Wendy Wax - The House on Mermaid Point

“No.” Lisa Hogan’s voice rang out with no regard for the sleeping toddler. “I’m leaving early in the morning. I want us all to sit down now in the house and have our postmortem.” She speared Hightower with a look that didn’t seem to expect or need a response and William didn’t offer one. “Troy, you and Anthony come with me. I’ll expect the rest of you there in fifteen minutes.”

The network head turned on her heel—or rather she tried to. That heel went through an open slat of the dock and stuck there. If her assistant hadn’t grabbed her she might have teetered over and into the water. Deirdre would have paid a lot to see that. But Deirdre would have paid even more to get this headache, which was rapidly qualifying as the worst of her life, to go away. A look at the others’ tired faces told her she wasn’t the only one running on her last cylinder.

“I can’t leave Dustin alone on the houseboat,” Kyra said.

“Then bring him with you!” Lisa Hogan’s voice snapped with irritation.

“That’s ridiculous.” Kyra’s voice was low but no less irritated.

“Bring him with you, Kyra,” Maddie the peacemaker said. “The two downstairs suites are available—neither the Hollands nor William’s fishing friend were able to stay the night.” Maddie yawned. “Come on. We can slip him into bed there and put pillows on the floor around it just in case. Dustin barely moves when he’s this deep asleep.”

* * *

It was closer to thirty minutes later by the time they assembled in the great room. At a look from Lisa Hogan, Troy and Anthony began to shoot the conversation. Deirdre noticed that Kyra had her camera cocked and ready but seemed more inclined to wait and see whether there was anything—or anyone—worth shooting.

“The renovation looks good, but I want you all to stay on Mermaid Point until William receives a license to operate as a bed-and-breakfast and books some real guests.” It was not a question.

“No.” They were still gathering their thoughts when William Hightower answered for them.

“You don’t mean that you think you’re going to let us renovate your property and then do whatever the hell you feel like with it.” The network head was playing to the camera while ostensibly speaking to William.

“Yep.”

Tomato red was not an attractive skin color on Lisa Hogan. But that was the shade her face turned. “We don’t even know if anyone will bother to tune in to this.” She sniffed. “My people are staying until we get footage of you checking real guests into a licensed B and B. As agreed.”

“Not gonna happen.”

Deirdre looked at the others’ faces and could see them debating, as she was, what to say or do. Lisa Hogan kept playing to the camera while Hightower ignored it. At the moment the rest of them seemed to have been cast in the nonspeaking role of an audience as the network head and the rock star performed an uncomfortable dance choreographed for two.

“So you think you’re going to just live on this property or sell it for another fortune without having to do what was expected of you?” For an attractive woman, Lisa Hogan did a pretty good job of playing ugly. “I want the ending I paid for and scripted.”

William shook his head. “You want to see the final humiliation. I get it. But you’ve gotten all you’re getting from me. I can’t control the amount of shit your cast and crew are willing to put up with, but I’m done.”

“You have no right to . . .” Hogan’s sputtering seemed real. Deirdre wondered if somehow the scene had gotten away from her. The throbbing in her head made it hard to think.

“I have every right.” William watched Hogan carefully, but he didn’t seem particularly worried. Of course, he’d gotten pretty much everything he wanted.

“So you don’t care what happens to them?” Hogan cast a glance their way and Deirdre sensed that their nonspeaking roles were over. “You don’t care if Do Over ends here and now because of you? You don’t care that this will be the end of the road for these women?”

Will shrugged but he didn’t look at them. Seated silently on the couch, Deirdre thought Maddie, Nicole, and Avery looked a little sick to their stomachs and a lot like Hear No Evil, See No Evil, and Speak No Evil. She herself felt more like Humpty Dumpty about to be pushed off the wall and shattered into a bunch of pieces.

“Nothing personal,” Will said, as if they weren’t in fact discussing the potential demise of the show the four of them had been clinging to for almost two years. “But I don’t think this is the healthiest business relationship I’ve ever seen. I think these ladies could do this same thing a whole lot better without you yanking their chain every time they turn around.”

“And what exactly do you think you’re going to do with this property that my cast created?” Hogan was looking at the four of them then. Deirdre felt the women trembling on either side of her. She was trembling, too.

Will looked Hogan in the eye. “Not that it’s legally or technically any of your business, but I’m going to take a good friend’s advice.” He turned and smiled at Maddie. “I’m going to do the absolute right thing at the right time for once in my life. I’m going to turn Mermaid Point into a sober living facility.”

Maddie’s face lit up with pleasure. “You are? Oh, that’s perfect!”

It was perfect. Deirdre could see that all of them agreed. She tried to clear the static in her head, but it was loud and growing louder, like a radio stuck between stations.

“Are you going to let him destroy your show?” Hogan turned to them now as if they were somehow on the same side.

“Our show?” Avery jumped up. “The one we have no control over? The one you refuse to allot a decent budget to? The one you use to make us look like a joke? I don’t see that it’s Will who’s destroying Do Over or us!”

Deirdre’s head throbbed unmercifully, but she could feel the tide turning. This was the moment to free themselves of the Wicked Witch. “Will’s idea is perfect. And frankly, I may be speaking for myself, but as far as I’m concerned you can take Do Over and your pitiful, spiteful budget and shove it up your ass.”

Avery gave her a thumbs-up and a huge smile.

“Damn straight!” Maddie jumped up beside Avery. “This is total bullshit.”

Nicole sprang up next. “I thought we’d hit bottom when my brother stole everything we had, but you’re the bottom. This show could have been something special but you made it mean-spirited and humiliating. I’m done, too.”

