“That’s true. But I think ‘habit’ is the operative word.” Deirdre’s chin jutted forward. Her hands fisted on her hips.

It was like looking in a freakin’ mirror.

There was a strangled laugh and Avery turned her attention to Jeff and Chase.

“Sorry,” Jeff said, smothering his smile. “I just never can get over how much you resemble each other when you square off like that.”

“Well, I think orange dye on a woman is kind of sexy,” Chase said. “Add a little sawdust and . . .” He managed to shrug and leer simultaneously. “I’m a goner.”

Jeff guffawed.

“Fine. Laugh all you want.” Avery settled on a bag of mini pretzels. Which was a poor substitute for the air-filled cheesiness of her favorite snack. She was munching the little twists when the doorbell rang. “I’ve got it.” She strode to the front door and pulled it open. Kyra stood on the front porch with Dustin in her arms. Maddie stood beside them. She was already hugging Maddie when she spotted movement on the sidewalk.

“Hallo, Avery!” The voice was loud. The accent British. The tone overly familiar. The tabloids had gone crazy over Kyra from the moment they’d discovered she was pregnant with Daniel Deranian’s child. It had only grown worse since Dustin was born. “Are Deirdre and Chase inside?”

The photographer was tall and lanky. A pack of paparazzi jostled one another behind him. They looked completely out of place on the modest, tree-lined street. Like a pack of wolves hunting sheep in a grocery store.

A digital flash went off. Avery fell back a step.

“Come on, Kyra, luv!” the Brit coaxed. “Just one clean shot and we’ll be on our way.”

“That’s Nigel and he’s lying,” Kyra said with a shake of her head. “Last week in Atlanta I was at a drive-through waiting for Dustin’s Happy Meal when I heard his voice on the speaker. I hesitated for just a second, because you don’t hear all that many English accents at a fast-food place and I’d already paid for our food. A whole herd of them jumped out from a bush right next to the cashier’s window.”

Another flash erupted. Avery looked up and the flash went off again. She had a brief vision of what she was—and wasn’t—wearing.

“Avery. Darlin’,” Nigel urged. “If you can just get her to turn around for . . .”

Avery grabbed Kyra’s free hand and pulled her the rest of the way into the foyer. Maddie tumbled in after her. Avery shoved the door closed behind them.

“I’m so sorry,” Kyra said. “I don’t even know where they came from. I didn’t see anybody tailing us down from Atlanta. Although there was this really homely woman wearing what looked like size-thirteen shoes in the stall next to me at the rest stop.” Kyra sighed. “That’s how bad it’s gotten. I’ve been reduced to checking out feet in stalls! But I thought we were safe. I didn’t even think about wearing a disguise. Plus there was no way I was making an eight-hour drive in a burqa.”

Dustin rubbed his eye sleepily. One side of his face showed signs of contact with what must have been a corduroy car seat. His dark curls looked smashed from sleep.

Chase and Deirdre came into the foyer. Maddie set down their overnight bags. “I need to get Dustin’s booster seat and Pack ’n Play out of the car.” She squared her shoulders and turned back to the door with all the enthusiasm of a condemned prisoner about to face the firing squad.

“I’ll get them.” Chase took the minivan keys and offered a mock salute. “Cover me! If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, send reinforcements.”

“If I had a gun I’d gladly cover you,” Kyra said. “I don’t know how to get rid of them. I just keep praying that a real celebrity will show up to distract them.” She propped Dustin up in the crook of her arm. “I mean, where are Kim Kardashian and Lindsay Lohan when you really need them?”

Chapter Two

In the kitchen Kyra set Dustin in Jeff’s lap, and the little boy stared gravely up at him. Dustin had his father’s Armenian coloring and movie star looks but a solemnity that was all his own. Chase made it back intact, set up the Pack ’n Play in the guest room, and joined them at the kitchen table, where wine had already been poured and plates were being dished up.

Deirdre stood next to her chair eating up the praise for her pompano, which had emerged from its paper bag moist and delicious. Avery nibbled at hers tentatively, reluctant to admit just how good it was. It was impossible to sit at a dinner table with Deirdre and not think about all the meals she and her father had soldiered through after Deirdre had left. She could still remember how careful they’d been not to look at Deirdre’s empty seat at the table; the echoing silence without Deirdre’s tales of the days spent on the interiors of the spec homes her father and Jeff Hardin were building at the time; how much she’d missed the tidbits from the Hollywood gossip magazines that Deirdre practically inhaled—a form of forewarning neither Avery nor her father had recognized until after Deirdre had emptied her closet and drawers, stuffed it all into her car, and left without a backward glance.

