Ocean Beach (38 page)

“Oh, your daughter and I have already had our talk,” Tonja Kay said, any hint of softness gone. “But in case the little cunt tries to keep it to herself, I thought you should know that we want joint custody of Daniel’s son. In fact, we’re thinking he might be better off with us full-time.”

The comment carried far more force than any of the expletives the movie star had uttered so far. Madeline had a brief and disturbing mental picture of her grandson being carted around as part of the Deranian-Kay circus. “That will never happen.”

“Don’t take that fucking tone with me,” the movie star snapped.

Madeline straightened her spine and her resolve. She was tired of this woman, tired of Steve, tired of the wall Kyra’s
involvement with Deranian had built between her and her daughter. She’d vowed when she told Steve off that she was done sitting back and taking whatever others felt like dishing out.

Madeline said, “I doubt any judge would choose a foulmouthed exhibitionist like you or your husband over a normal home and family.”

“You’ve got to be fucking joking. We’re fucking movie-star philanthropists!” Tonja shouted. “Last time I checked, fucking ‘normal’ didn’t come close.”

“I’m getting kind of tired of lecturing you about your language,” Maddie said. “But the last time I checked, ‘fuck’ was not an adjective.” She offered a mental apology to her long-ago charm class instructor, Mrs. Merryweather.

“The fuck it’s not. And I don’t think I need a fucking judge to make this happen.”

“Is that right?” At the moment Madeline might have embraced the comfort of a few hurled profanities.

“Oh, yeah,” the movie star said. “I just explained to your fucking—”

“One more ‘fuck’”—Maddie put everything she had into the expletive—“and I’m hanging up. Our conversation will be over.”

“I told your”—the actress hesitated as if unable to speak without her adjective of choice—“…daughter that the network—your network—wants me and Daniel and our children to star in a reality show. A show I’m pretty”—there was another pause where the word
fuck
would have been inserted—“…sure they want a lot more than some”—this time the pause was briefer—“…remodeling program.”

The actress hung up with a last strangled curse. Maddie stared down at the phone. She was still staring at it when
Kyra came in the front door cursing up a storm of her own despite the fact that the baby was sound asleep in her arms.

“I can’t believe this,” Kyra hissed above Dustin’s head. “I fucking can’t believe this!”

“Kyra!” Madeline admonished her daughter. “There’s no need for profanity.” Although she was no longer sure what a couple of unpleasant words meant in comparison to what was going on.

“But there is,” Kyra said. “There’s every reason for it. Tonja Kay wants custody of Dustin. She’s pushing Daniel to go to court to get it.”

“But Daniel’s not looking for that, is he? If he doesn’t want custody, then—”

“But that’s the problem, Mom. He thinks it’s a good idea. He actually thinks they have more to offer my son than I do. I just listened to thirty minutes of everything he and Tonja can do for him that I can’t.”

Madeline took Dustin into her arms. “Just take a deep breath and try to calm down, Kyra,” she said as the two of them walked upstairs to put the little boy to bed. “We’ll figure out something.”

“Like what?” Kyra asked, all but wringing her hands. “It’s not even just about me. Tonja told me that if I don’t agree to hand Dustin over, she’s going to go to the network and get
Do Over
canceled before it even airs.”

Faced with the enormity of Tonja Kay’s threat, Maddie knew that there was not enough air in the universe to make breathing a reliable relaxation tool. She tried to use the very real anger that simmered inside her to combat the worry that churned in her gut, but the adrenaline turned the
emotion into a fireball of panic that burned brightly inside her. Not surprisingly, she slept fitfully and spent the last hours before sunrise staring up at the ceiling listening to Dustin’s breathing and Kyra’s tossing and turning. Unable to stop thinking about the ramifications of Tonja Kay’s threat, she got out of bed bleary-eyed and on edge.

Too many cups of coffee later, Maddie sat on the scaffolding in front of the second-story window she was supposed to repair. Avery sat on one side of her in case Maddie needed any prompting. Andrew, her newly proclaimed assistant/apprentice, sat on her other.

Troy and Anthony stood on the front stoop shooting up at them, so that they could move easily between the exterior and interior, where Deirdre’s kitchen cabinets were being installed. Kyra stood on the upstairs landing shooting through the window.

“How many
Do Over
cast and crew members does it take to reglaze a window?” Avery quipped, but Madeline couldn’t even find a smile. Her brain scurried through worst-case scenarios at a speed that left her slightly lightheaded. She doubted anyone would be cracking jokes once they found out just how precarious things had become.

Unable to meet Avery’s eye, she looked down and noted that the number of photographers on the sidewalk had dwindled further. She attributed this to the headlines she’d seen in Max’s paper, and was grateful to the ditzy blond pop singer who had left her husband for one of her female backup singers and was now holed up at the nearby Colony Hotel. And also to the NFL quarterback who had been stopped on a DUI and emerged from his car stark naked. Madeline had never been so glad to see so much bad behavior in others.

“Are you ready?” Avery asked.

Madeline nodded, but without conviction. As she’d discovered the previous summer, when she’d been chosen for the task, reglazing was both torturous and tedious. It required intense concentration and a gentle touch, neither of which she possessed at the moment.

