Wendy Wax - The House on Mermaid Point

“That’s great.” William Hightower sounded a lot less jovial than he had when he’d arrived. He seemed thrown by the fact that his audience had left and had forgotten to applaud before departing.

“I guess I’ll go ahead and get my laps in now before it’s time to get dinner started.”

Avery watched him swim for a few minutes; he ate up the length of the pool with his long-armed crawl as if something were pursuing him. Or maybe there was something he was trying to catch.

* * *

Maddie dressed for dinner with far more care than she wanted to and headed to the pavilion with the same trepidation she’d felt since Hudson had found her in William’s bed and ripped the face off the little fantasy she’d had going; the one where her and Will’s connection was not some one-night stand of convenience that evaporated in the light of day. She couldn’t stop thinking about how quickly he’d shut down in the face of Hudson’s disapproval, how quickly he’d distanced himself as he probably had a million times before. She’d taken a walk on the wild side and had been tempted to remain; he’d dabbled in the everyday and clearly had no interest in dwelling there.

The first time they’d run into each other she’d been with Nicole and Deirdre and she’d watched his face carefully, waiting for some flash of the man she’d thought she’d glimpsed; some form of acknowledgment of what they’d shared; some word or glance that would tell her that he knew she wasn’t a “babe” and that even if there would be no more nights, the one they’d spent had meant something. But he’d just smiled at her like he did at the others, or possibly less warmly, and went on about his way. It was then, as she’d felt her friends bristle on her behalf, that she’d understood. This was the real William Hightower. The other Will, the one who’d treated her like she was something and someone worth savoring, had been the doppelgänger. The William Hightower who’d held and caressed her like she was a treasure he was grateful to have stumbled upon was no more than a figment of her imagination.

She arrived in the pavilion to find the tables set with a hodgepodge of plastic dishes and cutlery culled from all three houseboats and Will sautéing up a storm much as he had the night he’d cooked for her. She was watching from beside a shadowed pillar when Hudson stepped up to her. “I was hoping to find a minute alone with you. I’ve been wanting to apologize.”

“Thanks. But that’s not necessary.” She stepped onto the concrete floor, prepared to head for the table where Kyra and Dustin were already seated. Hud reached a hand out to stop her.

“No, it is. I was just so surprised when I found you and Will. I never imagined . . .”

Maddie checked to make sure no one could hear them. If there was anything worse than what had taken place that afternoon when Hud had stumbled on her and Will, it was having to discuss it now. “I get it. Believe me. I understand far more than I want to.” She swallowed. “I was way out of my league. Kind of like an average club tennis player accidentally winding up on Centre Court at Wimbledon. I was overly flattered and I’m sure I misinterpreted all kinds of things.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all.” Hudson looked at her imploringly. “I actually think that Will is—”

“I’m sure Will’s actually laughing inside, kind of like those fish I was trying to cast my lure at.”

“What?”

Maddie closed her eyes briefly. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. We both tried something outside our normal comfort zone. It turned out to be . . . uncomfortable. Like he said, it’s no big deal.”

“No, Maddie, really I don’t—”

“Is this guy bothering you?” She looked up to see William standing there, a scowl on his face and a spatula in his hand. “Lots of Keys guides have a reputation for being stingy with their words. But Hud here has verbal diarrhea. Sometimes the fish break the surface just to ask him to shut up.”

“Unlike you. Who knows how to shut up and retreat on a dime.” The words were out before Maddie could stop them, but she was relieved to note that they’d been delivered in an even tone with something that resembled a smile on her face.

“If I hurt your feelings I’m sorry.” Will lowered the spatula. “I’m just not used to . . .”

“. . . women like me. I get it. I’m sure I was a total shock to your system.” She hoped this shock would fade. Along with his memory of her naked.

She had the satisfaction of seeing surprise written across both of the men’s faces. “Now both of you can settle down and stop worrying about me. And you can definitely stop apologizing.” She smiled again and, though she spoke softly so as not to be overheard, she chose to end the conversation—and, she hoped, the topic—with the words that had been echoing in her head ever since William had uttered them. “It was sex. We both enjoyed it. End of story.” She shrugged and shot Will a wink. “I don’t really see the problem here. Do you, babe?”

* * *

“What’s going on with your mom and Will and Hudson?” Troy stood on the opposite side of Kyra’s table, aiming the camera at her and Dustin. Anthony aimed the boom microphone toward her mouth. She wished Will would stop talking and serve up dinner so the network duo would either sit down and eat or have something else to shoot.

“No idea.” Kyra snapped a bib around Dustin’s neck and handed him his favorite Thomas the Tank Engine plastic fork. A matching plate and sippy cup of milk sat in front of him. She busied herself with Dustin, doing her best to block an extreme close-up, but it was a good question. Her mother had been acting pretty un-Mom-like since she and Dustin had gotten back from Bella Flora. Kyra had no idea at all what had gotten into her.

“So how was the holiday in Pass-a-Grille?”

She blinked at him in surprise. “I don’t know what you—”

“Don’t insult me by trying to deny it. You and the paparazzi aren’t the only ones who know how to use a zoom lens.”

Kyra wanted to ask how he’d known and what he’d shot but she clamped her mouth shut. It was better to ignore this than to say anything at all about Daniel on camera.

“How about you, Dustin?” Troy asked. “Did you have fun at Bella Flora?”

“Buhfora!” He pounded the butt of his fork against the table happily.

