Page 51 of Ten Beach Road

Eighteen

The days began to lengthen, keeping pace with the rising temperatures and thickening humidity that acknowledged the approach of summer. The dismantling of Bella Flora was complete; almost everything removable had been detached from its mooring for cleaning and/or refinishing. The house was now stripped down to its barest and, Avery thought, most beautiful bones.

The thick stucco walls and hollow tile construction kept the house a good seven or eight degrees cooler inside than it was outside—something they were all thankful for now that the central air-conditioning had been pronounced dead and had not yet been replaced. Most days lunch was a quick pick-up affair from whatever Maddie, who was their most frequent and inventive grocery shopper and coupon clipper, had stocked in the refrigerator. They quit the harder manual labor by five thirty or so and took an hour to themselves to regroup before sunset.

As often as possible, they gathered to toast and watch the sunset—a show that changed nightly and never disappointed. Sometimes they lingered outside eating dinner at the concrete picnic table near the gaping wound of the pool, mosquito repellant perched nearby.

At the moment, although it was barely four P.M., Avery was more than ready to call it a day and more than relieved that Chase had decided to take the weekend off. She’d spent the day helping sandblast the wrought iron and her clothes and hair were filled with grit. The only part of her that may have benefited was her face, which had been sorely in need of a facial before she’d started and now stung from the crude, if powerful, dermabrasion.

She’d like to say she wasn’t sure what had driven her to participate, but the truth was it was only Chase’s automatic “no” to her offer of help that had compelled her to insist on being included. All she wanted now was a shower that would remove the grit that had found its way inside her clothes and under her skin. But first she had a task to complete.

She waited until both Chase and the rest of the workmen had left for the weekend before she went into the empty garage where Chase’s circular saw was set up. Carefully, she pulled several two-by-fours from a pile and cut the blocks of wood she needed then gathered the other women to help her carry them up to the master bathroom.

They stood now in front of the sink and its old etched mirror. “I want to take the legs and fixtures to be refinished, but the sink’s attached to the tile wall. I need you to help slide the piles of wood into place to support the front of the sink.”

“You’re going to remove the legs?” Nicole asked.

“Yep.”

“Can’t we just polish them and leave them alone?” Maddie looked dubious.

“They’re too far gone for that,” Avery said. “But they’re original and they’re really fabulous. I have an idea about where we might get them re-chromed, but I want to take a sample and be sure before we dismantle all the bathrooms.”

“It’s not like the bathrooms are usable anyway,” Nikki said.

“True. But I want to make sure my idea works first.” She shoved the blocks of wood, which she’d arranged in two piles, closer to the sink. “When I remove the first leg, Maddie, I need you to shove the pile of wood into position.”

“Okay.” Maddie slid the stack closer as Avery pulled out her screwdriver and dropped down under the wide rectangle of porcelain. The tile floor turned gritty as the sand poured out of her clothes like some portable beach that crunched beneath her body. It took some muscle power, but she managed to unscrew the bolts on the first leg. Kyra’s feet moved in an arc around the sink, probably filming the operation. Avery tried not to think about which parts of her were visible to the camera.

“Here.” With the bolt loosened, Avery removed the curved chrome leg and handed it to Nicole while supporting the sink with her other hand. “Can you slide that first pile in here, Maddie?”

“I feel like I should be wearing a trench coat,” Nicole said after she’d set the leg down. “Does Chase know you’re doing this?”

“No.” Avery scrunched over to start on the other leg. “And contrary to his opinion, I don’t actually need his permission to take care of things.”

Kyra crouched close to the tile wall and aimed her lens under the sink.

“Do you really need to do that?” Avery asked, reaching out with her free hand and gently pushing the camera lens out of her face. “I’m not exactly made-up and ready for my close-up.”

“Just documenting,” Kyra said as she panned the camera across Avery and presumably out to Maddie and Nicole’s feet.

“You know, I think you might want to reexamine your relationship with Chase,” Nikki said, reaching a hand down to help Avery up. “It’s pretty volatile.”

“I don’t have a relationship with Chase,” Avery said, brushing off her bottom as best she could. Sand littered the tile floor and she knew there was a mop in her immediate future.

“We all have a relationship with Chase,” Nicole said. “And it’s in our best interests for it to be a smooth one.”

Avery removed the handles and faucet and pulled out the drain. She was way too tired to analyze herself or Chase Hardin. “Well, you’ll have to talk to him about that. The way I see it, he’s too busy treating me like an imbecile to actually consider that I might have something worthwhile to contribute.” She stared at Nicole for a long moment and then down at the sand-strewn floor.

Maddie slipped an arm around her shoulders. “You know, I just don’t get why they never show you doing anything real on your show. It’s like some kind of fifties time warp. Or something designed for the Playboy Channel.”

Kyra stepped back and shot video of Avery unbuckling her tool belt. “Don’t worry about the floor, Avery. You go ahead and take a shower. I’ll take care of the mop up,” Madeline said.

“Thanks, Maddie, I appreciate it,” Avery said. “Almost as much as I’m going to appreciate having three whole days without the Big Cheese around.”

Nicole stole a look at her passenger seat, still trying to figure out how Kyra Singer had ended up in it. As soon as she’d heard that Chase was taking the weekend off, she’d accepted an invitation to a former client’s home in Palm Beach. She’d no more mentioned her plans than Kyra had asked for a ride.

“I have a friend who lives in West Palm. She’ll pick me up anywhere you say and will drop me off wherever you are whenever you want to head back.”

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