Ocean Beach (12 page)

“Yes, well, I didn’t have any instruction,” Deirdre said. “My mother didn’t leave, but she was even less of a mother than I was. When I had Avery I felt that kind of love, but it was no match for the fear I felt. I was so afraid I’d screw everything up.”

“I think she turned out pretty well,” Madeline said with a small smile. “A little ornery at times, but very strong and resourceful.”

“That was Peter’s doing. He was born to be a father; Avery’s father,” Deirdre admitted. “You should have seen her following him around his construction sites in that little pink hard hat he gave her.” Her smile turned lopsided. “I couldn’t compete with that. And in the end I bungled everything. But I’m determined to get it right this time.” One eyebrow went up. “I guess it’s too late for a pony?”

Madeline laughed. “Just a little.”

They sipped their wine for a few moments as the shadows
lengthened and the day drew to a close. “Showing love and being a mother is a highly individual thing,” Maddie said. “It’s not like there’s a course with a syllabus and homework assignments.”

The bottle was almost gone. Deirdre poured the last of it into their glasses and raised hers to her lips.

A car pulled into the driveway. A door slammed somewhere in the house and Deirdre knew that the time had come to ask for what she wanted. She sincerely hoped Madeline wasn’t going to laugh in her face.

“But there could be, couldn’t there?” Deirdre asked, setting down her glass. “Some sort of informal syllabus or list of suggestions?”

“I’m sorry?” Madeline said, her brow furrowing.

The garage door rumbled up and Dustin’s cry sounded from upstairs.

“I have a feeling that I’m missing something,” Maddie said. “What is it that you want?”

Deirdre fingered the stem of her wineglass and looked Maddie square in the eye. “I want to learn to be a real mother.” She heard a humiliating note of desperation in her voice, but was powerless to disguise it. “And I want you to teach me how.”

Their first officially observed sunset in Miami took place a few nights later on The Millicent’s stern-shaped deck. Although Avery had already explained that this would be more of a business meeting than their traditional “toasting” whatever good thing they could dredge from their day, she was careful not to mess with the eating-and-drinking portion of the ritual.

Nicole led the way up the gangplank carrying a blender of frozen strawberry daiquiris and was followed by Kyra with a second pitcher of the icy pink concoction. Madeline brought napkins and paper plates, one of which was piled high with the little hot dogs in blankets that had been a sunset staple at Bella Flora, while Avery balanced a tray of glasses and a bag of Cheez Doodles. The women barely nodded to Troy and Anthony, who had planted themselves at the base of the stairs to record their parade up the gangplank.

Nicole poured drinks as they settled into the neon-colored beach chairs that Maddie had salvaged from the previous summer. Deirdre, who was already dressed for dinner with a former client, set a large foil-covered tray on a battered plastic table and dragged it toward Avery.

When she was certain she had Avery’s attention, Deirdre unwrapped an artfully displayed assortment of Cheez Doodles, cheese puffs, and Cheez-Its. There wasn’t a toast point, a caviar jar, or any foie gras—Deirdre’s usual contribution—anywhere in sight.

There was laughter.

“Is this your idea of a joke?” Avery asked, not seeing the humor.

“No, it’s my idea of indigestion,” Deirdre said, handing Avery a paper plate of Cheez Doodles and a neatly folded napkin. “But I know how much you like artificially colored cheese-food products.”

Pinkie up, Deirdre took a small bite of a Cheez Doodle and chewed tentatively. She grimaced as if in pain as she swallowed, then contemplated her orange-stained fingers.

“Thanks,” Avery said as Deirdre passed the hors d’oeuvres. And then because she couldn’t help herself: “They really taste better out of the bag.”

“I think it was very nice of your mother to serve something she knew you’d like,” Madeline said.

All of them looked up at Maddie’s use of the word
mother
. Deirdre flinched and braced, as if waiting for Avery to object to the term, but Avery wasn’t about to debate Deirdre’s lack of qualifications or claim to the title. There were things that needed to be accomplished tonight. Slapping down Deirdre wasn’t one of them.

