The House on Mermaid Point

Chapter Thirty-nine

“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.

“I hope Kyra brings back something good for dinner.” Avery tucked her hair behind an ear. Kyra had been assigned to take over cooking until the floors were done since she couldn’t bring Dustin into all the flying dust or the chemicals that would follow. When Maddie or someone else could watch him, Kyra came in to get footage of the work in progress. At first Nicole hadn’t understood why Kyra would shoot her own version of events, but then she thought about how greatly her and her brother’s account of each other’s lives would differ. It probably couldn’t hurt to record your own reality in case it came up against someone else’s. “I’m kind of hoping for a liquid dinner. It’s way too hot for food.”

Nicole looked at Maddie. She hadn’t mentioned William Hightower by name since he’d evacuated to Hudson’s house. But when anyone else did, her chin went up even while she was pretending not to listen. And there had been the morning she’d been caught standing in the master bedroom doorway looking into the emptied space with her arms wrapped around herself and the oddest little smile on her lips.

The sun was already slipping in the sky by the time they hobbled out to the pool and eased themselves into the water. “Oh, my God. This is heaven.” Maddie closed her eyes briefly as the water closed around her body in a cushioned caress. “I dreamed this feeling all day, but I didn’t do it justice.”

“It’s the only thing that kept me going.” Deirdre sighed.

“I need to cool off before I get in the hot tub. And when I get there, I’m going to plant my back in front of the strongest jet and never leave.” Nicole groaned aloud. “Do you think there’s any medical reason not to sleep in a hot tub?”

“You mean other than the potential bacteria and the fact that your skin will resemble a prune?” Avery took a teasing tone, but she, too, was moving carefully.

“What hurt, Geema?” Kyra had deposited Dustin beside Maddie in the shallow end. Now he reached his floatied arms up around her neck. “I kiss it better.”

Maddie pointed to her cheek and smiled as her grandson pressed his lips to it. He smelled of sweat and sunscreen and little boy.

In the pavilion Kyra had the blender going. “Drinks coming up, ladies.”

Kyra set a strawberry daiquiri near each of them then blended an additional pitcher. Plates of finger sandwiches and fruit followed. She delivered a plate to Roberto, who sat on the deck of his houseboat toking on a home-rolled number, then she slipped into the pool near Maddie.

“This is the perfect meal.” Avery reached for a sliver of tuna sandwich, which she chased with a long sip of her daiquiri.

“Definitely too hot for anything heavy.” Deirdre sipped her drink nearby.

Across the small stretch of beach Maddie saw that Roberto’s face was turned to the sky. She couldn’t make out his expression, but his head bobbed lightly. A moment later William Hightower’s voice reached her ears, floating on the way too warm ocean breeze. Tears pricked her eyelids as she listened to the song that had seen her through her earliest teenage forays into what she’d imagined was love. “Written on the Wind” was a sweet and soulful ballad of love lost but also of lessons learned.

“Don’t cry, Geema.”

Maddie looked into her grandson’s beautiful eyes and willed the moistness out of her own. “I’m not, sweetheart.” She smoothed his wet hair away from his face and watched him “swim” the few feet back to the step.

“It’s hard to believe anyone who could do that with his voice would ever stop singing.” Deirdre sipped her drink thoughtfully.

“And listen to those lyrics; the man did know how to tug on the heartstrings.” Nicole set her cup on the pool deck. “You’d never know from meeting him how deeply he must feel things.”

Maddie didn’t think an inability to feel deeply was William Hightower’s problem. In fact, she suspected it was just the opposite. “So,” she said, not wanting to think about William Hightower any more than he was thinking about her, “who has a good thing to toast?”

“Well, I guess I feel good about the fact that although the rest of my body is completely decimated I can still use my lips.” Nicole picked up her cup and took a long pull on her daiquiri to illustrate.

“I think you’ve used the ‘lip survival’ thing before,” Avery observed.

“And whose fault is that, Avery Lawford?” Nicole retorted. “You’re the reason the rest of me is in such excruciating pain.”

“We are not judging whether the good things are good enough,” Maddie reminded them. “And I don’t think we ever instituted a ‘no repeat’ rule, either.”

“I’m grateful everybody doesn’t whine as much as Nikki,” said Avery tartly. “And my good thing is how incredible everything’s going to look when we finish.”

