Sunshine Beach (27 page)

“To do everything we want to do and have it turnkey for a buyer/operator we'd need another two million dollars.” She swallowed. “At the moment we have enough to complete all the roofs and the pool and the decking and walkways, as well as the new patios.”

“But that's not even half of what needs to be done,” Annelise said.

“We have a lot of companies committed to the project,” Chase said. “A number of our suppliers have agreed to donate materials in exchange for television exposure. Most other materials will be provided at cost. So in many cases we're just looking at labor. I have a crew ready to start pulling up the old concrete and then we'll focus on the main building while Enrico and his crew begin on the roofs.”

John and Renée bent their heads together. Annelise stared out over the water where the final sunbeams glittered. Dustin was slumped against his father completely asleep. Daniel was listening and watching the conversation with interest.

Enrico stood and removed his baseball cap, held it between gnarled fingers. His bald head reflected the last glimmers of sunshine. “We can begin on the roofs and support beams as soon as we finish our current job in just a few days,” he said. “We, too, will need only enough money to pay for the cost of the materials and labor. I have put out a call to the
famiglia
.” He aimed a slight bow in Maddie's direction. “Even Mario has offered to come up from Miami to handle the plaster and any tile work if we need him. And I think to see the lovely Signora Singer.”

Maddie blushed at the reminder of Mario's gentle interest. Steve scowled. Troy and Kyra shot the proceedings from every conceivable angle.

Roberto stood next. His ponytail hung down between his knobby shoulders; his weathered skin resembled leather. “I'm here for the duration.” He bobbed his head gently. “I'm sure that between me and Chase and Jeff and their crew, we can handle all the carpentry. My good friend Fred Strahlendorf has asked if he can come up and take care of the electrical at cost.”

“And we still have potential sponsors to follow up with,” Ray said. “That effort is far from over.”

“Devotion is admirable, but what happens if you run out of money before you can finish?” John asked.

Daniel shifted Dustin into the crook of his arm. He looked as if he wanted to speak but remained silent.

“We're not going to let that happen,” Ray said.

“Avery, Nikki, and I have all agreed to put in what we have left from the sale of Bella Flora,” Maddie said, ignoring Steve's start of surprise.

“It's not ideal, but it's not unheard of to do a project in phases,” Jeff added. “Once the roofs are sound and the structures are weather tight, there's no longer a rush in dealing with the interiors.”

“But we can't let this drag on forever,” Annelise said.

“We've waited more than thirty years,” Renée said. “I think we can give them time to finish the project.”

“But what if they get halfway through and can't finish?” John asked. “That would present a lot of problems in finding a buyer.”

“We're not going to let that happen,” Avery said.

“I'd like to help,” Daniel said. “I could contribute to the renovation budget.”

Kyra lowered her camera. “Thanks,” she said. “I know we all appreciate the offer. But you've already done more than enough.”

“What if I just cover the amount the Franklins and Miss Handleman have invested?” he asked, looking at Renée and Annelise. “Plus whatever it would cost to tear down the structures in the extremely unlikely event the project couldn't be completed?”

“That's not going to be necessary,” Avery said again.

Maddie watched Daniel's face. He was offering hundreds of thousands of dollars with the same ease she might offer fifty.

“Then the money I'm offering isn't at risk,” Daniel said reasonably. “But it might make everyone more comfortable.”

Renée, Annelise, and John exchanged glances. It was John who gave the final nod.

It wasn't the kind of victory that seemed to demand a celebration. No one lingered long after the table was cleared. Daniel carried Dustin upstairs. Kyra trailed behind them, ostensibly to finish packing up Dustin's things; she'd agreed to let him go on location with his father, a decision Maddie knew would not sit well with Tonja Kay. Not that Kyra had asked Maddie's opinion or permission.

She gave the countertops a final swipe and brushed her hair off her face. She was tired, but also relieved. Nothing was going as well as any of them had hoped, but at least they could move forward.

