Ten Beach Road (38 page)

“I don’t know,” Maddie said. “We’re up to fifty thousand views, which means Bella Flora is getting some pretty broad exposure. And most of the comments have been really positive.”

“Some of us don’t see ‘not bad for a bunch of old broads,’ as particularly positive.” Nicole’s tone was dry. “Ditto for ‘where’s the button to vote people off this reality show?’ ”

“I thought the ‘we want more of the hunky guys’ comments were pretty positive,” Chase said, coming to join them.

“I’m pretty sure they were referring to Giraldi and Umberto,” Avery said.

Giraldi, who now stood in the open doorway, took a mock bow and struck an exaggerated muscle pose. Nicole gave Giraldi a once-over. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

He just smiled and flexed. Once again Avery wondered what was up with them.

“My favorite was ‘almost as entertaining as Foreman vs. Frazier,’” Deirdre said. “I’m pretty sure that one was about you and Chase.”

Everyone got a big yuck over that, but Avery was not amused. She didn’t have the energy to argue about video and was far too busy thinking about what still had to be done and how they were going to accomplish it to get sidetracked by all the weird vibes zinging between her and Chase. Not to mention living in even closer proximity to Deirdre, who’d turned out to be not at all as expected. And far more valuable to all of them than Avery would have liked.

Today Deirdre had gotten Chase and Giraldi to mount an additional towel bar and decorative hooks in the tiny bathroom. With Maddie’s help she’d organized a rolling clothing rack, a dresser, and a temporary shelving unit for their clothes, somehow managing to fit in the necessities and still make the space surprisingly stylish.

She did all this while impeccably dressed and in full makeup. But although she looked like the Design Diva the television shows and magazines had always made her out to be, she didn’t actually whine, demand, or complain. She just got things done. Her determination to establish a relationship with Avery hadn’t wilted under the living or working conditions. When the going had gotten tough, she’d gotten going. What she hadn’t done was turned and run.

“I think we need to put a big sign outside that says, Girls Only, No Boys Allowed,” Avery said.

“Yeah and we can have a secret handshake. Maybe even a password.” Nicole’s tone remained dry.

Avery looked up and noticed that once again Kyra was filming it all.

Broad shouldered, Chase and Joe pretty much filled the doorway. “That’s all right. We don’t want any of those girl cooties anyway,” Chase said. “Do we, Joe?”

“I don’t know, I’m thinking panty raid.” Joe grinned and shot Nicole a look, which she pointedly ignored.

Avery wished she could tune out Chase as easily, but she always felt so damned . . . aware of him. Pretending to ignore someone wasn’t at all the same as actually not noticing them. Still, she couldn’t let her adolescent reactions or the fact that she’d been stupid enough to kiss him keep them from doing what had to be done, not when they were getting so close to the finish line.

She caught up with Chase beside the pool. “When will we be able to start on the floors?” she asked, careful not to get close enough to get caught up in all that zinging.

“The belt sander’s up in the master,” he replied. “I’ve got my floor guy scheduled to start first thing in the morning.”

Avery nodded. After the initial sanding, a coat of stain would be applied, then a coat of polyurethane, which would sit for twenty-four hours. This would be followed by a light sanding and a last coat of poly. All in all a week to ten days should see the floors ready for foot traffic.

“Of course both sets of stairs and the edges and thresholds will have to be sanded by hand.” Chase looked her in the eye, and she caught herself remembering the way he’d looked at her as he moved in for the kiss. “I figure if we put all five of you on that, we can get the first pass done in two days and be ready to stain.”

Avery closed her eyes and groaned, though a grunt would have been more appropriate. “Oh, God. I don’t have the heart to tell Nicole or Maddie just how tedious and backbreaking a job that is.”

“I can get my guy and his people to do the whole thing,” Chase said easily, and she wondered if he were a better actor than she was or simply didn’t feel all that zinged between them. “But it’ll be pricey. We can cut the overhead significantly if you all handle the staining, too.”

