Sunshine Beach (26 page)

Bella Flora's doorbell chimed with increasing frequency late Monday afternoon as guests began to arrive for what had been billed as a casual cookout but which Avery envisioned as a rallying of the troops and an opportunity to try to explain to Annelise and Renée what was, and was not, happening.

Maddie had been in preparation mode since early that morning making bowls of homemade potato salad and coleslaw, forming hamburgers stuffed with a cheese, bacon, and mushroom mixture that would have had Avery salivating if she hadn't been so nervous.

Careful not to get in Maddie's way, she'd filled a cooler with beers and soft drinks for Chase to take outside to the loggia and had helped Jeff settle at the wrought-iron table near the grill so that he could help supervise. Her heart had almost stopped with gladness when Roberto Dante's houseboat, which she'd christened the
House of the Rising Sun
down in Islamorada due to the cabin roof's streaks of pink and red paint, had appeared just off the seawall. Her heart had started beating again when the carpenter had beeped and waved before turning to head toward the St. Petersburg
Yacht Club at Pass-a-Grille, where John and Renée Franklin had organized a boat slip.

“I think his engine is smoking,” Chase said as the houseboat putted east through the pass into the bay for its short trip north.

“I'm pretty sure it's not his engine that's smoking,” Avery replied. Although she'd never seen him handle a hammer while stoned, the carpenter's tie-dyed clothing, long gray ponytail, and soul patch weren't the only part of the seventies he'd clung to. “I hope the yacht club is a tolerant sort of place and that no one ends up with a contact high.”

“It is kind of hard to believe he and Enrico are related.”

Avery smiled at the comparison. Even Mario, a South Florida master plasterer and tile man who'd helped with the Art Deco Streamline home they'd renovated on South Beach, had been far more conservative. “Their life choices are pretty different, but the Dantes are all incredibly talented. None of our renovations would have turned out half as fabulous without them.”

“It's all in finding the right people for the right job,” Jeff pronounced just as her father always had.

She nodded and smiled but she felt akin to a passenger on the
Titanic
who'd just realized there was no room left in the lifeboats. Nothing about this project had gone as hoped or planned; how exactly were they supposed to put a good spin on that?

“It'll be all right. We can pull off this renovation.” Chase squeezed her hand.

“Not without money we can't,” she said quietly.

“Don't look at the whole thing. Just focus on the next hurdle. Then the one after that.”

Avery resisted pointing out that her legs were far too short for track and field. “Enrico's waiting for Roberto at the yacht club and will bring him over as soon as he's tied up. I guess we'll hash this out when we've got everyone under one roof.”

Dustin played nearby in the playhouse replica of Bella Flora that his father had given him their first Christmas on Pass-a-Grille. The tool belt she and Chase had given him was strapped around his small hips. As she watched, he retrieved a child-sized screwdriver and pretended to tighten a screw.

The doorbell chimed again. With Maddie handling kitchen duties and Nikki still MIA, Avery went to answer it. She opened the door to John and Renée Franklin, who flanked Annelise.

There were hugs all around. Annelise carried a bakery box. Renée held a bunch of fresh-picked flowers and a bottle of wine. Avery escorted them back to the kitchen, where Maddie took the cake box from Annelise and accepted the fruits of Renée's garden with exclamations of delight while Kyra filled bowls with snacks. Avery pinched a Cheez Doodle and examined its puffy cheesiness as Maddie made Renée, John, and Annelise welcome. Within moments each had a cold drink and were basking in Maddie's attention as she pulled a vase from a cupboard and began arranging the flowers into an impromptu centerpiece. Avery popped the Cheez Doodle into her mouth, determined to enjoy its puffy perfection as the Franklins followed Kyra outside. She was licking the cheese coating from her fingers when the doorbell rang again.

“I'll get it,” Avery said. “But where's Nikki?”

“In her room,” Maddie said, giving the centerpiece a final tweak.

“I don't know why I asked. She's been in there all weekend.” Avery pinched another Cheez Doodle, which she wasted no time examining.

“She's still pretty beat up. Said she was worried about scaring people.”

The doorbell rang again.

“I'm coming, hold your horses.” Avery devoured the Cheez Doodle and then began to lick the cheese from her fingers. It was a calming and satisfying ritual. “I'd really like Nikki
to be a part of the discussion tonight.” With a last lick she left the kitchen and headed for the foyer.

She opened the door to a stooped and wrinkled older gentleman with a shock of white hair hanging over one eye. A Colonel Sanders mustache drooped on either side of his mouth. “Ma'am.” He removed his planter's hat and bowed slightly. “I do believe I've been invited to a cookout here.” The drawl was pronounced. The hand that swept the white hair off his wrinkled forehead was dotted with age spots.

“Oh. Come in.” She stopped just short of calling him “colonel.” “You must be a friend of the Franklins.” And, she hoped, a potential sponsor. “Let me take you to them.” She led him down the central hallway, walking slowly, mindful of his age and his measured steps behind her.

Steve Singer looked up from the beer he was drinking when they stepped out onto the loggia. Troy began to reach for his camera. Kyra froze for an instant, then gave him a shake of her head.

When Avery and the elderly gentleman reached the table, John Franklin looked up curiously, but it was Dustin whose face lit up.

“Dundell!” He ran at the old man as if he was planning to jump into his arms. Avery reached out to intercept him.

“It's all right, young lady.” The man's voice was still old and slow, but there was something new in it. Avery turned to see the man's face begin to change. A dimple appeared from nowhere. His smile as he opened his arms to the little boy was quick and dazzling.

“Dundell!” Dustin launched himself into the man's arms. “You comed to git me!”

“I sure did, Dustbin! I never could fool you.”