The doorbell rang. For once Steve sprang into action without being prodded. She heard the front door open.

“Is Maddie here?” The voice was male. The sound of it had her removing her apron, swiping at her hair again, and hurrying toward the front door.

“Is she expecting you?” Steve's voice was belligerent; his body seemed to be barring the way.

Maddie stepped up behind him.

“There you are. I know it's late. We have rehearsal tomorrow in Tampa and . . . well, I apologize for taking you by surprise.”

“It's the best surprise ever.” She stepped around Steve in a hurry to get to Will. “This is Steve Singer. My . . . my ex-husband.” She drew a deep breath. Telling herself she was not responsible for Steve or his feelings, she completed the introduction. “Steve, I don't think you've been formally introduced before, but this is William Hightower.” She did not call him her boyfriend or even her main squeeze. She simply threw her arms around William's neck and kissed him.

Kyra reached over to grasp one droopy end of Daniel's Colonel Sanders mustache. Slowly she pulled it away from his skin. The white wig had been crammed into the planter's hat, which sat next to the discarded white jacket. His dark hair stood on end, sweaty from its confinement. White powder still coated his face and hands, obscuring his normally golden skin. Dustin slept in the center of her bed, one thumb tucked into his mouth, his index finger curled around the bridge of his nose. An open suitcase sat near him.

“If I'd known the paparazzi had completely abandoned you, I wouldn't have bothered with the disguise.” He rubbed at the glue that had anchored the mustache.

“They didn't abandon us. We bored them into going away.” It had been such a relief not to be constantly under surveillance.

“I wasn't joking when I told you that you need them, Kyra.” He pulled off the bushy white eyebrows as he spoke. “If you really want to create and air your own version of
Do Over
, you need more than money
.
You need an audience.”

“I wish you hadn't pledged that money. I don't want to keep asking you for things.”

“You didn't ask. In fact, you're one of the few people I know who never does. I was glad to do it.”

Seeing how ready he was for the subject to change, she went to the dresser to retrieve a pair of pajamas and a stack of shorts and T-shirts, then tucked them into Dustin's suitcase alongside a Pass-a-Grille sweatshirt and his favorite sneakers. “I've packed a week's worth of Pull-Ups. He does okay with big-boy underwear during the day—as long as someone's paying attention. But nighttime's a different story. He needs his . . .”

“I know, Kyra. I've done this before. And Dustin's not exactly shy about saying what he needs and wants.”

This was true. But that was surrounded by family. A movie set would be filled with strangers. “But what about . . .”

“Tabitha Marlowe is already in Montana. You saw her résumé and spoke to her references,” Daniel said. “She's the best there is, Kyra. Here's her cell phone number.” He pressed a piece of paper with the nanny's number into her palm. “She's got yours on speed dial. Plus there's a hundred-member crew. I promise there'll be no shortage of people keeping an eye out and showering Dustin with attention.”

This was also true. The production assistants and gofers would kill for the chance to get close to Daniel by showing an interest in his son. She shot him a look. She knew firsthand just how charismatic he was in person, how incredibly hard he was to resist, and what a talented actor he was. A talent he wielded freely and not just in front of the camera.

Carefully she retrieved Dustin's favorite books from the nightstand and began to rearrange the contents of his suitcase so that she could fit them in between his clothes. She applied herself to the task as if the location of each item somehow mattered.

“You could still be a part of that crew if you wanted to be.” Daniel moved up behind her. “I have a plane waiting.” He said this softly as he slipped his arms around her so that his body cocooned hers. “You could just come with us.”

For a moment she feared she was going to turn in his arms and surrender. She allowed herself to imagine abandoning all resistance, to feeling his hands and mouth on her naked skin.

She drew a deep, shuddering breath. It was only Dustin rolling over with a small mewling sound that saved her. Kyra turned her head and detached herself. Through the window she saw movement out near the pool. Her father. Who had smashed his quarter-of-a-century marriage and their family by giving in and focusing only on himself.