“I agree with Avery,” Deirdre said. “It’s going to be fabulous.” She smiled and raised her glass. “And while we’re on good things, I heard from Architectural Digest. They’re doing a feature on private islands and may be interested in photographing Mermaid Point. Which should make the network happy and boost our ratings.”

“Here, here!” They all drank to that.

“Well, I’d like to make a toast to the fact that this has been the driest summer on record down here. And so far there hasn’t been a single named storm.” Maddie smiled and raised her glass. “That’s an extremely good thing in my book. May the trend continue!” She looked to Kyra, who had refilled their glasses for the toasts and now sat on the pool step next to Dustin.

“I’m glad Frick and Frack are off the island,” Kyra said. “And I hope they run aground or get shipwrecked on some distant island and never come back.”

Their voices trailed off as the sun did its final swan dive into the bay and sank out of sight, leaving the sky a bloody red streaked with yellow.

“Is anybody else worried about how the last episode is going to go over?” Maddie asked tentatively. “I’m dreading having to watch the scene with Amherst. And there’s no telling how they ended things.”

“We should be finished sealing the floors by then, but we won’t be able to walk on them yet.” Avery’s eyes were on the sky. “I thought we might go into Islamorada and watch the last episode on a big-screen TV together at one of the bars.”

“A bar sounds about right,” Nicole said, raising her glass to her lips. “If we drink enough we may be able to blot out the last of the humiliation before we leave.”

Will wasn’t sure how he’d ended up at Hog Heaven or why Hudson Power had seemed so determined to get him there to watch the final episode of Do Over, but he was there nonetheless.

There was a stir in the room when he and Hud entered and an even larger one when they spotted the Do Over crew at a large table that faced a big-screen TV and walked over to join them.

“See? Aren’t you glad you came?” Hud asked when he saw Will looking at Madeline.

Will shook his head. “I would have been fine at your place.”

“Mooning around does not become you.” Hud flashed a smile at a friend at a nearby table.

“I was not mooning. I’ve been displaced. And nothing personal, but there’s not a ton of space at your house.”

“Whatever you say.” Hud didn’t seem at all bothered by the observation. “Incoming.” His voice held a note of warning.

A thirtysomething redhead in a sundress that clung to her figure and emphasized both of her best assets walked up. She looked way too excited to see him. “Hi, Will. How have you been?”

It took him a minute to place her and when he did he wanted to groan aloud. He’d picked her up in this very bar a little over a year ago and spent a couple of days with her on Mermaid Point afterward. Getting rid of her had taken far more effort than their brief coupling had been worth.

“I’m good.” Her name escaped him but he seemed to remember that she liked to wear crotchless panties and showed great enthusiasm for using them. Before he could tell her he wasn’t looking for company, she’d draped herself all over him. When he and Hud reached the others she was still attached.

Madeline Singer stiffened as they approached. The rest of them gave him raised eyebrows and small hellos. Only Dustin and the network crew, who were currently panning from him and what’s-her-name to the Do Over cast, looked genuinely happy to see him.

“I don’t think this is a good place or time for us to get reacquainted, darlin’,” he said to the redhead. But she was already rubbing her considerable assets against his arm. He put his hands around her waist to try to set her away from him, but she took this as encouragement and leaned in against him.

“Hud?” He tried to see around her to get Hudson’s help, but Hud had already moved over to take the vacant seat next to Maddie, which appeared to be as far from Will as it was possible to get without actually leaving the room.

“Excuse me.” He took a Tootsie Pop out of his pocket, unwrapped it, and stuck it into his mouth, which should at least keep the redhead from sticking her tongue in, as he pondered what to do. The opening sequence of Do Over was up and running.

Will turned his back to the redhead, but she dragged a high stool over and slipped up on it. A moment later she’d laced her arms and legs around the front of him. Her big breasts and her presumably crotchless panties pressed up tight against him.

A drink would have helped him get rid of her. Two might have made him stop caring what Maddie might be thinking and go ahead and take the redhead up on her obvious offer. A third and he could have tried out her panties right there. But he was done with drinking and his body was surprisingly disinterested in anything the redhead’s might have to offer.

