The House on Mermaid Point

Chapter Forty-five

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.

“We’ll be there as soon as we tie everything up here.” Maddie and the others hugged her good-bye. “Just let us know when you have the service scheduled.”

Avery dozed for much of the drive to Tampa and fell into a deep and troubled sleep minutes after Chase tucked her into his bed. She awoke the next morning no less tired or troubled. On the day of Deirdre’s funeral she stood graveside with Chase’s arm around her, Maddie, Kyra, Nicole, and Joe surrounding her, while her mother’s coffin was lowered into the ground beside her former husband.

“I can’t believe she’s gone. I was just getting used to having her back. I . . .”

“I know.” Maddie put her arms around Avery and held her tight, rocking her like a small child. “It was too soon, but I keep thinking how happy she was to be back in your life. I know how much that meant to her.”

Avery swiped at the tears that she couldn’t seem to stop shedding. “God, I feel like a faucet. I haven’t cried like this since . . .” Her eyes went to her father’s grave and more tears spilled down her cheeks. They were salty on her tongue, heavy with loss and regret. “I still can’t believe they wanted to be buried together. She left so long ago. I . . . I never even . . . He hadn’t mentioned her for years before he died.” So many things she hadn’t known and didn’t understand.

They left the graveside doing their best to avoid the photographers camped outside the cemetery gates. But more were waiting on the sidewalk across from Chase’s house. Nigel and the potato-faced photographer had changed out of their Keys T-shirts and flip-flops presumably out of respect or perhaps just the change in weather, but that didn’t stop them from shouting questions or begging for clean shots of Dustin and Kyra.

Flowers and fruit baskets and other fancy edibles arrived in a steady stream from Deirdre’s Hollywood friends and former clients. Nicole and Joe dealt with the delivery people and fended off the bolder photographers and reporters. Each time there was a delivery the pleas for photos began anew. “They seem to think William Hightower and Daniel Deranian are hiding in here somewhere,” Nicole said drily.

“Not likely.” Maddie watched the jostling through the window. “Will wanted to come, but we were afraid it would make the paparazzi even more aggressive. I guess even professional stalkers can fall victim to wishful thinking.” When she mentioned William Hightower Maddie’s voice sounded pretty wistful, too.

In the kitchen Avery surveyed the space where Deirdre had practiced her newfound cooking skills and clucked around everyone, clearly relishing the motherly role she’d refused to play during Avery’s childhood. “I spent most of my life without her and now I feel like this piece of me is missing.”

“I know it hurts.” Maddie’s eyes brimmed with sympathy. “I just keep telling myself how lucky she was. Not everyone gets to resolve things with the person they love most in the world like Deirdre did.”

Avery’s throat tightened. Their reconciliation had happened against her will; she’d fought it every single step of the way. Between her stubbornness and her pride it might never have happened if Deirdre hadn’t persevered. She was so incredibly thankful that Deirdre hadn’t given up.

After the months of noise and people, Mermaid Point felt eerily silent. The Do Over cast and crew had left just a few days behind Avery. Roberto had given Will a hearty clap on the back and left shortly after them, his sunset boat appropriately enough disappearing into the sunset. Tommy had had to head back to work, leaving Will well and truly alone. That was when he’d realized that the privacy he’d always thought he craved was just one more evasion; that he’d never allowed anyone to get close enough to matter.

He’d ferried Maddie, Kyra, and Dustin to Bud N’ Mary’s, where Dustin had given him a huge hug and an enthusiastically sloppy kiss on the cheek when Will presented him with his very own ukulele.

“Tanks, Billyum!” the boy said.

Kyra and Maddie had hugged him good-bye, too, and he’d held on to Maddie a little longer than he should have. He’d felt a surprising stab of loss when he put the last of their things in the back of the minivan then stood clutching the note Maddie had pressed into his hand while he watched their taillights disappear on U.S. 1.

His home, his island, his entire life had been cleaned up and put in order. What choices he made next, what paths he chose, would be up to him.

It had taken him two days to open the note. It had been short and to the point. It had read, I’m so glad to have known you and even gladder to have had a small part in getting Mermaid Point ready for its new guests.

Stop hiding from who you are. You were born to make music. Your fans are waiting. Don’t let us down. Madeline.

He’d reread it a ridiculous number of times and then spent an even more ridiculous amount of time contemplating the lack of anything remotely personal—no “yours truly” or “fondly,” not even “sincerely”—before her signature. He then spent another two days assuring himself that he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to just because Madeline Singer thought he should.

When he finally walked the newly cleared path to the studio he’d sworn he’d never enter, he stood for a long time staring at the exterior that Maddie had pressure washed, the windows that she’d cleaned, the key as heavy as a brick in his pocket.

The door stuck and he had to put his shoulder to it to get it open. He stood in the doorway for a long time with his heart racing at speeds he didn’t think it was meant to reach. Unable to step inside, unwilling to turn and run. He waited it out like he’d learned to wait for the craving for booze and oblivion to pass. Waited until his heartbeat slowed.

