One Good Thing Page 18

  Audio: Music up and under.

  Audio: “This is how the Sunshine Hotel and Beach Club—aka the land that time forgot—looked the first day we saw it.”

  Video: Dissolve to blue sky shots/seagull battalion, into renovation in progress.

  Audio: “We gave the Sunshine Hotel and Beach Club a DO OVER, because whatever the network, who shall remain nameless, thinks, that’s what we do.”

  Video: Close-ups sweating, Maddie, Avery, Nikki, and crew.

  Audio: “It wasn’t always pretty. In fact, it almost never was. Well, except for Ray Flamingo.”

  Video: Close-up Ray in pastel linen mime-whip cracking.

  Sfx: Whip crack.

  Audio: “While we were at it, we helped solve a mystery from the fifties.”

  Video: Shot of crime scene tape. Police and MEs on property.

  Music up and under.

  Audio: “And turned this fabulous mid-century hotel into a great place to spend the day, or to own a piece of.”

  Video: Dissolve to the Sunshine now—pool, lifeguard on retro stand, grand opening, kids running, ladies playing cards, close-up Ping-Pong, exteriors of cottages, landscaping. Rooftop deck. Hightower playing at grand opening.

  Audio: “Now it’s time for a SAND CASTLE SHOWDOWN!”

  Video: SAND CASTLE SHOWDOWN graphic. Beach shots/view from rooftop.

  Audio: “Come build something and enter to win one free beach club membership. Or come hang out on our rooftop bar and watch! Bring your kids, bring your family. Build on your own or field a team! Here’s the link!”

  Video: Entry link and details over sunset video shot from rooftop. Fade to black.

  Twenty

  Lori Blair did not sound like someone who dotted the i at the end of her name with a heart. She’d proven to be highly organized, unfailingly polite, and excruciatingly competent. But that didn’t make her an acceptable stand-in for Will that day when Maddie answered her phone during a rare solo stroll on the beach. Or any day for that matter.

  “Madeline?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Lori Blair. William Hightower’s assistant.” She said this as if Maddie might have somehow forgotten.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, but Will asked me to reach out to you on his behalf.”

  “Oh?” Even hearing the young woman refer to him as “Will” rankled. The idea that William had a “minion” calling her because he couldn’t be bothered to do it himself, as her subconscious put it, rankled further.

  The sun had grown weaker, causing the temperature to dip. The wet sand at the water’s edge was cool on her bare feet.

  “Is he all right?” Maddie asked. Because as far as she and her subconscious were concerned, the only things that would make this phone call palatable were broken fingers or a life-threatening illness.

  “Yes, of course,” Lori said. “He’s fine.”

  “So he asked you to call me rather than calling me himself because . . .”

  “Oh.” She took a minute to consider the question. “He took a trip with Hud to the Everglades to get his head in the right place before he goes on tour. I mean, a man can only swim so many laps, right?”

  Maddie thought of all the times she’d lain in Will’s bed listening to him swim off the stress and the daily temptation for alcohol and drugs. She sincerely hoped that Lori was listening from a less intimate location.

  “They’re camping out and pretty much avoiding civilization as much as possible. So cell reception has been spotty and recharging opportunities minimal. As you might imagine, the people at Aquarian Records aren’t at all happy about him being unreachable.”

  She listened to the smooth, confident, and undeniably efficient voice that belonged to a woman who possessed a disturbingly comprehensive knowledge of Will, his thoughts, and his feelings. It was a relief to know that Will hadn’t intentionally ignored her phone message, but she absolutely hated communicating through a female interpreter who seemed to be positioned at the center of his life.

  Maddie continued to walk, but the pleasure of it had begun to seep away just like the sunlight. She attempted to even out her breathing. “So what is it Will wanted you to tell me?”

  “Will asked me to let you know that he’d like to attend the, I believe it’s called the Sand Castle Showdown?”

  “Seriously?” She didn’t even know how he had heard about it.

