Page 101 of Ten Beach Road

Thirty-four

From her perch at the highest point of the scaffolding where the living room chimney met a large section of angled roof, Avery kept an eye on the activity below as the first wave of designers unloaded furnishings and accessories at tightly controlled intervals and began to set up the rooms and spaces they’d been awarded.

In the back, a long garden hose snaked across the pool deck and emptied water into the resealed and newly tiled pool. Big cardboard cartons containing outdoor furniture sat waiting to be unpacked. Any and all exposed pipes had been reburied. Renée Franklin’s landscape plans, delivered just yesterday, included a bed of flowering perennials to camouflage and mark the area.

Deirdre buzzed in and out of Bella Flora, seemingly everywhere at once, managing the ebb and flow of workmen and designers with a calm efficiency that was difficult to dismiss. Even from this height and distance, Avery could tell she was reveling in her role of Queen Bee.

Baked by the sun and knocked out by the one-two punch of heat and humidity, they broke for lunch around twelve thirty, heading for the pool house, which was the only space that currently possessed both air-conditioning and seating. Kyra, now too bulky and off center to climb the scaffolding, painted what she could reach in the early mornings before the heat became unbearable and then spent the rest of the day shooting video of Bella Flora’s final transformation. She was already seated at the kitchen counter when Avery and Madeline staggered in out of the heat. A half-eaten sandwich, a tall glass of milk, a jar of dill pickles, and one of the more sensational tabloids sat open on the counter in front of her. Tears streamed down her sunburned cheeks.

“I thought we agreed we weren’t reading those rags anymore,” Madeline said, striding to the tiny kitchen to remove the tear-stained publication.

“We agreed not to waste money on them.” Kyra scrubbed at one cheek. “It was free. Someone slipped it under the door. I found it on the floor when I came in.”

Maddie pulled the perennial pitcher of iced tea and the cold meats and cheeses out of the refrigerator, positioning herself directly under the air-conditioning vent. Nicole headed straight for the bathroom, so Avery squeezed by Maddie to wash her hands in the kitchen sink.

“What crap are they writing now?” Avery dried her hands on a paper towel and reached for the tabloid. A picture of Daniel Deranian and Tonja Kay walking arm in arm, their heads bent together, on an undisclosed beach carried the headline “Reconciled!” An incredibly unflattering profile shot of Kyra standing alone and pregnant on the sand-strewn path to the jetty had been inset beside it with the caption, “Already Forgotten?”

Maddie took the stool next to Kyra and the still-open tabloid from Avery as Nikki came out of the bathroom and began to assemble a sandwich. A ringtone sounded and they all checked their phones. As the distinctive notes of “There’s No Business Like Show Business” played out, Avery followed the melody to Deirdre’s mattress, where she ran a hand over the sheets. Finally locating the cell phone under the pillow, she answered, knowing that Deirdre was expecting a call from a salvage house. “Hello?”

“Glad I caught you, Dee. I’ve been calling all morning.” The voice was female and rushed. She clearly thought she was talking to Deirdre.

Avery opened her mouth to explain but didn’t get a chance as the voice continued in the same rush. “I just wanted to congratulate you on all the publicity you’re getting down there. When you told me about Deranian’s little girlfriend, I knew it was a gift from the PR gods. And those YouTube posts with you leading the charge are pure gold!” There was a delighted chuckle. “We’re in a perfect position to negotiate with that moron at Lifetime. I still can’t believe they dropped you. And to think they thought you were too old to pull the demographic. Ha! Wait until they see how often your name is popping up now on the Internet.” The woman was on a roll. “Those young designers don’t know shit and they don’t have the A-listers you do. Tonja remembers that freebie you did for her when she was stinking up the box office a couple of years ago. There are a lot of celebrities who still want to work with you.”

At the bar, Madeline flipped the pages of the tabloid. Nicole slid her plate to the empty spot at the bar and climbed onto the stool. Kyra munched on a pickle; the tears still streaming. But the everyday realities seemed almost surreal to Avery as Deirdre’s true motives and manipulations became clear.

“Dee?” The woman behind the voice finally seemed to realize she was the only one talking. “Deirdre? Are you there?”

“Sorry. You’ve got the wrong number.” Avery hung up. Even as disappointment spiked through her, she chided herself for expecting anything else. Deirdre could spout all the bullshit she wanted about making amends and trying to reconnect. For Deirdre it was “business as usual,” and as usual the business that mattered most to Deirdre was Deirdre.

There was a sharp intake of breath at the counter.

“Oh, my God!” Madeline said. “There are pictures and paragraphs about all of us.”

Nicole went still at the counter. Kyra sniffed and swiped at her nose with the back of her hand.

“I’m the over-the-hill desperate housewife,” Madeline said, wrinkling her nose and turning the page. The irritation in her voice grew. “With the pregnant, celebrity-obsessed daughter.”

Madeline skimmed the article with her forefinger. “Avery’s the former airheaded HGTV star who was booted out in favor of her ex-husband.” She winced and shot a sympathetic glance at Avery. “Deirdre’s apparently our savior.”

Avery closed her eyes against the added insult. When she opened them, Kyra had lifted her video camera to shoot their reactions.

“But I don’t see anything about . . .” Maddie’s voice trailed off as she creased the paper at the fold and brought it closer to her face. The room grew quiet with an uncomfortable anticipation. All eyes, and the lens of the video camera, were now on Maddie.

“The most surprising member of the cast at Ten Beach Road is celebrity matchmaker and dating guru Nicole Grant,” Madeline read out loud. She looked up briefly at Nikki, who’d gone so still Avery wasn’t sure she was breathing. “They’ve got a whole list of your highest-profile matches and marriages.” Maddie looked down again and went back to reading. She looked at Nicole, then back down at the paper again. Her voice tripped over the next lines. “. . . Who in yet another bizarre twist also happens to be financial bad guy Malcolm Dyer’s older sister.”

Madeline stopped reading. There was a silence so massive a caravan of semitrucks could have driven through it.

Avery moved to the counter, Deirdre’s offenses already fading in the light of this revelation. Her gaze, like Madeline’s and Kyra’s, was now fixed on Nikki.

“Is that true? Are you really Malcolm Dyer’s sister?” Kyra asked.

“Well . . .” Nicole began.

“Are you or aren’t you?” Avery asked.

Nikki’s gaze darted between the three of them, quick and furtive, like a fly trying to assess from which direction the fly swatter might come.

“Answer the question!” It was Maddie, usually the peacemaker, who refused to let her off the hook.

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