Still, she managed to scrape off the old paint and glazing compound with the putty knife and pull out the first broken pane of glass. She even pried off the paint-caked diamonds of metal that held each corner of the glass in place, and scraped off the rest of the old paint and compound without mishap.

“See, it’s just like riding a bike,” Avery said. “You just have to get the feel of it back.”

Maddie’s fingers moved awkwardly in the latex gloves and sweat popped out on her brow as she set the new piece of glass in place.

Avery reached over and mopped Madeline’s brow. Mario, who’d claimed he’d just come out for some air but who stood next to Kyra watching Madeline like a worried mother hen, gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Andrew smiled encouragement and said, “Looking good, Mom.”

“Thanks,” Maddie said, but her thoughts were consumed with a barrage of unanswerable questions: How long would Tonja Kay give them before she went to the network? What possible chance was there of surviving and winning a custody battle against two such public figures? Was there any chance at all that a network would choose an unproven show like
Do Over
over a PG-rated version of Deranian-Kay and Friends?

Her hands shook as she considered Nicole and Avery and Deirdre’s circumstances. Unless Bella Flora sold before they
got dropped, what would everyone live on without the Lifetime series they’d pinned their hopes on?

She fumbled twice, unable to affix the point to the corner of the new glass as her mind filled with images of Daniel Deranian and Tonja Kay displaying Dustin for the cameras on
their
new reality show. The glass cracked in her hands. “Shit!”

Avery handed her a new piece of glass. “It’s okay,” she said in a soothing tone. “You can do this. You just need to concentrate.”

Andrew took the broken piece of glass and set it out of the way.

“Okay.” Madeline drew a steadying breath and reached for the glazing compound, demonstrating for Andrew how to roll it into a thin, snakelike piece and press it around the edges of the glass.

“Cool,” Andrew said when she managed this without breakage. “What happens next?”

“We go inside to straighten the seams and seal the pane.” She wanted to smile at him, but her lips, like her fingers, felt wobbly and out of control. “And then we move to the next broken pane and go through the whole process again.”

She did not want to think about reglazing as a metaphor for her life, but it was hard to miss the similarities.

“How many of these do we have to do?” Andrew asked.

Madeline appreciated the use of the word
we
. Unlike his father, who had once again retreated when she needed him most, Andrew had stepped up to the plate. He performed the tasks he was given to the best of his ability and without complaint.

“A lot,” Maddie answered. “But if we split it up between
us—I do the outside portion and you do the finishing steps inside—it’ll take half as long.” Yet another life truth.

“Good idea,” Avery said.

“I’m really glad you’re here, sweetie,” Madeline said to Andrew as they climbed down the scaffolding and made their way inside. But no matter how hard she tried to focus on the positive, and no matter how deeply she breathed while she was doing it, the worry and panic refused to recede.

The move into the pool house took a little over an hour if you didn’t count the time it took to negotiate who would stay where and why. Kyra had suggested that the Lifetime crew move to a hotel, but in the end Max invited Troy and Anthony to bunk in his room, Andrew took over one of the couches in the living area and Avery, Deirdre, and Nicole took one room while Maddie, Kyra, and Dustin took the other. The bathrooms, now divided by gender, were nicely updated, but like the rest of the building were not designed for nine adults and a baby. Nicole’s idea of heaven was rapidly changing from financial security and a once-again-thriving business to a bathroom of her own. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask.

“Is it my imagination or are the walls bulging?” Avery asked.

“I don’t know, but there’s stuff everywhere,” Madeline said.

“Well, at least most of us have beds,” Deirdre pointed out.

“Which is a lot better than the mattresses on the floor at Bella Flora,” Kyra added.

Nicole winced. They were all so damned eager to look for that silver lining.

“It’s just for another few weeks,” Madeline added. “Right, Avery?”

“Yeah. Pretty much,” Avery said.

“Could you be a little more specific?” Nicole asked.

“Well, I’m figuring the reglazing should be done by tomorrow.”

Madeline nodded and managed something approximating her usual smile. Nicole knew she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed its absence. Andrew sent up a fervent “yahoo!”

“And the kitchen?” Madeline asked.

“The bottom cabinets, the countertops, and the new backsplash are in. The wall-hung cabinets should go up in the morning. The appliances will be delivered in the afternoon,” Deirdre said. “I’m just waiting for the banquette to be reupholstered and the light fixtures to be delivered.”

“So, after tomorrow I’m figuring somewhere between ten days to two weeks to paint the interior and refinish and reseal the floors.” Avery counted it out on her fingers. “Then the exterior gets painted—we’ll do the cut-ins and Sunshine Painting will handle the rest, like we’re doing inside. Another day or two for the landscaping—a master gardener at the Miami Beach Botanical Garden has taken over the coordination.” Avery considered her tally. “Yes, I think we should be done in about three weeks, which will put us right before Labor Day. Assuming Mother Nature cooperates.”

Nicole noted Avery’s omission of the tropical storms that continued to crop up. And the fact that hurricane season kicked into high gear here in August and September. She
wished she could omit last summer’s memories of them cowering in a bathroom while a storm named Charlene pummeled the Gulf coast of Florida. She looked from face to face and knew that she wasn’t the only one currently stifling fears of a repeat performance.