The grunt rose in her throat and Avery bit it back. Having to agree with Chase was almost painful, but he was right; she’d much rather keep that money in their pockets. “All right,” she said finally, meeting his gaze while being careful not to be drawn into it. “But you can do the demo and get everybody started. You can be the slave driver that everybody hates. I could end up banished from the clubhouse.”

He nodded but didn’t look away. His eyes dropped to her lips, and she knew exactly what he was thinking about.

“And about that kiss?” she said, pulling his gaze back up to meet hers. “I think we should pretend it didn’t happen. Because of course it shouldn’t have. And we don’t ever want it to happen again.” She realized she was blathering and stopped, not caring one bit for the glimmer of amusement that had stolen into his eyes.

“Are you listening?” she asked, off kilter now as he’d no doubt intended.

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “You want to pretend that we didn’t kiss the hell out of each other in the pool house.”

“Um, right.” He was standing too close again, making it difficult for Avery to catch her breath. If they hadn’t been outside she wouldn’t have had enough air to breathe. “So what do you have to say about that?”

He shrugged. “What is there to say other than ‘what kiss?’ ”

 

 

Madeline had thought glazing was tedious, but it had nothing on hand sanding. At first when Chase gave them each a piece of two-by-four wrapped in sandpaper and explained that they’d be using it to sand the edges up against the walls of the rooms, the thresholds, and then the balusters and front edges of both sets of stairs, she’d squinted at the small block of wood in her hand and assumed he was joking. He wasn’t.

Without even a hint of a smile he’d positioned them around the upper floor and put them to work. She and Kyra started in Avery’s back bedroom, away from the electric sander and the fine wood dust it kicked up. Kyra sat on her rear and attacked a small section at a time before scooting along to the next section. Her video camera sat on the floor nearby and her head bobbed to some tune playing on her earphones.

They were supposed to finish the upper floor and begin on the stairs before the end of the day. It had only been an hour and a half and her hand was starting to cramp and her shoulders ached; she’d barely made it through the L of one bedroom wall.

The loud whir of the sander in the master bedroom prohibited conversation, but it also camouflaged the muttering and the groans. Deirdre and Nicole each had a front bedroom while Avery worked her way down one side of the hallway.

When it was—thank you, God—at last time to break for lunch they hobbled downstairs and fell into kitchen chairs. Even Maddie was too tired to contemplate so much as spreading peanut butter over a slice of bread. Through one of the kitchen windows she watched Chase Hardin conferring with the steam heat guy Nicole had found them in New York. When her neck could no longer support her head, she folded her arms on the table, laid her forehead on them and thought longingly of her mattress in the pool house, which just went to show how relative the concept of comfort could be. As she closed her eyes and tried to regroup, she did her best not to think about what Steve was or wasn’t doing. She hadn’t been able to speak to him since his cryptic email and had the sense he was avoiding her, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to give up all hope.

If there was anything she’d learned from working on Bella Flora, it was to focus on one task at a time and refuse to be overwhelmed by the enormity of what still had to be done. She would not be Chicken Little or the Little Red Hen. She’d be that ant in the proverb who consumed the elephant one small bite at a time.

Kyra, who sat at the opposite end of the table, raised her camera to pan across their ravaged faces. Even Deirdre, who’d spent the longest in the pool house bathroom that morning, looked tired and disheveled.

“Really?” Nicole asked, apparently unable to mount a full protest. “Do you have to?”

Kyra shrugged. With her hair pulled up in a high ponytail, the big gray eyes and the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, she might have been twelve except for the rounded belly and bulging breasts. Maddie knew that Kyra still clung to the hope that her hero, Daniel, was going to swoop in and carry her off into the sunset, but since the call from Tonja Kay, they’d established a certain détente; Kyra no longer voiced her expectation, and Maddie no longer tried to break her of it.

“We’re getting too many followers both on YouTube and Twitter to just disappear now,” Kyra said.

“Oh, joy,” Maddie thought, raising her head. She did not want to think of all of those strangers watching and commenting on their daily struggle.

The doorbell rang, and they all looked at each other, silently willing someone else to get up and answer it.

“I couldn’t get up right now if it was Ed McMahon with a check for a million dollars from the Publishers Clearing House,” Nicole said.