“Do you have any idea who the Florida Keys house belongs to?” Chase asked.

“No. And I still can’t believe they won’t even give us an address until we get down there,” Avery said.

“Believe it,” Kyra said. “Lisa Hogan and her crew are all about injecting as much angst as possible into the proceedings.”

“We’re lucky they even told us we were going to be in the Keys,” Maddie said. “We’re supposed to rendezvous at Mile Marker 82 tomorrow at four P.M. to get the rest of the instructions.”

They ate for a while in silence. Even Dustin seemed to love the fish, which he ate both scooped on his plastic spoon and with his fingers.

“Have you been back to Bella Flora?” Maddie asked Avery.

Avery set down her fork as all eyes turned to her.

They’d arrived for a final Christmas together at Bella Flora knowing only that the house had sold. On Christmas Day they’d discovered that their mystery buyer was Dustin’s movie star father and his equally famous—and very pissed-off—movie star wife, Tonja Kay.

“We went by when we were out on the boat once or twice,” Avery said.

“If Tonja Kay lays a hand on Bella Flora I won’t be responsible for my actions,” Kyra promised. The movie star had threatened to rip apart the first floor of the 1920s beauty to put in an indoor pool. An idea that was tantamount to putting a McDonald’s in the Taj Mahal. Or ripping out the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and replacing it with mirrors.

“I’m sure she was just joking,” Maddie said, although none of them had seen any evidence that Tonja Kay actually possessed a sense of humor.

Kyra shook her head. “Nothing that woman does would surprise me. She thinks that just because she’s a movie star she can get away with anything.”

“Lots of celebrities do,” Maddie said. “But I’m sure there are some less ‘entitled’ celebrities out there. It’s probably like how no one bothers to do stories about teenagers who help little old ladies across the street or volunteer in soup kitchens. The vandalism and acting badly make much better copy.”

“Right.” Kyra’s tone was skeptical. But then, she’d been thrown off her first movie set at Tonja Kay’s insistence. And they’d almost lost Do Over when Kyra had refused to let the movie star add Dustin to the Deranian-Kay menagerie permanently.

“Did everything look . . . okay?” Maddie asked.

“There were No Trespassing signs all over the place, and I think they’ve installed a security system. But there’s no way to protect that perimeter without screwing with the view. I can’t picture even Tonja Kay walling off one hundred fifty feet of prime waterfront,” Avery replied. “I didn’t see any signs that anyone had moved in.”

“Had they made any . . . changes?” Maddie asked.

“Nothing I could see from outside,” Avery said.

“It wasn’t from lack of trying,” Chase said. “She had her face pressed up so tight to the glass that if they could dust for nose prints, Avery would already be in custody.”

“Well, if she changes more than a paint color or two, she’ll have to answer to me,” Deirdre said.

“We could maybe slip in and see for sure,” Kyra said.

“I know you’re not suggesting breaking and entering,” Maddie said. “The last thing any of us needs is for the police or Kyra’s paparazzi to catch us at it.”

“Are you kidding? Lisa Hogan would cream her pants over that kind of press,” Deirdre said.

“Maybe Nicole could get Joe to help us,” Kyra suggested.

Nicole Grant had stayed in Miami with Joe Giraldi, the FBI agent who just over a year before had tried to use her to capture her felonious, Ponzi-perpetrating brother, Malcolm Dyer.

Avery perked up. “Joe’s a professional. He could get in and out without leaving a trace. They’d never know who did it.”

“Yes, I’m sure there’s a huge pool of potential suspects,” Chase said drily. “Hundreds of people who would break into Bella Flora seeking retribution for vengeful redecorating.”

“We could just drain the pool. Or fill it with shaving cream,” Kyra said, wiping Dustin’s face and fingers. “Maybe hang toilet paper or condoms from the reclinata palm in the backyard.” Her eyes were bright with mischief.

Maddie looked at her daughter. “We gave Bella Flora a new lease on life and she did the same for us. We’re not going to lift even a figurative finger against her. I won’t believe even Tonja Kay is petty enough to abuse her.”

Avery didn’t argue, though they all knew that Maddie viewed almost every glass as half-full. Avery also set her jaw and managed not to comment when Deirdre received a round of applause for the meal she’d prepared, but it wasn’t easy.