“Right,” Nicole said, raising her glass. “But I’m voting for something a little more elegant and a lot less orange next time.”

“They did have a gourmet, no-artificial-coloring version,” Deirdre said.

“Good God, no,” Avery replied. “That would suck the pleasure right out of them.”

They sipped their drinks for a time with only the low buzz of insects and the sharp slap at the occasional blood-seeking mosquito to break the silence. Maddie had arranged the chairs facing west, and for a few long moments they watched the golden ball of sun shimmer in the sky and reflect off the glass of the condo buildings that lay between them and Biscayne Bay. They were farther removed from the display than they had been at Bella Flora, but the show was well worth watching just the same.

Licking a cheesy finger, Kyra stood and walked to the opposite corner of the deck, where she leaned over the railing and scanned the backyard. The baby monitor was clipped to the waistband of her shorts.

“What are you looking for?” Maddie asked.

“I want to make sure the dastardly duo isn’t hiding behind some bush or up a palm tree aiming a parabolic microphone our way,” Kyra said. “I wouldn’t put anything past Troy Matthews.”

When she was satisfied that they were not under covert surveillance, Kyra plopped back into her chair. “I can’t believe what a mess everything is,” she said. “I was so excited about the opportunity to shoot and produce a series. Karen Crandall seemed to be so on board with our vision for
Do Over
that we didn’t spell enough of it out in the contract.”

Avery sighed. She had been there, done that, and already
owned the T-shirt. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. Even if we had covered everything, there wouldn’t have been much we could do if they changed their minds. The only power we ever really have is to walk away. And none of us are in any position to do that.”

Kyra stilled.

“How can you be so calm?” Kyra’s voice was as tightly clenched as her hands. “I thought we were shooting and producing a television series about redoing really interesting houses for important reasons, but we’re really just starring in a reality-TV show. The only thing missing is the professional athlete husbands and the outrageous amounts of money.”

Watching Kyra’s troubled face, Avery saw herself, shocked and horrified by what her role on the HGTV show
Hammer & Nail
had become. How her then-husband Trent had become the star of the show Avery had conceived and sold, while Avery, a trained architect who had grown up on her father’s construction sites, had been reduced to pointing and gesturing and smiling—a role that had caused a whole slew of additional IQ points to be deducted.

“It sucks,” Avery said. “But you have to remember that the sole purpose of television programs is to sell products. The more viewers, the more the network can charge for commercial time. And right now reality shows are hot—the more intimate and revealing the better.”

“That’s what Lisa Hogan said.” Kyra wrapped her hands around her now-empty glass. Fading sunlight bathed her in its glow. “Troy and Anthony don’t answer to me—or us—in any way,” she said. “It was a major coup to get her to agree to any camera-free zones or time frames at all.”

Kyra drew a breath and set her glass down. “I may as
well tell you now that the only way I got her to agree was by telling her that we’d walk otherwise.”

There was a shocked silence. Avery’s heart lurched painfully in her chest. Deirdre swore softly.

“You did what?” Nicole asked. Like the rest of them, her face reflected horror.

“I couldn’t get her to agree to anything or give us the slightest concession. And she was so smug about having us at her mercy.” Kyra was practically wringing her hands. She looked at her mother, but Maddie appeared as shocked and horrified as the rest of them. “She told me that Dustin’s fair game. That his being Daniel Deranian’s son is one of the reasons they gave us the show in the first place.”

“Jesus,” Nicole said. “You had no right to do that.”

“I know,” Kyra said, clearly miserable. “I know and I’m—”

“We’re in this together,” Avery said. “No one has the right to put the show at risk like that without discussing it first. No one.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.” Kyra shook her head. “I just…” Her voice trailed off as the first tears fell. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Maddie closed her eyes. “Thank God she didn’t call you on it.”

