The House on Mermaid Point

Chapter Forty-four

With aspirin reducing her headache to just a dull roar, Deirdre greeted Lisa Hogan and her entourage at the Mermaid Point dock and escorted them to their suites. The tall blonde changed clothes then swept down to the pavilion with an assistant on either side of her, though perhaps “swept” was more an attitude than a reality since she’d ignored the fact that she was on an unpaved island and kept losing her heels in the sand.

She wore a black linen sheath that bared long, well-toned arms and a runner’s muscled legs. Her well-kept person was comprised of sharp angles, ice-chip eyes, and thin lips; there was nothing soft or warm about her. Even her hair had been pulled sharply back from her face. She was not wearing a smile. At least not until Deirdre led her over to William Hightower.

“You have quite a place here.” Hogan wasn’t looking at the spotlit palms or the candlelit pavilion or the white sand against which the Atlantic Ocean teased. Nor did she look toward the sky, which an hour before sunset was already beginning to pinken. The music, sung by the likes of Norah Jones and Alicia Keys, floated gently on the warm ocean breeze. “I’ve seen the raw footage of the renovation, of course”—she emphasized the word “raw” and stared boldly into William Hightower’s eyes—“but you’ll have to give me a private tour later.”

William nodded and smiled but promised nothing.

“We have regularly scheduled tours every fifteen minutes if you’d like to join one.” Deirdre managed a smile, which Hogan did not return.

“Maybe a tour of the hot tub, then?” The network head’s eyebrows angled upward in what Deirdre was certain was meant to be an invitation. She didn’t seem to notice that William Hightower’s eyes were on Maddie, who’d just removed Dustin from the sling on his mother’s back. “Based on what I’ve seen in the tabloids, I understand your hot tub is clothing optional.”

William’s dark eyes turned to Lisa Hogan. “It’s not as automatic a thing as you seem to think.”

“Is that right?” Lisa Hogan shot him an arch look.

“What I meant was, I’m not the indiscriminate party animal I once was. And I don’t take my clothes off for just anybody.”

Deirdre was careful not to laugh or offer the rocker a high five, but she liked him the better for his handling of this woman who seemed to delight in making their lives miserable.

“Why don’t you let me reintroduce you to some of our sponsors.” Deirdre took Lisa Hogan’s arm, ignoring the sharp downturn of her lips, and led her over to a group of men that included Thomas Hightower.

She’d introduce her to Mayor Philipson, who was here with his daughter Justine and great-granddaughter Amber. Then maybe just to annoy her she’d hand her off to Roberto, who looked almost elegant in his tuxedo T-shirt, black cargo shorts, and dress huaraches. If they were lucky there might be enough residual marijuana coming off his skin to mellow the woman out.

“You did a great job.” Thomas Hightower raised what looked like a glass of orange juice to Deirdre as Hogan smiled and shook hands and even offered thanks to the companies that had participated. Apparently she saved her nastier self for those over whom she wielded power.

“Thank you.” Deirdre looked over at the pool area with its new cushioned chaises and market umbrellas. Large urns filled with newly planted tropicals anchored the far corners of the pool deck while the row of spotlit palm trees held the line between the ocean and what passed for civilization. Her temples throbbed and her eyes blurred slightly as she looked at the strip of beach with the two Adirondacks and the hammock, which guests had already claimed. Several boats idled out in the channel, and for once she hoped they were filled with paparazzi; photos of Mermaid Point all lit up and decked out would help spread the word about Do Over and the new island getaway they’d created.

Excusing herself, Deirdre stepped out of the pavilion. With her feet planted in the sand, she turned westward to watch the sun finish its descent, leaving behind a pink-and-red-streaked sky. Already the days were shorter, the sunsets earlier. Soon they’d be leaving for Tampa, a place she’d once fled and now looked forward to getting back to.

Avery and Maddie, with Dustin on her hip, came over to join her. Together they watched Kyra shooting video not far from Troy and Anthony. It was an interesting dance they did, somehow managing to stay out of each other’s way while pretending to be unaware of each other. “I think we’ve shown everybody through who wants to go. I wish you two could have heard how impressed everyone was.” Maddie resettled Dustin on her hip.

“The pool area is perfect,” Avery said to Deirdre. “I can’t get over how much ambience those lit palms provide.” She smiled. “Although I was a little worried when they went in and that one went dangling from the crane that it was going to bash in the pavilion roof.”

“Yes, I saw you covering your eyes.” Deirdre looked at her daughter and felt an almost painful burst of love. “You should be proud of yourself, Avery. This is all you. You devised the recipe and you baked the cake. The rest of us just frosted it and added a few sprinkles.” Her eyes blurred again, this time with tears.

“When did you get so modest?” Avery feigned shock. “I hope you’re not planning to do an ‘Aw, shucks, it was nothing’ if Architectural Digest decides to feature Mermaid Point. Do you think we have a serious shot at that?”

“I do. They seemed especially intrigued by a mother/daughter team being involved in the renovation of a private island that belongs to a famous person.”

“Cool.” That was all Avery said, but Deirdre felt the weight of it. Even six months ago, her daughter would have rebelled at the very idea of them as a team.

Maddie nudged her and Deirdre nudged Avery. All three gazes turned to Kyra and Troy Matthews, who were now actually shooting video of each other.

“I don’t know, but I think it’s a good thing those cameras aren’t loaded with bullets,” Avery observed.

“A very good thing,” Maddie agreed.

Deirdre spotted William Hightower detaching himself from a nearby group of people.

“Billyum!” Dustin reached out to Hightower, straining to get out of Maddie’s arms.

“No, Dustin, let’s not bother William. He . . .” Maddie tried to calm her grandson but he had his arms outstretched toward the rocker, who was standing in front of them before Madeline had finished admonishing Dustin.

Without asking, William reached over and took Dustin out of Maddie’s arms. “Not a bother, more like a rescue.” He said this under his breath and then flashed a smile at Dustin. “Hello, my man. Are you enjoying the party?”

Digital flashes went off all over the beach at the sight of William Hightower with a toddler in his arms. Maddie tried to ease out of the line of fire but William put an arm around her shoulder. “Oh, no, you don’t. You can stay and take the medicine like the rest of us.”

It was hours later when Lisa Hogan declared the party over. They walked to the docks, where the locals had tied their boats, to say their good-byes. Hudson and Tommy each loaded up a boatload of out-of-town sponsors to ferry over to Bud N’ Mary’s.

Deirdre watched as Kyra got some last shots of the departing guests then moved to ease Dustin off William’s shoulder, where he’d fallen asleep.

“I can carry him for you,” he said.

“Thanks, but I’ll take him.” She eased him gently off Will’s shoulder and onto hers. “It’s good to know he seems capable of sleeping pretty much anywhere.” She turned toward the houseboat. “I’ll see you all in the morning.”

“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.