The commercial break was kind of short, which he knew was not too good a sign, and then there were shots of gardeners tromping around what he recognized as the grounds of the Art Deco home that belonged to Max Golden.

“Oh, it’s Do Over!” the redhead said right in his ear. “It’s so pathetic! I love this show!” And she laid her chin right on his shoulder so that she could watch the program.

“Sorry, but this is a private party.” He ducked out from underneath her chin, careful not to call her “babe.” Relieved that she hadn’t recognized the cast, he moved around the table, stopping to stare up at the screen when the video cut to an interior shot. The camera stayed stationary as a strange scene began to play out.

One of the gardeners came into the room and Will could feel that something was off—way off. On the screen Nicole saw and recognized the man. Avery and Deirdre gasped as the man pulled a gun and aimed it at Nicole, then at Avery, then back at Nicole.

No one at the table moved as the show broke for a commercial. Even the redhead stayed where she was. Troy Matthews was shooting his little heart out. Will felt the camera lens focus on him just as a pair of warm, soft lips brushed his cheek.

He turned, prepared to repulse the redhead, but it was a blonde whom he’d also slept with, though he wasn’t sure when.

“Hi, Your Wildness.” She was tall and lanky with white-blond hair and a heart-shaped face and, he was now remembering, a very clever tongue.

“Hi, babe.” Damn. That had just slipped out. Madeline Singer stiffened further until she was doing a pretty fair imitation of a two-by-four. Hudson shot him a pitying glance and this time Will didn’t hesitate to act. He gave his friend an unmistakable look and crooked his finger. Hud sighed, but he got up. “You remember Hud, don’t you, darlin’?” He took Hud’s arm and dragged him toward the blonde. “I’m going to have to excuse myself. Hud was just saving my seat.”

He sat in the chair next to Maddie just as the commercial break ended. He wasn’t the only one at the table who barely breathed as the rest of the scene played out on the television screen. Baby Dustin windmilling his arms and putting himself in danger. Madeline arriving with Max Golden. Dustin’s happy “Gax!” The horror on Maddie’s face when she realized what was happening.

Kyra sprang up from her chair with Dustin in her arms just as she showed up on-screen. “Come on, little man. Time for us to go to the potty.” She turned and left quickly.

Will’s attention returned to the drama that was playing out on the TV screen. Gunshots rang out. Deirdre shoved Avery out of the way and Max Golden dove in front of a second bullet to protect Dustin. Troy and another man burst into the room. There were sirens. Max Golden was carried out unmoving on a stretcher.

Next to Will, tears streamed down Madeline’s cheeks. Avery covered her mouth with a hand, stifling a gasp. Nicole slumped in her chair.

“No frickin’ way!” came from the next table.

“Did that really just happen?” Hudson asked.

“Oh, God,” Deirdre whispered.

They sat like pillars of salt through the funeral scenes as Max Golden was laid to rest and through the closing credits and even the commercials that followed.

“Jesus,” Will said. “That is so fucked up.”

He’d been through a lot of shit in his time, but he’d never seen anything so intentionally awful. He did not want to think about how he was going to come across when he and Mermaid Point were laid bare next season.

He became aware of someone standing behind him—it was Kyra Singer with Dustin in her arms. Her eyes were fixed on the screen where a promo for the next season currently being filmed on an unidentified private island in the Keys was currently being shot. Images of Mermaid Point, his house, and all the other structures on the island appeared. It ended with a promise of celebrities and scandal and ended with two shots meant to deliver on that promise. The first was a slow zoom in on a grainy black-and-white photo of “a cast member in the hot tub with the island’s owner.” Only this time the pile of discarded clothing on the pool deck was clearly visible. Jesus fucking Christ.

He flinched and saw that Maddie did the same. He could only hope they’d used that photo because that was all there was.

The final shot was of Kyra Singer in a lip-lock with Daniel Deranian. They were standing on some sort of loggia with a playhouse behind them.

Everyone at their table watched the final shots in horrified silence. The only movement was Troy Matthews and his audio guy coming closer for what Will guessed would be a three-shot including Will, a tear-stained Madeline, and Madeline’s clearly horrified daughter, who was holding Daniel Deranian’s son.

The screen went black and still no one spoke. As completely salacious but unforgettable promotions went, it didn’t get any better than that.