  “Yes, he said he saw the YouTube post when they stopped for fuel.”

  “YouTube post?” Maddie asked dubiously.

  “Yes. I understand you have a full house, but if you have room for him, he’d like to build a couple of days with you onto the beginning of the tour. Or I could put him in a suite at the Don CeSar if that would be more convenient?”

  Maddie picked up her pace. She didn’t care one bit for how much this assistant knew about her, her family, or the current state of her relationship with William Hightower. For once she and her subconscious were totally in sync. “So he put you in charge of his sleeping situation?” She refused to believe that this young woman she’d never met was close enough to Will to be privy to that kind of information.

  “I handle everything for him.” Lori said this without one iota of embarrassment or doubt. “My job is to leave him free to create music and to perform at his peak.”

  Her subconscious snorted. Both of them wanted to know exactly what sort of performance Lori “with an i” was referring to.

  Maddie was no longer enjoying the solitude, the sand between her toes, or anything much at all. All she could think of was getting back to Bella Flora and not losing her temper in a way she’d regret. She fixed her eyes on a kite floating high above the beach and drew a deep, though not particularly calming, breath. “So this is the thing, Lori,” she finally said. “The next time you hear from your boss, you tell him he’s more than welcome here. Then you be sure and tell him that he’s going to have to discuss the sleeping arrangements directly with me.”

  • • •

  “It doesn’t work,” Bitsy said to Avery as she motioned to the apartment-size washing machine that was stowed along with its companion dryer in a small closet near the bathroom.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. I mean, I put the clothes and the detergent in like Maddie told me, and I even chose the water temperature and the kind of washing cycle I wanted.” Bitsy sounded extremely pleased with herself. “But it wouldn’t go on. I called maintenance, but they never sent anyone.”

  She checked Bitsy’s face to see if she was joking. “There is no maintenance department, Bitsy. Just like there’s no room service. Do you know who you spoke to?”

  “No. But I waited and waited.” She frowned and peered more closely at the washer. “Maybe it’s broken.”

  “It’s brand new,” Avery said. “I really don’t think it’s broken. Why don’t you show me what you did?”

  The clothes still sat in the washer. Now Bitsy reset the water temperature and the wash cycle with the kind of attention that normally accompanied defusing a bomb or handling radioactive materials. Then she pushed the GE logo with her index finger.

  “That’s a logo,” Avery said.

  “I know, but I couldn’t find anything that actually said ‘start,’ so I figured that must be it.”

  Avery blinked. She was fairly certain that Nikki had told them that Bitsy went to Harvard. “Did you try pulling the dial?” She pointed to the large round dial that Bitsy had used to set the wash cycle.

  “Why would anyone do that?”

  Avery pulled out the dial. Water began to rush into the machine.

  “Wow.” Bitsy’s tone was practically reverent. “You really are handy.”

  Avery was careful not to laugh as she pulled the manual from the shelf above the units. “A lot of them work that way.” She flip
ped through the booklet, folded it open to the right page, and handed it to Bitsy. “But here’s the step-by-step instructions.”

  Bitsy smiled.

  “Right, so can I show you the plans now?”

  “Sure.” They settled at the small dinette. Avery placed the floor plan and the pile of sketches on the table.

  “Boy, it’s really full,” she said, looking at all the built-ins that Avery had drawn into Bitsy’s one-bedroom.

  “This is the kitchen/dining room L.” Avery tilted the sketch so that Bitsy could see it clearly. “You see how it’s all connected. This is extra storage that’s been created. And here where we’re sitting will be this banquette that stretches under the entire window. With this high-low table, it can be used for a lot of things and seat more people than could fit around this little table.”

  “Interesting.”

  “And over there is the built-in that will provide more storage and allow the TV to be seen from the banquette and the sofa-sitting area. We could even use furniture to create storage. For example, we could stack three to four stools on top of the end table next to the sofa. When they’re in place, they turn into shelving, but you can take them apart and use them as extra seating when you have guests.” She pushed the sketch that illustrated both usages in front of Bitsy.