Kyra looked up, and for a brief moment her face looked as happy as her son's. Troy glowered at the movie star. Steve Singer got up, offered a curt nod, and walked inside.

“I take it this is not, in fact, Colonel Sanders come to
deliver a bucket of extra crispy.” Chase smiled and reached out a hand. “Chase Hardin.” He shook the liver-spotted hand quite vigorously. “This is my dad, Jeff. Dad, I'm pretty sure this is Daniel Deranian.”

Daniel winked and smiled his movie star smile, complete with gleaming white teeth. As he straightened and allowed his true self to emerge, it became difficult to understand how she could have been fooled so completely. With a shrug Avery headed back to the kitchen. Hearing raised voices, she hesitated in the hallway.

“Just who does he think he is?” Steve demanded in an almost childlike whine.

“I think he knows exactly who he is,” Maddie replied tartly. “He's Dustin's father. He's also the person who gave your daughter, and by extension the rest of us, this beautiful roof over our heads.” Drawers were yanked opened and slammed shut. Silverware rattled. “And I think you need to try a little harder to remember that.”

Impressed with Maddie's assertiveness, Avery poked her head in to the kitchen. “Anything I can do to help?” She looked meaningfully at Steve, hoping that Maddie would ask her to show him to the door. Or allow her to encourage him to take a long walk off a short pier.

“Steve's going to go help Chase light the grill,” Maddie said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Can you let Nikki know that dinner will be on the table in twenty-five minutes or so?”

“What, you're not planning to send a tray up to Her Majesty?” Avery asked.

Maddie turned the cease-and-desist mother stare she'd been aiming at Steve on Avery. “I don't think she's feeling any better than she looks. It'll do her good to come down. But be gentle.”

Avery snorted, marched up the stairs. She knocked briskly on Nikki's bedroom door.

There was no answer or movement. Avery knocked louder.

“Go away.” The voice warbled noticeably. “I don't feel good.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Avery said. “But you need to come downstairs.”

“I can't come down. I'm . . .” The voice trailed off as if its owner simply didn't have the strength to finish the sentence.

“You have to come down,” Avery replied through the door. “We're going to be explaining the issues with the renovation and the budget and we need a show of solidarity.”

“I'm sorry. I can't.”

“You mean you won't.” Avery felt her temper rise.

Nikki didn't respond. Nor did she open the door.

Avery jiggled the doorknob. She had the oddest urge to put her shoulder to the door and force it open.

“Go away!” The voice had gathered power. “I told you. I'm not coming down.”

And people called
her
stubborn. Without debating the advisability of what she was doing, Avery reached into her back pocket, pulled out the screwdriver she'd used earlier, and stuck it into the center of the knob. One twist and the lock popped open.

“Hey!” Nikki's voice was indignant. But there wasn't a whole lot of energy behind it.

“Sorry.” Avery pushed the door open and walked into the bedroom. Nikki wore ragged cutoff shorts and a hacked-off T-shirt. She sat on top of the rumpled covers with her legs drawn up to her chest. Avery had never seen her so poorly dressed, not even on Mermaid Point in the sauna of a Keys summer. The sight of Nicole's raggedy clothing was almost more frightening than the black eyes, the swollen cut lip, and the huge lump on her forehead.

“Wow.” Avery came closer, unable to take her eyes off Nikki's battered face. “I think this is when you're supposed to say, ‘you should see the other guy.'” Avery winced. It actually hurt to look at her. “Only there is no other guy.”

“I can't come down like this.” Nikki wrapped her arms around her legs, rested her chin on her knees.

The doorbell chimed downstairs. The sound of the door opening and Maddie's greeting reached them. It sounded as if the Dantes had arrived. “You do look like shit,” she conceded.

“Yeah, well, that's not exactly a news flash.” Nikki sighed, which made her look even more pathetic.

“Listen, I'm sorry you don't feel good. But Maddie said to bring you down. We need someone who can put a good spin on things. My face gets all red and blotchy. I totally suck at it.”

“While I'm highly skilled.” Nikki's voice had turned droll. Which was slightly better than pathetic.

“I didn't mean that exactly,” Avery backpedaled. “But you were a matchmaker. And that requires playing up assets and downplaying liabilities, right? It would help if you could, you know, highlight all the potential sponsors you think might still be interested.”

“There are no potential sponsors we can count on. Some of our sponsors have actually taken back part of what they pledged.”

“It's not like you to be so defeatist,” Avery said. “The Nikki I know doesn't give up as soon as things get a little tough.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do. Hell, I barely recognize myself.” The pathetic tone was back. “And FYI, I think we're way beyond ‘a little tough.'”

Avery stood not caring whether she jiggled the bed or not. “You know what? You go ahead and sit up here feeling sorry for yourself all you want. But just remember, it's not only yourself you're letting down.”

It was a tight fit around the loggia table, but Maddie thought everyone enjoyed the meal. By the time they'd finished it off with Annelise's Bavarian fruit tart and Kyra's brownies, the
sun was close to setting. Dustin drowsed in his father's lap presenting the oddest picture: Colonel Sanders and child. Maddie could practically see Avery building up the nerve to discuss the renovation, but it was John Franklin who exchanged a look with his wife and sister-in-law and said, “We noticed that things are not progressing on the property. Is there a problem?”

Avery squirmed in her seat. Large red blotches appeared on her cheeks. “We've encountered a few budget issues,” Avery said carefully. “A bit of a shortfall.”

“Meaning?” he asked.

Avery cleared her throat. “Meaning we haven't been able to raise quite as much money as we need to complete the project.”

“How much more do you need?” Renée asked.

Maddie would have given a lot for Nikki's calm confidence at the table even if it was a façade. Another blotch appeared on Avery's neck.