Wendy Wax - The House on Mermaid Point

The wrought-iron banister beneath their hands was chipped and the gouges in the pecky cypress walls impossible to miss as they ascended to the second floor. But even as they toured the laundry room and two small bedrooms and baths at the front of the house, the part of Deirdre’s brain not busy calculating space, opportunity, paint colors, furniture, lighting, window treatments, and the million other details that would be a part of the final design—even as she watched Avery sketch and scribble, undoubtedly mentally moving walls and evaluating the physical structure—returned to the stunning view.

In the master suite, which spanned the entire eastern end of the house, she noted William Hightower’s simple, almost spartan taste and the way in which every slider and window drew in the view. As they leaned out over the railing of his private deck, once again struck silent by what nature had wrought, Deirdre reminded herself that this was why William Hightower lived here. And that this, not just its reluctant celebrity host, was why guests would pay big bucks to stay here. Whatever they did inside this structure could never, should never, compete with what lay outside it.

Thomas Hightower showed them out. The others headed back to the houseboat, leaving Deirdre and Avery standing in the clearing contemplating William the Wild’s once-glorious island home.

This house was not as chopped up and neglected as Max Golden’s Millicent or as filthy and forlorn as Bella Flora, but it was not exactly an easy fix—or even a string of easy fixes. This house and the other structures on Mermaid Point were going to have to be skillfully carved up, completely updated, and turned into a retreat that multiple unrelated people could inhabit comfortably and with privacy.

The challenges were considerable, the working conditions less than stellar. But Deirdre had no doubt that Mermaid Point could be turned into a high-end destination if only Avery could let go of her hurt and anger long enough to allow a true collaboration.

Early that afternoon Avery stood on the upper deck of the houseboat watching Thomas Hightower, who was leaving Mermaid Point for home, stow his carry-on on the skiff that idled at the dock, when Chase’s call came in. She could hear the whine of power tools and male voices in the background and knew Chase had called from a construction site, but his voice in her ear was crisp and clear as they greeted each other.

“So, what’s the story?” he asked. “Who does the house belong to? And what’s it going to take to convert it?”

“We’re actually on a private—” she began.

“Oh, wait, just a sec.” The mouthpiece was covered and she heard Chase’s muffled voice talking to someone. “Sorry. There’s a problem with the foundation here and . . .”

She watched Thomas step down into the boat then turn to help Maddie on while Hudson settled a baseball cap on his bald head, untied the lines, and pushed them off. She’d tried to get her mother to go onshore with Maddie, which would just happen to leave Avery on her own to study all the structures on the island, but a trip to the grocery store had not been inducement enough for Deirdre or the camera crew.

The boat putted away from the dock, then rounded Mermaid Point and slipped from view. Chase was back on the line. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This place is just crazy today.”

“No problem,” she said, gathering her thoughts. “But it’s a bit complicated. Because this house is on a private island and—”

“Damn. Sorry.” Chase cut her off again. “I’ve got to take this. It’s Dad.”

This time she was put on hold.

The whine of the skiff’s motor faded into the distance. It was hot and humid. Twin trickles of sweat slid down her back and between her breasts. If it weren’t for Troy and Anthony, who seemed to be shooting everything that moved, she would have already stripped down to her bathing suit.

“Oh, man.” Chase’s voice pulled her back from her musings. “His appointment with the specialist has been moved up to three o’clock this afternoon. And Hamden made the playoffs.” Hamden was Josh and Jason’s high school, where they both played for their baseball team. “The first game is at five. And I need to hit two more sites before I go pick up Dad.” There was a blip of silence on the line, indicating another incoming call. “Nope, not gonna take it. Go ahead and tell me. How big is the island and who’s the high-profile owner?”

Avery filled him in at top speed, unsure how long he’d be able to ignore the incoming beeps and sound effects of calls going to voice mail.

“Wow, William Hightower,” Chase said. “Wasted Indian was huge. I remember ‘Mermaid in You’ coming out when I was just a kid. I always loved that song.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t know what kind of money that level of success throws off, but he hasn’t spent any of it on this place in a long time.” Her eyes ran up a piling to the second floor of the boathouse, taking in the warped boards and chipped paint.