  “Cute,” she said noncommittally. “It looks kind of like the inside of a mobile home. I think.” She looked Avery in the eye. “I haven’t ever actually been in one, but that is what they’re like, right?”

  “Only in the sense that we’re maximizing space and making sure that everything does at least double, if not triple, duty. And I promise you that Ray Flamingo will not let this look or feel like your standard mobile home or RV.”

  Bitsy nodded, but she didn’t look at all convinced.

  “What do you think of The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up?” Avery asked. “Have you read it?”

  “Part of it.”

  “And?” Avery prompted.

  “Well, frankly, I feel bad that Marie Kondo, the author, spent most of her adolescence fixating on tidying up. I’m pretty sure she’s OCD. She used to even throw away her siblings things because it felt too cluttered to her. And although I’d like to have a number one New York Times bestseller under my belt, it’s kind of stressful reading. I mean I’ve already been forced to give up ninety-nine percent of my possessions and you’re taking care of storage for what little I have left. I don’t personally think that having less than I already do is going to magically improve my life, you know?”

  “Point taken.” With a wince Avery pulled out the rest of the sketches then pointed out the floor-to-ceiling drawers and cabinets that covered one bedroom wall as well as its built-in closet, and the platform bed that rested on and was surrounded by even more built-in storage. The outside storage she’d designed into the unit’s private walled garden barely elicited a glimmer in Bitsy’s eye. She felt a keen stab of disappointment as she realized that the design she’d been so proud of and excited about was yet another slap in Bitsy’s face.

  “I’m sure it will be very nice,” Bitsy said diplomatically but her lip had begun to quiver. “I may just not be visualizing it in a way that would show it to its best advantage. Bertie was the one who could look at a plan or sketch and see what a space could be.” Her eyes glistened with what looked like tears.

  Sherlock sat up, shook his head, and looked up at Bitsy. She lifted him into her lap and buried her face in his fur.

  “How are the entries for the Sand Castle Showdown coming?” Avery asked, eager to change the subject.

  Bitsy raised her face and smiled, though her eyes still glistened with unshed tears. “They’ve definitely picked up since Kyra posted and shared her YouTube video. Have you seen it?”

  “No.”

  “Well, you might want to. It’s a fun piece, but it does tweak the network’s nose.” She ran a hand over Sherlock’s head then down his back. “You know, when the lack of space here starts getting to me, I’ve been taking Sherlock for lots of long walks and I noticed the Gulf Beaches Historical Museum. It’s housed in what used to be a small church and they’ve got a ton of great information and photos documenting Pass-a-Grille.” She scratched Sherlock behind the ear. “I was thinking . . . The Sunshine Hotel is a local midcentury treasure. Maybe they’d like to participate in some way in the sand castle build.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Avery said, relieved to see Bitsy perking up.

  “Thanks.” Bitsy scratched Sherlock behind his other ear. The dog’s eyes fluttered shut. He appeared to be smiling. “Hey, you know what else might be cool?” Bitsy sat up. “Why don’t you build this unit with all the storage in sand at the Showdown?”

  “Oh, but, I don’t . . .” Avery stopped, thought. “That’s actually a really great idea.”

  “Yes.” Bitsy brightened. “I mean, they could see it in sand and then tour the shells and see the plans. All you’d need is sand and water and a team to build it. Maybe Hardin Morgan Construction could construct it.”

  Avery smiled as she began to seriously consider it. “That could be really cool. All the subcontractors could come work on the build and promote their companies at the same time.”

  “Yes,” Bitsy said with increasing enthusiasm. “It would accomplish a lot of things. It would call attention to the hotel and the idea of these special units. Maybe Franklin Realty could hang a tiny For Sale sign outside the sand reproduction.”

  “You’re a genius!” Avery said. “Participating in the Sand Castle Showdown will allow us to present everything we want in a really public and novel way.”

