Page 25 of Ten Beach Road

Ten

They lingered over final cups of coffee trying, Nicole thought, to absorb the reality of their decision.

Getting up to throw out the paper goods and stack her tray on the counter, Madeline asked, “Are we really doing this?”

“Looks like it,” Nicole said as the three of them turned onto the sidewalk that paralleled the beach and headed back toward the house. “What are we going to do the rest of the day, work on our grunts?”

“I’m sure once we’re dealing with Chase the grunting will come naturally,” Avery replied as they passed Eighth Avenue.

“The first thing we have to do is get the house ready for habitation,” Madeline said.

“That’s going to take way more than a day,” Nicole pointed out, not at all looking forward to it.

“I mean ready enough to start sleeping there tomorrow night,” Madeline corrected. “If that’s still the plan?”

Nicole would have liked to stay in a hotel, preferably the Don CeSar and not the Cottage Inn, while they worked on the house, but she could barely afford another night in the old cottage with its ancient chenille bedspread and blonde fifties furniture. “Unless someone has a better one.” God, she’d love to hear a better plan; one that didn’t include all the unpleasant tasks that lay ahead.

They walked in silence for the next few minutes, mulling this over, but no one offered an alternative to the coming months of slave labor. An aging hippie pedaled by on a bicycle, offering a noncommittal wave, but car and pedestrian traffic was light. The long row of parking spaces fronting the beach were mostly unoccupied.

They all looked ahead rather than at each other, waiting for that first glimpse of Bella Flora. But when the multi-angled red roof line and upper story appeared over the unkempt front garden, the view, now that the rose-colored glasses had been ripped from their eyes, was not particularly reassuring.

“We can do this,” Avery said. “All we have to do is get a couple of bedrooms and a bath ready. The master’s unusable until we get the roof and ceiling repaired and that moldy carpet up.”

“Let’s make it all three of the other bedrooms,” Nicole said. “Camping out in that house is unappealing enough. I’m not planning on sharing.”

“And we’re going to want to use the kitchen,” Madeline added, her gaze skimming over the house rather than meeting theirs. “So we don’t have to run out to eat all the time.”

Nicole almost laughed at how careful they all were to sidestep the subject of finances. But would any of them be sleeping on a mattress on the floor if they didn’t have to?

“Itisa great house,” Avery said, but it sounded to Nicole as if the blonde were trying to convince herself. “It would have been criminal to tear it down.”

Madeline wore a look of resignation. Nicole felt too much anger and fear to be fully resigned, but the decision had been made. There was nothing to be gained in second-guessing it. “So I assume the first thing we need is cleaning supplies,” she said without enthusiasm.

“Yes. In massive quantities,” Avery agreed. “If we get started this morning, we should be able to be ready for the mattresses and all tomorrow. But I’m sure we’re going to spend weeks cleaning. That house has been pretty much unoccupied for years.”

“Then we need to go to one of the warehouse clubs,” Madeline said, leading the way to the brick drive. “I’m sure there must be one in the area.”

Nicole stared at her blankly. “A warehouse . . . club?”

“You know,” she said. “Like Sam’s Club or Costco, where you get a membership so you can buy big quantities of things for less.”

“I’ve never really needed anything in a big enough quantity to join one,” Avery said. “Do they have cleaning supplies?”

“A whole section.” Madeline said this as if this were a good thing. “Industrial and commercial strength, which we are definitely going to need. They cater to small business.”

Nicole couldn’t think of a single thing to add to this conversation. She’d spent most of her life working so that she wouldn’t need to go to a place like that and cleaning supplies were pretty much the last thing she wanted to spend the last of her money on. But Madeline peered at them as if they were odd life-forms from some alien planet. Or spies from a foreign country who’d failed the slang test at some military checkpoint.

In the driveway, Madeline pulled her car keys from the pocket of her capris. “We’ll take my car. I’ve got the most cargo space.” She clicked her remote key and the locks sprang open. “We can look up the address for the nearest Sam’s Club or Costco on my GPS.”

Nicole and Avery made no move toward the minivan. Nicole took in its shape and size, its golden beige–ness. She’d never actually been in one before and wasn’t wild about getting in one now.

“What’s wrong?” Madeline asked, reaching for the door handle. “Do you need to get something out of the house?”

“No.”

“Well, go ahead and get in then.” She motioned Nicole to the passenger seat as she climbed in behind the steering wheel. With the click of another button the rear door behind Madeline’s seat slid open for Avery.

Nicole walked slowly around to the passenger door, pulled it open, and peered in. It had leather seats and all kinds of gadgetry, but it was about as stylish as a school bus. “Maybe I should just meet you all there,” she said. “Wherever ‘there’ is.”

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