“No.” She turned to face Daniel but kept her distance. “There's no reason to risk pissing Tonja off more than usual. She may be able to live with you spending a few weeks with your son, and I'm glad you and Dustin will have the time together. But I guarantee you she'd never forgive my being a part of the visit. Besides, I don't belong on that movie set.” She looked out the window once more and saw her father sitting alone staring out over the pass. “If things were less complicated . . .” She shrugged. Things with Daniel would never be simple. “I appreciate the invitation, but even if I were a better actress than I am, I wouldn't be up for playing the role you're offering.”

A short time later she followed Daniel downstairs and out the front door to the waiting town car. The driver took Dustin's suitcase and the bag of Pull-Ups and stowed them in the trunk as Daniel buckled Dustin into the car seat and settled into the backseat beside him.

Dustin's eyes opened sleepily as Kyra leaned across Daniel to tighten the straps and kiss his forehead. “I love you, little man. Have fun with your dad.”

“Luff you.” His head lolled to the side. His thumb found its way back into his mouth as his eyes closed.

“You'll text when you land to let me know you both got there okay?”

Daniel nodded.

“And we'll FaceTime at least every other day so Dustin can talk to me.”

“You can talk to each other as many times a day as you want.” Daniel smiled. “We'll have a blast together and he'll be back before you know it.”

She nodded slowly. Watched Dustin's long dark lashes, so like his father's, flutter up briefly then down.

“But if you want to check on him yourself, or you need a break, the invitation stands,” he said quietly. “There's a lot more between us than just our child, Kyra. You know that, don't you?” His dark eyes held hers. It took everything she had not to answer or agree.

“Have a good flight,” she said finally. “Don't forget to text when you get there.”

It was his turn to nod. She stepped back as he reached to pull the door closed, then stood in the spill of the streetlight watching the black car disappear into the night.

She went back inside locking the front door and turning off lights. She'd been pregnant with Dustin the first time she'd seen Bella Flora. She'd also been hopelessly naïve and convinced that the movie star she'd fallen in love with would magically appear to sweep her and their child off to happily ever after. That wasn't exactly how it had gone, but she'd been far luckier than she'd deserved. Lucky to have her mother as an integral part of their lives, lucky to be a part of
Do Over
or whatever they could make of it, lucky to have this fabulous home that was big enough to hold all of them. Lucky that Daniel wanted to be a part of Dustin's life.

In the salon she snapped off the light and looked out at the pool deck. A light shone in the pool house, and she thought her father might have gone inside until she saw
movement on the chaise where she'd seen him earlier. Unable to leave him sitting in the dark by himself, she left the house and walked outside. The rising moon cast shadows on Bella Flora's pink walls and darkened her white trim. In the sunshine she often looked like a wedding cake fresh out of the bakery box. At night she felt castle-like, a fortress wrapped protectively around them.

Her feet crunched on bits of sand and gravel. There was movement on the chaise. “Maddie?” Her father's voice was painfully hopeful.

“No, Dad. It's me.” Kyra reached his chaise and perched on the edge of the one beside it. The moonlight did not flatter her father. His lips turned downward and his eyes were dark holes in his shadowed face. His arms were folded across his chest. Though he lay on a chaise beside a pool that overlooked the water, he was not the least bit relaxed.

“Of course it's not your mother. She's with that damned Hightower.” He turned and looked at her. “She's in her fifties for God's sake, and she's nothing but some rock star's booty call.”

Kyra stifled the laugh that bubbled up. Her father was completely serious. “Will's here?”

“Oh, he's here, all right. She took him up to her bedroom five minutes after he arrived.” He sat forward and turned his gaze toward the back bedroom where her mother slept. The blinds were closed. The light from a single lamp glowed softly.

“Dad,” she said gently. “They're in a relationship. You know that.”

“Hmmph!” He expelled a breath of air. “Don't you wonder why? That man could probably have anyone he wanted. What do you think he's doing with her?”