  “My dog, my brain, and I thank you,” Bitsy said more cheerfully than Avery had seen her. As Bitsy escorted her to the door, Avery thought about all that building the model out of sand would accomplish. Now all she had to do was convince Chase, Jeff, and all their subcontractors that spending an entire day building a sand castle was actually a good use of their time.

  • • •

  The speedboat idled just off Bella Flora’s seawall, its engine loud and throaty. Its sleek hull was painted fire engine red. White pinstripes ran down its sides.

  Dustin froze on the pool step like a hunting dog on point when he spotted it.

  “Who is it?” Maddie asked.

  “It’s Dandiel!” Dustin jumped out of the pool and ran toward the seawall, waving excitedly, his bright green puddle jumper swim aid/life vest flashing.

  Kyra sat up, jolted to her feet. “Dustin! Stop! Don’t get too close to the seawall.” She raced across the pool deck and snatched him up, lifting him to her hip, as Daniel flashed a white-toothed smile in their direction. His dark curls were wind-tossed, his bare chest gleamed smooth and golden. He tilted his head up and called out to them. “I came to take you both for a ride!” He motioned to the Cottage Inn next door. “Meet me at the dock?”

  “Boat!” Dustin shouted with excitement. Kyra tried to tamp down her own excitement. She wanted to replace it with irritation that he assumed he could simply show up without warning and whisk Dustin, and her, off anytime he felt like it. But the day was spectacular—a brilliant yellow sun hung in a bright blue sky over sparkling green water—and Dustin’s face glowed with happiness, his small body practically vibrated with it. She was glad he had not yet begun to question where his daddy went when he wasn’t with them or even how long he’d stay once he appeared. A smile claimed her lips without permission. “Be there in a sec!”

  “Going on Dandiel’s red boat!” Dustin proclaimed happily as Kyra stuffed T-shirts, flip-flops, towels, and sunscreen into a straw beach bag. Feeling her mother’s eyes on her, she invited her along.

  Maddie smiled back. “You two go have fun. You can tell me all about it when you get back.”

  On the dock Kyra handed the bag and then Dustin down to Daniel. It was hard not to grin back at him, even harder not to act like a si
lly schoolgirl as he reached a hand up to help her step down into the boat. She was grateful he wore sunglasses so she didn’t have to look into the too-beautiful brown eyes that were so hard to say no to. But it was the warmth of his smile and the protective arms that wrapped so securely around Dustin that made him so hard to resist.

  “Where are we heading?”

  “I was thinking maybe Fort De Soto if you’re up for it. I brought lunch.” Daniel indicated a large picnic basket and small cooler near the bench seat.

  “Wanna pignik!” Dustin announced with a smile that matched his father’s. “And see the fort!”

  “Done!” Daniel said. “Do you want to help me drive?”

  At Dustin’s squeal of excitement, Daniel sat back in the driver’s seat and settled Dustin into his lap. “I’ll get us out into the channel and then you can help me steer.”

  Kyra took the passenger seat, braced her feet on the dashboard, and closed her eyes, letting the salt breeze and happy chatter flow over her. Her awareness of Daniel made it impossible to doze, but she kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep, partly to let Dustin keep his father to himself and partly so that she could avoid temptation as long as possible.

  The boat picked up speed. When she opened her eyes, they were running along the massive Skyway Bridge, skimming in and out of its shadow. Just past a large island teeming with birds, Daniel made a right turn and slowed slightly.

  “Lookit the fort!” Dustin shouted as the remains of the Spanish outpost appeared at the end of a long sliver of white beach. Daniel eased off the throttle and angled in toward the beach, not far from where Chase had once brought them in the Hard Case back when she was pregnant with Dustin. He shut off the engine, and the bow of the boat slipped gently up onto the sand. Moments later she and Dustin had been handed down onto the beach and the anchor set.

  She spread the blanket and set out their lunch, which consisted of gourmet sandwiches, two of which turned out to be PB&J. The cooler contained chilled juice boxes for Dustin, soft drinks, and several miniature bottles of wine.