“I wouldn’t mind a gig on a private island,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said, wishing he were here now. “If we weren’t trapped and stuffed into a houseboat, I think we’d all be a little more excited about it. It’s gorgeous and there’s a huge amount of potential. But Hightower’s not particularly on board for any of this—his son set up the whole thing. It’s pretty clear he’d be happy to see us sail off into the sunset. Which is pretty spectacular here, by the way. Almost as spectacular as the sunrise.”

“You were up at sunrise?”

“Well, no, not exactly. I might have been, though, if the island rooster’s internal clock wasn’t so screwed up.”

Chase laughed. She pictured him with his head thrown back, the humor glinting in his blue eyes.

“So, listen,” he said, “I found the name of the head of the planning board down there. I’ll text it to you. And I put a call in to Mario”—Mario Dante was a member of a family of fine artisans who had helped them return Bella Flora and the Millicent to their former glory. “You know, just to see if he has any family that far south or knows any of the construction people down there.” He paused, his hand going over the mouthpiece briefly, then continued. “And I—”

“Thanks, Chase. But I’m fine.” Or she would be once she figured out what and who they needed. “I have Mario’s and Enrico’s numbers in my phone if I need them. And I’m fairly certain I remember how to place a call.”

“You’re rolling your eyes at me, aren’t you?” he asked. “I can practically hear it.”

Avery gritted her teeth.

“And now you’re probably gritting your teeth.”

“Good God,” she said. “I’d think you had a webcam stashed somewhere if we weren’t in the frickin’ middle of nowhere.”

“I know you, Avery. And I love you. But you have a stubborn streak you could drive a semi through. The network won’t know or care where you get your crew from or who refers them to you. You don’t have to go out and recruit every single one of them yourself.”

She remained silent. But she could feel her jaw set. She wondered idly if he could “hear” that, too.

“And don’t ignore Deirdre. She can be a big help if you let her. I know you don’t want to hear it, but the woman is at the top of her game in interior design.”

“Are you finished reading my mind, listening to me think, and telling me how to deal with Deirdre?”

She let the silence spool out.

“Possibly.”

“Good. Then why don’t you tell me how the spec houses are doing,” she said. “Do you still have someone interested in the Jamerson Street bungalow?”

“No, I guess I’m not done, because I’m definitely not going to let you change the subject,” Chase said. “Every time you want to disagree with Deirdre or shut her out, think about the fact that she took that bullet for you.”

Avery stared out over the ocean, which was layered in blues and greens, the intensity of color downright hypnotic.

“She gave birth to you, too,” Chase continued. “She just went on . . . hiatus for a while.”

“Right, just a mini breather from parenting for, what was it, twenty-plus years?” Avery hated the whiny note in her voice. But every time she thought she’d come to terms with Deirdre’s abandonment, felt ready to move on, the hurt resurfaced. Like an infection that had developed a resistance to antibiotics.

“I know,” Chase said gently. “She screwed up big time. But she’s back and she seems determined to stay. You don’t have to get all mushy—none of us would recognize you if you did. But you can be civil. And you definitely need to consult with her on the plans.”

“Right,” she said agreeably, very glad he couldn’t see her face right now. Or actually read her mind, which was still bent on finding a way to evade Deirdre so that she could go back through the structures on her own. “You may be right. I’ll take that into consideration.”

“Avery . . . I can tell by that tone in your voice that—” Another call sounded on the line. “Aw, hell, it’s the bank. I’m going to have to pick up.”

“Take care,” she said as he hung up, relieved not to have to lie outright to him. But no matter what Chase or certain other people expected, she had learned to fend for herself as a kid after Deirdre left. She sure as hell didn’t need her now.

* * *

Bud N’ Mary’s was relatively quiet when Maddie pulled back into the parking lot late that afternoon. She’d taken her time, first driving north on U.S. 1, pulling over occasionally to let impatient drivers pass, as she attempted to take in her surroundings. She turned around in the Whale Harbor Marina parking lot to head south toward the Publix grocery store in Marathon, which would take her over bridges and causeways with great water views and allow her time to get acclimated.