the best piña coladas I’ve ever tasted.” Bitsy held the glass aloft then tilted it to her lips, drank it down in quick gulps, then slammed it down empty as if doing shots. “Are you all with me?”
“To Nikki’s blending skills!” Maddie, Avery, and Kyra said then did the same.
“Can that count for all of us tonight?” Avery asked.
“Is that a trick question?” Maddie asked. Her thoughts had begun to slow and blur.
“I don’t think so,” Avery said slowly.
It occurred to Maddie that she’d lost track of how many piña coladas she’d had but didn’t want to say anything that might inhibit Bitsy, who definitely seemed to be loosening up. The sun puddled into the water in a final shimmer of color then slid beneath the surface. The temperature dropped a bit more, but no one complained. She felt warmed from the inside out.
Male voices sounded inside. A text dinged in on Kyra’s phone. Kyra squinted down at it. “Dad says Dustin fell asleep in the car. He’s putting him to bed before he and Troy head out for a drink.”
“That’s so nice,” Bitsy said. “I’ve been wondering why your ex-husband is living here. I mean, isn’t it kind of awkward? Especially when Will visits?”
Maddie blinked at the directness of the question then had to remind herself that she’d wanted Bitsy to speak freely. “Divorce can be difficult and awkward,” Maddie said, trying to marshal her thoughts. “Shh . . . suh . . . sometimes you just have to find what works best in a given shituation.” Maddie froze. Had she just said, “shit-uation”?
Nikki smiled. “I think ‘shit-uation’ is an absolutely brilliant word, useful in lots of shituations!”
“It is!” Avery crowed. “Almost as good as suckage and suckalicious!” She laughed. “We came up with those at a sunset in August,” she explained to Bitsy. “By God, we’re not only conjugating existing words, we’re creating our own language.”
“Very impressive.” Bitsy’s words were crisp and clear and unaccompanied by extra letters or syllables. “I don’t think I could ever live with my ex-husband.”
Nikki raised an eyebrow at Maddie.
“Assuming I ever had one,” Bitsy amended before Maddie could form a follow-up question. Bitsy held her empty glass up and waited for Nikki to fill it. “Speaking of husbands, I’ve been wondering why you’re not marrying Joe. He’s hot as all get-out.”
Nikki’s eyes narrowed.
“Of course, so is William Hightower,” Bitsy continued happily. “And Daniel Deranian is no slouch in the looks or charisma department. The Singer women have a lot going on.” Bitsy turned her sharp, clear gaze on Avery. “And Chase? Phew.” She fanned her face with one rock-steady hand. “When a man is good to his parents, well, that’s a total turn-on, isn’t it?”
Avery opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Nikki sent Maddie a nudge of a look, but Maddie’s thoughts were moving far too slowly to contribute.
“I used to think Bertie was hot,” Bitsy said. “But he’s proven a bit disappointing
.” She sighed. “I seem to be the only one here who is not with someone hot. Well, me and Sherlock, poor thing.”
Maddie shook her head in an attempt to clear it. This was her cue to . . . what?
“Where did you say Bertie was?” Nikki asked.
“Away.” Bitsy waved a hand vaguely. Then she yawned. Her eyes fluttered shut briefly before she jerked them open.
She wasn’t the only one starting to fade. Maddie could barely keep her own eyes open. Kyra rubbed her temples and took a deep breath. Bitsy slumped in her chair, her head bobbed a few times, then her chin went to her chest.
“Sorry . . . can’t . . .” Avery closed her eyes and laid her forehead on her hands, which were folded on the table.
“Maddie?” Nikki’s voice seemed to be coming from a great distance.
There were footsteps and then Joe’s voice. “Nik? Just wanted to let you know I was . . . what happened?”
Maddie considered answering. She also considered opening her eyes. Both were beyond her.
“I think I’m going to need some help getting everybody inside.” Nikki’s voice floated somewhere nearby.
“What happened?” Joe asked again.
“We were trying to find out why Bitsy’s really here.” Nikki’s voice was little more than a whisper.
“Did you consider asking her?” Joe again.
“Very funny,” Nikki said. “And by the way, have I mentioned how much it sucks to be the only sober person all the time? It’s downright suckalicious.”
Maddie’s eyes were not responding to her command to open, and she seemed to be swaying slightly, but her lips twitched at the word. “Is a suckalicious shituation,” she murmured.
“Maddie was the mastermind.” Nikki’s voice was followed by the sound of a chair scraping against concrete.
“You weren’t supposed to keep filling our glasses, too,” Maddie murmured sleepily. “Even if Bisssy doesn’t like to sdrinks alone.”