Wendy Wax - The House on Mermaid Point

“Well, you opened up the lines of communication. You don’t get to just close them off whenever the conversation gets a little difficult. And you sound about five years old right now.”

Will stowed his rod and folded his arms across his chest.

“Now you look about five, too.”

Jesus.

“Look. Maddie’s a great person and I appreciate what she’s done. But in a couple days she’ll be gone—off to live her real life. Believe me when I tell you she may have enjoyed her brief walk on the wild side, and maybe I didn’t nip it off as smoothly as I could have, but I promise you, I am not the kind of man that a woman like Madeline Singer belongs with.”

Tommy looked at him like he thought Will was full of shit but he just grunted, which Will sincerely appreciated.

“Come on.” Will moved into the driver’s seat. “Unstake the pole. Let’s head out to Crab Key and see if anything’s biting.”

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.