“Ed McMahon’s not delivering checks anymore. He’s dead,” Deirdre said. “Johnny, too.” She said this with regret.

“I don’t care,” Nicole said. “I wouldn’t even get up if he came back from the other side especially to deliver it.”

“Me, neither,” Avery chimed in. They turned to Maddie as if she were going to get up any minute and go to the door, but she couldn’t even make herself walk the five feet to the refrigerator.

Chase poked his head into the kitchen, saw them drooping around the table, and strode to the front door. Maddie couldn’t imagine moving that quickly ever again.

All of them perked up when he reappeared with two pizza boxes emitting the most heavenly smell. He’d barely set them on the table when the first was thrown open and they were reaching for slices.

“Bless you,” Deirdre said. “Remind me to tell your father what a good boy you are.” She took a large bite and sighed with the same degree of pleasure she’d previously reserved for caviar and the other delicacies she and Nicole occasionally bought for their sunsets.

“I agree.” Maddie dragged herself out of her seat and went to the fridge to retrieve the pitcher of iced tea. Kyra struggled up out of her chair and went to the cupboard for glasses. “If I weren’t so busy stuffing my face I’d call him right now and tell him.”

“Me, too,” Nicole said between bites. “I’m going to email him as soon as I’m done eating.” She licked her fingers and then beat Avery to the last piece in the first box. Kyra flipped open the second box and helped herself to a slice.

“It was very sweet of you to provide lunch today,” Maddie said. Her shoulders still hurt and her back ached, but she could feel her spirits rise with each bite. She only had to make it through the rest of today and tomorrow. Chase had shown them the mop-like applicators they’d be using for the staining and sealing. Surely that would be easier than all this hand sanding. Like the ant versus the elephant, the floors were just one more bite.

Avery ate as rapidly as the rest of them, but she was eyeing Chase with suspicion. “There’s no such thing as a free lunch, ladies. Especially not where Chase is concerned.”

He smiled amiably but didn’t deny the accusation. “I can’t have you fainting from hunger,” he said. “And we don’t have time for hunting and gathering.” He reached over to pluck a stray pepperoni from the box. “We’re on a tight schedule.” He walked over to the counter and carried the napkin holder to the table. “Even monkeys need a banana now and then.”

 

 

Nicole gritted her teeth as she sat on the couch in the pool house and viewed that night’s YouTube posting. It began with shots of the last two days’ hand sanding and was cut to the theme song from the Monkees. Every other shot was a close-up of a female hand clutching a wood sanding block. The skin on those very different hands was scraped and bloody; the fingernails jagged and dirty.

In between the shots of sandpaper in motion were unforgiving close-ups of sweat-soaked faces, the set of hunched backs and shoulders. She cringed at the first glimpse of her own face furrowed in concentration, her age and discomfort clearly etched in the lines that bracketed her mouth and radiated outward from her eyes. Once again Kyra had demonstrated their monkey-like servitude, but had also managed to capture their grim determination now that the end of their labors was within sight.

Chase Hardin would undoubtedly get a good chuckle out of the video and its music track. Giraldi would probably enjoy it, too. The agent had been absent for the last four or five days, which both relieved and worried her as she continued to wrestle with whether to tell him about her conversation with Malcolm or assume that he already knew. She had no idea what her brother would think if he could see what he’d reduced them to. If he checked out Kyra’s YouTube postings, would he feel guilty or care in the least? All she knew for sure was that barely three weeks remained until August 25; she was running out of time to figure out her next move.

The music changed and drew her back to the video. She heard the plaintive “we-de-de-de” and then the “a-wimawehs” of “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” covered by shots of them sleeping on their mattresses in the sardine can of the pool house, their exhaustion apparent in the sprawl of their bodies beneath the sheets. The bright yellow ball of moon hung over the pass, clearly defined in the pool house window just as it was now.

In another five or six days when the floors were done and dry, the designers would take over the interior of Bella Flora and the monkey squad would move outside to help paint the exterior of the house. Avery said they’d be done sometime the week before Labor Day. Which meant she could go meet Malcolm on the twenty-fifth without arousing suspicion if she chose to.