The House on Mermaid Point

Chapter Thirty-eight

It took a day to get back to work after the holiday break and another for the Sheetrock guys that Roberto had referred to arrive. The Sealys were Jamaican brothers, tall and slender with lilting accents and warm, sunny smiles that shone white in contrast to their ebony faces. They worked in concert with no need of verbal communication, beginning in the main house and then moving through the other structures with a grace that Avery found herself watching with admiration.

They worked to reggae and what Avery knew only as island music—strong on steel drums and with vocals that made her want to smile. Or maybe it was only the obvious progress they were making and the fact that when they finished there were no seams to be straightened, no gaps that needed filling; just smooth finished walls where before there had been only framework. Avery sighed with happiness to see the spaces she’d envisioned taking shape. Roberto returned late the afternoon the brothers finished. “Roberto, mon!” There was hugging and bopping as the trio caught up with each other. After a brief passing of the peace pipe on the house of the setting sun, the brothers took off on their boat, Bob Marley’s music trailing in their wake.

It took a couple of days to settle into Maddie’s cooking schedule, too. It included everyone who lived on—or attached to—Mermaid Point and the offerings teetered from the simple to the sublime. So far they’d had hot dogs and burgers courtesy of Troy and Anthony, an elegant coquilles Saint-Jacques à la nage from Deirdre, and the Dante family ravioli served up by Roberto.

Avery had noted William Hightower’s absence at those first meals as well as Maddie’s disappointment-tinged relief each evening when he didn’t appear. In fact, the man had kept himself scarce since the holiday and sometimes seemed off island when all the boats were present and accounted for, which Avery hadn’t yet figured out. There was no contact between him and Maddie that she could discern, and Maddie didn’t even speak his name. If Avery hadn’t seen the photo and Deirdre hadn’t found Maddie’s clothes, she would never have known anything had transpired between them.

That night it was William Hightower’s turn to cook dinner and Avery, who’d heard him and Hud and Tommy leave in the skiff early that morning, wondered if the rock star had decided to blow off the schedule as he seemed to be blowing off Madeline Singer. But by three P.M. the three men were back from what appeared to be a successful fishing trip if the ice chest of freshly filleted fish was any indication.

Avery and Deirdre were discussing plans for an additional path between the pavilion and the guest bath/laundry area in the main house when William Hightower arrived at the pool in exceptionally high spirits. His eyes strayed to Maddie, who sat on the beach watching Dustin dig in the sand. “This is what living on an island is all about.” He said this louder than necessary and far louder than usual. Dustin turned around at the sound of William’s voice. His grandmother did not.

“Billyum!” Dustin dropped his bucket and shovel and raced toward the rocker with a big smile on his face.

“Dustbin!” Hightower smiled back and tousled the little boy’s hair, then pretended to have trouble walking—keeping his leg stiff as he pulled the toddler clinging to it along with him. “You ready for a swim?”

“Twim!”

If she hadn’t been watching so closely Avery might have missed the quick peek Hightower snuck at Maddie. Who was now gathering Dustin’s sand toys and walking toward the pool at a tortoiselike pace.

“Can he come in for a swim?” Will asked Maddie, his enthusiasm level dialed down several notches.

“Dustbin twim!”

“No, I don’t think so.” Maddie reached a hand out to detach Dustin from Hightower’s leg. “He didn’t nap well today. I’m going to take him inside for some quiet time.” Her chin was tilted up, her shoulders squared. Even from her angle Avery could tell she was looking past William, not at him.

“Sorry, sport.” Hightower looked down at Dustin. “I’ll see you at dinner. I’m making extra-special lemon-butter fish from a secret recipe.” He looked up at Maddie as if waiting to see her reaction.

“Billyum tish!”

“Won’t that be great, Dustin?” Maddie’s eyes remained on her grandson. With a brief nod in William’s general direction she turned toward the houseboat.

“Right.” William peeled off his shirt and dove into the pool. He came up with a shake of his wet hair. “Ahh, this is the life.” It was unclear whom he was trying to convince.

Avery sat on the edge of a chaise and watched Maddie’s stiff-backed retreat.

“So how’s the work coming?” William asked casually even though Avery could practically feel him battling the urge to turn and check on Maddie’s progress.

“Good.” Avery wondered what was up. She’d never seen Maddie so stiff and uncomfortable. Had the man done something in bed that hadn’t been okay with Maddie? She turned her eyes on William Hightower and saw that he’d lost the battle and was watching Maddie and Dustin disappear from view. “The Sheetrock’s done—you’ll be able to really see what the rooms will look like now—and Roberto’s ready to start on the trim. When he’s out of the main house, the floors will be sanded—you’re going to want to be sleeping elsewhere for four or five days until the polyurethane has dried. Then the plumber can get started and the glass accordion doors can go in. There’s a lot to cover still, but we’re picking up steam. It’s going to look fabulous.”

“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.”