His cased guitars leaned against a wall; his fingers tingled at the sight of them and his mouth went dry. He recalled when and why he’d bought each one. A wave of memories washed over him: his brother’s face; the warmth of the bright lights onstage; the polished wood in his palm; the press of the strings against the callused pads of his fingers. There was no pain in this wave. No guilt. No remorse. It wasn’t there to knock him down or pull him under.

Will walked inside. Opened a window to let out the stale air. Passed by the Les Paul Goldtop, the Fender Telecaster. Reached for the Gibson Acoustic and quickly restrung it, his fingers moving nimbly, remembering and responding to what he’d tried so hard to forget.

Outside he settled against the trunk of a palm tree and tuned the instrument that had once been part of him. For a time he stared out over the rocks, mesmerized by the shades of blue that shimmered in the afternoon sun. He closed his eyes when the melody floated to him on the warm ocean breeze. It riffled his hair. Caressed his cheek. Seeped inside him.

His fingers moved of their own accord, picking out the notes and chords. Plucking. Sliding. He didn’t question what came, didn’t try to alter or edit it. Wherever it came from it was imbued with the sweetness of being alive; the balm that could soothe a soul if only it were open to it. The melody crested. It buoyed and lifted him. It carried all the good things he’d forgotten; the love he’d turned his back on; the future he hadn’t thought he deserved. He rode it joyfully, instinctively picking out a song that was as sweet as his brother’s smile and as warm and comforting as the sun.

The house creaked companionably as it settled, providing a counterpoint to Chase’s even breathing. Avery had put Joe and Nicole up in the garage apartment she and Deirdre had shared, unable to face it, but she couldn’t fall asleep here in Chase’s room tonight, either. After hours spent staring at the plaster ceiling, she pulled on a robe and padded out to the kitchen. For a time she stared into the open refrigerator, waiting for something to grab her attention.

At a sound behind her, she turned to see Jeff Hardin approaching with his walker. Whisker stubble covered his cheeks and his eyes were tired, but his smile was kind. “Your mother was a force to be reckoned with. And you’re a lot like her.” He gave her a look so filled with compassion that it made her want to cry again.

“I swore I’d never forgive her. And then I did and . . .” Avery choked back a sob, still surprised by the ferocity of the emotions that she’d thought she’d corralled.

“She left something with me and Chase for you. Just in case.”

She followed Jeff down the hall to the bedroom suite she and Chase had designed and built for him. On the desk near the window were two brown cardboard boxes.

“These are for you,” Jeff said quietly. “Deirdre asked one of us to give them to you if anything ever happened to her before she could give them to you herself.”

Tentatively Avery opened the first box, startled to see that it was filled with letters. All of them were addressed to her and all of them had been returned unopened and stamped Return to sender. Avery peered at the delivery date on the first one: October 10, 1991. “But that was my thirteenth birthday, the year she left us.”

Jeff nodded. “It looks like she sent them regularly for the first five years she was gone. And then birthdays and holidays after that.”

“But I never saw any of them. Dad said . . .”

“Your dad and I argued about this. He believed hearing from her would just make things worse. Then when you seemed to be doing okay and you never asked about her, Peter thought it was for the best. That there was no good that would come of opening old wounds.”

“But I thought she’d just written us off. That she didn’t care about me at all. By the time I heard from her while I was in college it had been so long that I didn’t want anything to do with her.”

Jeff Hardin reached out a work-roughened hand and placed it gently on her arm. “It was no accident that your mother came back into your life after your father died. I think she would have tried harder sooner, but Peter was convinced it would make things more difficult for you. In his way he was trying to protect you. And himself.”

Avery shook her head. “He should have at least told me. Or let me decide whether I wanted to read her letters.”

“Yeah. I don’t think he was ever able to believe that you could forgive her, and without forgiveness her return would have just brought more pain.” Jeff shook his head sadly. “You’ll see one day when you’re a parent. Most of us do the best we can. Sometimes it’s just not enough or not the right thing. But I can tell you that both of your parents loved you a great deal. And you notice that despite all those years apart, neither of them ever remarried.”

Avery fingered the letters, thinking about the wife her father had apparently never completely let go of; the mother who had ultimately found a way to come back and try to make amends. There’d been so many things she’d thought she’d known when in fact she’d barely understood the smallest thing.

Days passed and none of them could quite figure out what was supposed to happen next. Nicole, Maddie, and Kyra, along with Joe and Dustin, camped out at the Hardins’, intent on helping Avery come to terms with her loss while trying to process their own reactions to Deirdre’s absence. Not to mention the fact that in their anger at Lisa Hogan and their surge of solidarity they’d walked away from a network television show they’d poured so much of themselves into. Pretty much none of them had so much as a home of their own.

“So.” It was a breezy September afternoon, the convertible top down on the Jag, when Nicole delivered Joe to curbside check-in at the Tampa International Airport. “Thanks for being here. I know we all appreciated it.”