They sat in silence for a few long moments absorbing what might have happened.

Nicole refilled everyone’s glass, but no one suggested a toast.

“Are we clear?” Avery asked when she trusted herself to speak again. “No one, not even me, takes that kind of risk without a vote.”

Kyra nodded. Maddie reached out to give her daughter’s arm a squeeze, but it was Deirdre who turned the
conversation. “Has Deranian seen Dustin? Do you speak to him?”

Kyra shook her head, but quietly, her mind no doubt still on her confession and their reaction. “The only person I’ve heard from is Daniel’s business manager,” she said. “Daniel hasn’t shirked his financial responsibility, but he hasn’t made any effort to see Dustin either.” She took a long, glum sip of her daiquiri. “I think I’m pretty much over movie stars.”

Maddie lifted her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

“Falling for Daniel wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done. That’s for sure.” Kyra paused, her eyes filled with regret. “I gave him a lot more credit as a human being than he deserved.”

“It was like that with Trent,” Avery said, going with the conversation. “Everything was great until I got to know him and actually understood him.”

Nicole drained her glass. “That’s why the ‘strong silent type’ is so popular,” she added. “As long as they keep their mouths shut, we can imbue them with all kinds of intelligent thoughts and attractive personality traits.”

Avery looked to Maddie, who’d been married far longer than any of them, expecting an argument, but Maddie busied herself with her drink.

Kyra’s laugh was rueful. “I’ve screwed up all around. With Daniel. With the network. I feel really stupid for showing up here and expecting so much in the first place.”

“Kyra, you’re twenty-four years old,” Maddie said, back in full mother mode. Unlike Avery’s “mother,” who seemed far more “faux” than full. “You’re bound to make mistakes. And if you don’t expect a lot, you can’t get it. Lowering your expectations isn’t the answer.”

“Then what is?” Kyra met Avery’s gaze.

“I’ll have to get back to you on that,” Avery said. Her heart was still hammering far faster than she’d like. “But I do have confidence that we can handle the network crew. I mean if we don’t give them the conflict and hysterics and backbiting they’re looking for, maybe we can shape this show the way we want it.”

“Do you really believe that?” Nicole asked.

“I think so.” Avery considered the question and their situation. “Based on their skewed perception of the show, we—
not the house
—are the whole enchilada. But they’re going to have to shoot the things we want shot to get us.”

“And we’ve got you,” Maddie said to Kyra. “You had no problem documenting the renovation at Bella Flora as well as all the personal issues that nabbed the network.”

“And you have our best interests at heart,” Deirdre added.

“Most of the time anyway,” Nicole threw in.

They considered one another as the sun slid farther down the sky.

“So you just make sure you get all the video you need,” Avery said. “And we’ll be careful not to give them what they’re looking for.” She looked around, meeting everyone’s eyes, holding on to Deirdre’s. “We don’t want anyone besides Max performing for the cameras.”

“Who me?” Deirdre raised the platter of Cheez products and offered it around, completely overdressed for the ramshackle deck and the hors d’oeuvres in her hand.

“Got it,” Kyra said, reaching for her camera.

“Good.” Avery popped a Cheez Doodle in her mouth and chewed, but was careful not to show any sign of
appreciation for its greasy, cheesy airiness. “Maddie will be in charge of our next sunset, which I’m sure will be back to our regularly scheduled one-good-thing. But right now there’s a last critical item of business.”

The sun had disappeared behind the condos and the last bits of color leached from the sky. Avery could feel Madeline, Kyra, Deirdre, and Nicole’s expectant gazes.

“Troy and Anthony aren’t the only stumbling blocks the network has thrown in our path,” Avery continued carefully. “They’re just the most visible.”

“And annoying,” Kyra said from behind her camera.

“Our budget—or rather our lack of budget—is a serious problem. And like the crew, it’s intentional. They know there’s no way we can do this house justice on the amount they’ve made available. They can’t wait to see us squirm.”