“Did you have a good time with your dad?”

“Dundell boag go fast!”

She clenched her teeth while the cameraman zoomed in on her son’s smiling, unbelievably photogenic face. She looked away to see Will and Tommy dishing up plates of fish and salad. Hudson was pouring water and lemonade. At the next table Avery, Deirdre, and Roberto were sketching something on a napkin. Nicole had something to take care of and had asked Kyra to save her a seat.

“And how about you, Kyra?” Troy prompted, his finger moving on the zoom out to a two-shot of her and Dustin, she assumed. “Did you have a good time, too?”

“Oh, I kind of laid low. You know, I had a room next door at the inn. Just in case Dustin needed me.”

“Yeah.” Troy’s jaw was tight. His movement on the lens was subtle. “It’s too bad you didn’t actually sleep there.”

She didn’t respond but she didn’t attempt to hide her anger, either. Her mother arrived at the table and Troy and Anthony took a couple of steps back to allow her to take her seat and presumably to include her in the shot.

“You can’t have it all only your way, Kyra.” Troy Matthews didn’t even try to keep his voice from being recorded. “You can’t expect me to cut you slack and then lie to me and keep me in the dark. We’re either finding a way to work this together or it’s every man for himself.”

She wanted to hurl insults at him, and a couple of swear words would have released a little steam. But that was Tonja Kay’s thing and Kyra knew exactly how that would look on camera. Troy had known where she was going and he’d followed her there. And she had no doubt he had the footage to prove it.

“I’ve gone out on a limb for you before,” the cameraman said. “Because of Dustin and because it felt like the right thing to do. But it’s been pretty one-sided. It turns out we weren’t really collaborating. You were taking advantage.”

“Troy, that’s enough.” As always her mother was like a lioness protecting a cub, even though Kyra was supposed to be a lioness herself. “I’m sure Kyra understands what you’re saying and will try to be more forthcoming in the future.”

“It’s about time she understands that you can’t choose to be involved with a major celebrity and not give up your privacy. In fact, I hope you understand that, too, Mrs. Singer.”

Kyra saw her mother flush but assumed it was on her behalf.

“Dustin didn’t choose that,” Kyra said tightly.

“No,” the cameraman agreed. “You chose it for him. And you shouldn’t let yourself forget it.”

“I can’t straighten my fingers. Or my back.” Nicole shook her hand to free the sandpaper-wrapped block of wood that had melded with her skin. She could hear the whir of the belt sander in the master bedroom; it and its operator had been sent by the flooring company to refinish the wide plank floors and restore their original beauty.

She and Maddie were sanding their way around the edges of the front upstairs bedrooms. Avery had taken the upstairs landing and hall. Deirdre had begun working her way down the stairs while they waited to get into the master suite together.

Ultimately they’d tackle the first floor. After which they’d face the garage and boathouse units. An eternity of hours and days spent moving one painful, dusty, sweaty inch at a time.

The windows had been flung open but the dust hung heavy in the hot, humid air, coating their hair and skin. The occasional breeze just made it worse.

“How much longer ’til we get to stop and go for a swim?” Nicole’s voice was muffled by the mask that covered her mouth but she was too tired to remove it.

“That depends on how fast we finish up here.” Avery dropped down on her rear end and leaned back against the wall just outside their doorway.

“I can barely lift my arm or unclench my fingers. Fast is not even an option.” Nicole groaned. “I’m never going to make it through ten days of this. How could I have forgotten how awful it is and how much I hate it?”

“It must release whatever that hormone is that makes mothers forget the pain attached to giving birth,” Avery said.

“I don’t think sanding and staining floors releases beta-endorphins,” Maddie said drily. “All I see being released is dust and grime.”

“The more I sweat the more the dust sticks. And the more I think about how long this is going to take, the more I want to throw myself out of one of these windows.” Nicole tried to smile, but she wasn’t positive she was joking.

When the sanding was finished they’d start staining and sealing, which was done with moplike applicators. This was equally onerous but at least they would be standing and the area covered could be counted off in feet rather than inches.

“Don’t think ahead. Just focus on the now.”

“That’s very Zen-like of you, Maddie. But I don’t want to be the block of wood or the sandpaper.” Nicole looked down at her filthy hands and jagged nails. “And I definitely don’t want to be the stain and polyurethane that are in our future.” She turned her face from the camera that was aimed at her. Troy and Anthony had been shooting them from every conceivable angle, none of them flattering. “I want to be the woman who is telepathically transported back to the Cheeca Lodge for her massage on the beach.”

“No one’s leaving until the floors are done—there is no escape—not even telepathically.” Avery stood in the doorway, one hand pressed to the small of her back. “We’ve got to finish as quickly as possible and get these floors covered so that the rest of the subs can get in. The plumber and tile guys will be next, then all the cabinetry has to be set and trimmed out, and we need to get the track laid for the glass accordion doors. There’s a ton left to do and it’s going to be tight.”

Maddie made it up off the floor but seemed unable to straighten. “I feel like the Hunchback of Notre-Dame.” She did a half-bent crab walk to reach the bottle of water she’d left behind her.

“No offense but you’re starting to look a little like him,” Avery said.

“None of us look exactly ready for our close-ups.” Deirdre blew a hank of hair out of her eye.

“And yet Troy keeps shooting them.” Nicole plucked at her T-shirt, which was sweat soaked and clinging to her body.