“I love you.” Joe placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up to his. “Where else would I be?” His kiss left a smile on her lips. “How long do you expect to stay in Tampa?”

She retied the scarf, the silk slipping over her fingers. “I’m not sure. I think we’re all planning to hang out here for as long as Avery needs us. And I’m not sure where Maddie and Kyra are going to end up.” She felt a restlessness she didn’t understand. It was hard enough to absorb Deirdre’s death and the loss of the show. She’d been a loner for much of her life; now she wasn’t sure how she’d handle being without Maddie, Avery, and Kyra. Or Joe, if it somehow came to that.

“Do Over wasn’t the most stress-free or financially rewarding thing I’ve ever done, but if it’s over I’m going to have to figure out what I want to do when I grow up.” She tried for a light tone but couldn’t quite achieve it.

“Look, I know this isn’t the moment to push for any kind of decision. But I love you and I’m pretty sure you love me. And I think it would be very cool to finish growing up together.”

“I do love you. But the rest of it . . . I don’t know. I can’t seem to think all that clearly right now.” Tears welled. She who had faced most of the disasters in her life completely dry-eyed seemed ready to spill a waterfall at the slightest thing. “Who knows how long we even have? Look at what happened to Deirdre.”

Joe squeezed her hand. “I think what happened to Deirdre is a huge sign not to put things off. Because none of us really know how much time we have left. It doesn’t have to be complicated, Nikki. I want to spend my life with you. Exactly how we do it, well, I guess that part is open to negotiation.” Joe leaned across the console and kissed her. “But don’t make me pull out the big guns. Nobody’s more persuasive than Nonna Sofia. I think she gave the Godfather lessons.”

Nicole watched him stride to the counter broad shouldered and confident. He was a man who loved wholeheartedly and was more than strong enough to be leaned on. She on the other hand wasn’t sure she possessed the nerve to risk her heart and had never really learned the art of leaning. She hoped she could learn to do both before he gave up on her.

The paparazzi were still jostling each other outside the Hardins’ later that afternoon when the UPS truck arrived. Kyra had been staying away from the front of the house, but she and Dustin were alone when the delivery guy carried a package up the front steps and rang the doorbell.

She waited for him to leave it, figuring she’d wait until his back was turned to retrieve the legal-sized envelope. His brown-clad back might hide her and she was afraid to leave anything outside that one of the photographers, frustrated by the lack of photographable activity, might help himself to.

The doorbell rang again.

She peered through the peephole. The UPS man held up the envelope and the electronic signature thingy he carried. She studied him for a long moment. He had a fringe of short dark hair, Clark Kent glasses, and a bit of a paunch straining against his brown uniform jacket.

Kyra opened the door. “I’ll just need your signature, ma’am.” He turned the signature device toward her.

The voice didn’t match the man in the uniform at all. In fact, it was . . . “Daniel?” A smile tugged at her lips.

“Don’t smile,” he said quietly. “And for God’s sake don’t laugh.”

“Sorry.” She’d seen him as an old man, a high-heeled woman, and most recently a pool maintenance man. The last time she’d seen him all he’d been wearing was a smile. “Brown’s a good color for you.”

“Thanks.” He flashed his dimple at her. “Here. Take your time signing.”

“Do you want to come in?”

“Too suspicious, I think. Do you normally invite delivery guys inside?”

“Only if they’re really cute.”

His dark eyes flashed behind the glasses.

“Only joking. Why are you here?”

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Her heart did that horrible flip-flop that she was still trying to control. “Thanks. It’s awful, but we’re doing all right.”

“Good. Dustin?”

“He’s fine. He’s napping right now. Did you want to see him?”

“Can’t. I think we’ve been talking longer than normal.”

She’d signed for as long as she thought she could get away with. “So what’s in the envelope? Or is it just a prop?”

“It’s the deed and the key to Bella Flora.”

Obviously she’d misheard. She peered again into his eyes. He looked completely serious.

“I don’t understand.”

“I bought it for you and Dustin. I was just waiting for the right time to tell you.”

“You might have brought this up on the Fourth of July, when we could have actually talked about it.”

“I was busy.” He winked at her.

She held the envelope tight against her chest. It was an incredibly sweet and generous gift. As long as it didn’t come with strings attached. “So you’re giving this to us free and clear,” she said carefully. “Even if I never sleep with you again?”

“Never sounds like an awfully long time.”

“Even so?”

“Even so.”

She leaned forward under the guise of asking him a question and placed a kiss on his forehead. “I don’t know if you realize just how much this will mean to all of us, but thank you. You’re much nicer than you sometimes act.”

“Can’t be an asshole all the time.” He smiled his movie star smile at her.

“Can I ask you one last favor?” she asked as he prepared to leave.

Daniel Deranian nodded.

“Give me some time to get an unlisted number before you tell your wife.”

“No problem. I’m in no rush to explain this to Tonja, myself.”

“And when you back the truck out will you see if you can mow down a couple of the paparazzi? Just to even out the playing field a little?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said with a UPS-deliveryman-like nod. “Give Dustin a hug from me.”