There were shouts of agreement. Deirdre thought she saw Maddie—Maddie of all people—raising her fist in the air and shouting. Kyra was filming it all and yelling her agreement at the same time. It reminded Deirdre of that scene from the movie Network where everyone was yelling out their windows, “I’m as mad as hell and I’m not going to take this anymore!” Or maybe it was more Norma Rae. Her thoughts were oddly unfocused and fragmented. It was hard to think clearly given how badly her head hurt.

Her heart stuttered in shock as she realized just how much she loved these women. She’d screwed up a lot of things in her life, but she’d gotten her daughter back. Together they’d carved out a family that included these women. And Chase and Jeff Hardin and their boys. A wave of regret washed through her. It was only Peter Morgan, Avery’s father, whom she could never make amends to.

Deirdre closed her eyes against the pounding in her brain, felt her heart pump harder, the blood whooshing through her veins. Then a stick of dynamite detonated inside her head. Obliterating the pain in a searing flash of light. Until it was gone forever, smothered into nothingness.

* * *

Avery was standing next to Deirdre when she collapsed. She didn’t understand at first; they’d locked arms in solidarity, like suffragettes or antiwar activists, showering Lisa Hogan with their anger and frustration.

“Deirdre?” She dropped down to the floor and stared at Deirdre’s chalk-white face. She shook her as gently as her fear would allow. “Deirdre! Are you okay?” There was no answer. Avery bent closer. She couldn’t feel breath leaving Deirdre’s nose or mouth. Her chest wasn’t moving. “Somebody call 911!”

“Dialing!” A male voice . . . Will’s, she thought. “It’s low tide. If we open the gate the ambulance might be able to make it over the causeway and back.”

Avery couldn’t focus on what was being said. The causeway was passable? There was a way other than boat to get off the island? None of it made sense. None of it mattered.

“No,” Will decided, “too risky. We need the Coast Guard to transport her to Bud N’ Mary’s.”

Unable to understand what was happening, Avery searched her brain for the first steps of CPR. Although her fingers were shaking she placed the heel of one hand over the center of Deirdre’s chest, placed the other on top of it. Oh, God, what came next?

“Keep your elbows straight.” Maddie had dropped down next to her. “And keep your shoulders directly above your hands.”

Wordlessly Avery began the compressions. But the part of her brain that wasn’t seizing on stray shouts and bits of conversation was trying to remember what came next while praying fervently: Please, God, no. Make her breathe. Help me make her breathe!

Will brought the phone over. “I’m putting you on with Madeline Singer. She’s helping the person giving CPR.”

Maddie took the phone and stayed with Avery, helping her count, talking quietly in her ear. “That’s right. Press hard. We’re at thirty seconds now. We’re trying for one hundred compressions a minute.”

“Why aren’t you shooting?” Lisa Hogan hissed. “Pick up your camera and . . .”

“Hang on. I’m going down to meet the Coast Guard.” Will left.

“I said shoot this. Shoot this now!”

“Hell, no!” Troy’s voice this time.

“It’s not working!” Avery couldn’t tear her eyes from Deirdre’s nonresponsive face. She looked like the Resusci Annie dummy Avery had first learned CPR on back in Girl Scouts: rubbery and lifeless. Had she done it wrong? “I don’t remember what comes next. I . . .” Avery could feel the panic rising.

“You want to tilt her head back and . . .” Maddie’s voice was low, rational.

“Right . . .” Avery gently tilted Deirdre’s head back and her chin up. She pinched her nostrils closed and fitted her mouth over Deirdre’s. Over her mother’s mouth. And breathed the first breath. Her eyes flew to Deirdre’s chest. Please, God, please, God! It didn’t move.

She repeated the head and chin tilt and gave another breath. Still nothing. Her eyes met Maddie’s. “I think I’m supposed to do chest compressions again but . . .”

“That’s right. Thirty compressions and two breaths is a cycle. You just keep doing that until she breathes on her own or . . . until help gets here.”

“But what if . . .”

“Do you want me to take over?” Maddie asked. “I took a refresher course after Dustin was born.” But Avery was already pressing her palms into Deirdre’s chest. She couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t allow herself to think the thing that was stealing into her gut. That it was already too late. That no amount of breathing and pounding on Deirdre’s chest was going to make a difference. Tears ran down Avery’s cheeks. They fell on Deirdre’s. But she didn’t stop.

Because the only reason to stop would be if Deirdre were already dead.

Afterward Avery didn’t remember much of anything. Not the ride in the Coast Guard boat to Bud N’ Mary’s or the frantic race to Mariners Hospital in the ambulance as the fire department’s EMS team worked to save Deirdre. Not the doctor’s face when he pronounced Deirdre DOA of multiple brain aneurisms and asked whether she was an organ donor. A question Avery didn’t know the answer to any more than she knew where or how Deirdre would want to be buried.

The trip back to Mermaid Point seemed to take place on the other side of a scrim of Bubble Wrap, distant and out of focus, not quite real but unavoidably true. No matter how many times the scene played out in her mind she couldn’t change the outcome, couldn’t save Deirdre, couldn’t seem to process how this could have happened. How she could have lost the mother she’d only just regained.

They huddled on Mermaid Point staring hollow eyed at the beauty that surrounded them, trying to absorb their loss, doing what they could to comfort each other, until Chase arrived to drive her up to Tampa in the Mini Cooper. Bringing with him the incomprehensible news that Deirdre’s will called for her to be laid to rest in a spot that was waiting for her next to Avery’s father.