Page 54 of Ten Beach Road

“No.” Nicole took the camera out of Kyra’s hands and placed it back down in Kyra’s lap. “That’s not going to work.”

Nicole drove forward onto the bricked drive and up a treelined allée. It took several minutes before the landscaping fell away and the house appeared.

“Wow,” Kyra said as the full expanse of the stuccoed Mediterranean villa came into view. “It looks like Bella Flora on steroids.”

The girl was right. Nikki was no expert on architectural styles or periods, but Bitsy Baynard’s home had a lot of the same features: the towers jutting upward, the multi-angled red barrel-tile roof, the massive arched windows across the front, the balconies. Rounded concrete steps led up to a long columned arcade and a massive arched wooden door. The front courtyard radiated outward from a fountain that could have fronted a royal palace.

“I can see why you stopped for the manicure and pedicure,” Kyra said. “This may be the first time in my life I wouldn’t have minded owning something ‘designer.’ ”

At the front door Nicole straightened Kyra’s collar. “Stand up straight; posture’s very important in these circles. In conversation, just follow my lead.” She looked Kyra in the eye. “And try not to react if you hear me fudge a little.”

“Got it,” Kyra said, her eyes telegraphing her understanding, just before the door swung open.

And then they were standing in the magnificent foyer with its glazed marine blue tile floor and sweeping double staircase. A chandelier hung from the domed ceiling high above their heads, its dropped crystals shooting off sparks of reflected sunlight. Bitsy Baynard came toward them with a smile on her long face and both sinewy arms opened wide.

She kissed Nicole soundly on both cheeks. Bitsy Baynard was no air-or-ass kisser. Nor was she thrown by the appearance of an unexpected guest.

“Come on,” she said after the introductions and explanations had been made. “We’re out on the patio. But I have to warn you that Lisa Hanson’s already on her second martini. You either need to hurry and catch up or brace yourselves.” She led them through a central hallway twice as wide as the hallway in the house on Pass-a-Grille, with wide archways leading off to massive rooms on either side. An open-air loggia opened to a patio that overlooked a large invisible-edge pool and a beautifully manicured version of a tropical paradise that stretched on and out as far as the eye could see.

Two women sat at the wrought-iron table, a pitcher of martinis between them. One was Grace Lindell, also a former client of Nikki’s. The other had to be the already tipsy Lisa Hanson.

“So tell me how the season was,” Nicole said once she and Kyra had been seated and the introductions made. A servant appeared to take their drink orders and after a longing look at the martini pitcher, Nicole ordered a glass of white wine. Kyra asked for orange juice.

“Oh, God, it was dismal,” Lisa whined, reaching for her glass. “All anyone could talk about was that damned Malcolm Dyer and how much money he stole. We aren’t even going to summer in Tuscany this year; we’ve had to rent out the villa. Imagine!”

“Oh, how awful!” Nicole said, careful not to give vent to even the smallest drop of sarcasm. For a brief moment she imagined Lisa’s face were Nicole to describe the magnitude of her own loss. Then she could work into what it felt like to sleep on a mattress on the floor, and just how much she was looking forward to spending the entire summer performing manual labor beside two other women she would probably never have spent more than thirty seconds with in her former life.

The chilled crab and avocado salads were served, but Lisa stuck with her martinis and Grace picked at her food tentatively as if unsure why she was eating. Nicole was too busy sifting through what she could and couldn’t say to fully savor the food. Bitsy watched her guests and did her best to smooth things over. Only Kyra tucked into her food with gusto.

“Did you have money with him?” Nicole asked Bitsy, unable to even call her brother by name.

“A little.” Bitsy took a sip of her martini. “Fortunately, Bertrand pulled out early on the advice of our investment manager. But a lot of people here weren’t so lucky.”

Grace’s hand shook as she set her fork down. Very carefully, she folded them in her lap.

“How about you?” Bitsy asked Nicole.

Nicole stiffened for a brief moment. Beside her, Kyra did the same.

“I didn’t escape unscathed,” Nikki said truthfully. “But I’m still standing.” For a moment the Gloria Gaynor lyrics popped, unbidden, into her head. She shoved them out.

“And what on earth are you doing in St. Petersburg?” On Lisa’s lips the name of the city might have been “back of beyond.”

Nicole put her own napkin down and faced Lisa Hanson with a light smile. “Actually Kyra’s mother and another friend and I are getting a home ready to put up for sale there. It belonged to Dyer and was awarded to us as partial restitution after the civil suit was adjudicated.”

Kyra jumped in then, bless her. “Who designed this house, Mrs. Baynard? The house in St. Pete is smaller but very similar in style—I think my mom’s, um, other friend called it Mediterranean Revival?”

“It’s an Addison Mizner,” Bitsy said, clearly relieved by the change in topic. “It’s actually what would probably be classified as a Palladian villa, but it has a very strong Mediterranean influence. We spent close to three years restoring it.”

Nicole doubted Bitsy’s role had been quite as hands on or “monkey-like” as Chase Hardin was demanding. But she filed the information away for the future. One thing she’d learned in the matchmaking business was that you never knew when an introduction or a piece of information might prove useful.

“I’ll be glad to give you the grand tour, but Bertie’s actually the one who spearheaded the whole undertaking. I’m thrilled with how it turned out, though. It’s a wonderfully livable home. Mizner is pretty much revered here; he almost single-handedly created the whole look of Palm Beach back in the twenties.”

They talked architecture for a time, which led to the horrible real estate market, and once again the misfortune of many Palm Beach residents. When Kyra finished her second helping and excused herself to go to the ladies’ room, Nicole pushed her plate away and began to probe with more intent.

“Who else was impacted by Malcolm Dyer?” she asked. “Is anything being done about the losses?”

“Who wasn’t?” Lisa asked. “Some were awarded assets in the civil suit against him, but others haven’t gotten back a dime.” Her eyes glittered. “A number of investment firms went under in the process. One or two are facing charges.”

---