Any thought of laughter evaporated. “You're right, Dad. Will probably could have anyone he wanted but he was smart enough to choose Mom. And he knows just how lucky he is to have her. Something you seem to have forgotten a long
time ago.” She shifted on the chaise. “And he would never have had a chance if you'd treated her the way you should have. Or valued her the way she deserves.”

His jaw jutted out. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

“Don't I?” She leaned toward him. “I know who fell apart when you lost everything and who didn't.” Her own jaw jutted in anger. “And I know who thought about and took care of everyone else including you. And who only thought about himself.”

“You have no right to talk to me this way.”

“Maybe not,” she said, knowing her mother would agree with that statement. “But you have no right to say nasty things about my mother when all she ever did was try to take care of us.”

He looked away and she saw him blink rapidly. Something wet slid down his cheek and she realized with horror that he was crying.

“I never thought she'd leave me.” His tone was that of a little boy who'd been betrayed.

“You didn't even try to help her,” Kyra said, even further incensed by the whiny tone. “You just gave up and dumped our whole life on her. And then you were angry when she found the strength to carry the whole load.”

“I never thought she'd have the guts to leave me.” He swiped at his cheek. She heard him sniff but she couldn't leave it there.

“That's because you underestimated her. We all did. But she's one of the strongest people I've ever met.” She continued to stare at her father's shadowed face. “I hope I turn out to be half as good a mother and human being as she is.” She realized just how true the words were only as she said them. As a child she'd taken her mother for granted. But her mother had always stepped up to whatever challenge had been thrown at her. She'd survived the loss of everything they'd owned to Malcolm Dyer's Ponzi scheme. Then she'd
been the glue that held everyone together during that sweat-soaked summer spent bringing Bella Flora, their lone remaining asset, back to life. She'd found a way to turn every place they'd wound up together—even that god-awful houseboat on Mermaid Point—into a home. “And you're the one who started dating first.”

He grimaced. “I don't understand how she can be with that . . . that wild man.” Her father's voice remained a plaintive whine.

“William's spent a lot of time working on himself. And he appreciates her for who she is,” Kyra said. “You wanted her to stay the person you thought she was.”

He sighed, ran a shaking hand through his hair. “I came here hoping we could patch things up and I don't know, maybe give it another try.”

Kyra looked at him in surprise. “Really, Dad? Because I think you just want your old life back. You haven't done anything that would make her regret her decision since you've been here. All you've done is complain and find fault and expect everybody to wait on you.”

He closed his eyes. Shook his head sadly. “I can't believe it's really over. I don't know how I'll . . . Do you think if I . . .”

Kyra remained silent. But even as she watched the pain etched in his shadowed face, she sensed that the pain was about him and the loss of what he wanted.

“Well, I guess I better get to bed.” He sat up and swiveled. Slowly he began to lever himself off the chaise. “I'll be out of everyone's hair in the morning.”

“But where will you go?” Kyra stood, too. The breeze off the water was warm and heavy.

He shrugged again as he straightened. “I don't know. I'm not sure who I even am anymore. Not without your mother. I hope I'm not too old to figure it out.”

Kyra watched the play of moonlight on his face. Once she
had worshipped this man, had thought he could do no wrong. “Well, I know you're still my father. You can stay here as long as you want to.”

“And do what?” he asked quietly, his voice thick with sadness.

“You can stay here and help.”

Bella Flora was quiet the next morning when Nikki awoke. Except for the doorbell. Which someone seemed to be leaning on. She groaned, buried her face in the pillow waiting for someone to answer it. The doorbell kept ringing.

“Jesus!” Her brain fuzzy and her limbs heavy, she fought her way out of the sheets that were wound around her, and struggled to an upright position on the side of the bed. Which was when she noticed she was still dressed in the clothes that she'd been wearing for, well, she wasn't sure exactly how long she'd been wearing them. Without looking in the mirror or using the bathroom she so badly needed, she walked down the front stairs, moved to the door, and yanked it open. “What the hell do you . . . ?”