Page 71 of Ten Beach Road

Twenty-three

It was the middle of June and the days had grown longer and steadily hotter, the moderate temperatures of May already fading into distant memory. This made their lack of air-conditioning even harder to take. The duct cleaning and rerouting that Chase had scheduled while they waited for new units contributed to the chaos. The only relief from the increasingly oppressive heat was the afternoon rain showers—some of which could be seen moving in off the Gulf and others of which simply sprinkled down without much ado, lasting for ten or fifteen minutes before stopping, like a faucet that had been turned on and then off.

They woke early both by choice and because there were no window coverings to speak of—or doors for that matter. And because there was nothing that even resembled privacy once Chase arrived at seven thirty A.M. and the daily ebb and flow of workmen began.

Maddie would spend today just as she had spent yesterday, bathed in sweat as she sat hunched over a worktable Chase had set up in the empty dining room, polishing the door knobs and hinges that she and Avery had painstakingly removed from each door. The polishing was tedious and never ending, like pretty much every other task she’d tackled so far; but unlike the re-glazing, it required little concentration. Polishing was far too mindless for someone with so many problems on her mind.

It was seven A.M., the air already hot and heavy. Nicole had left for her morning run. Someone was showering in the bathroom—Maddie assumed it was Deirdre, the only one of them who spent any real time on her appearance. There’d been a few bumps and thumps from Avery’s bedroom directly overhead, but nothing that signaled a full awakening.

Maddie set down her scissors and sorted the grocery coupons, slipping them into the alphabetized holder she kept in the minivan. She spread the articles she’d clipped from the paper in front of her: “How to Find Yourself After You’ve Lost Your Job,” “Mind Over It Doesn’t Matter,” “Male Depression and Its Toll on the Family,” “Winning Outcomes and Positive Visualization.” She slipped several in the envelope she’d already addressed to Steve but wasn’t sure why she persisted in these long-distance motivational attempts.

Every day Madeline debated whether she needed to go back to Atlanta and try to light a fire under Steve personally, but it took everything she had to do what needed to be done here. She couldn’t even imagine taking on Steve and Edna, who protected her son’s right to wallow with the same zeal the U.S. military guarded the gold at Fort Knox.

Thinking she might slip by the gatekeeper with an early call, Madeline dialed the house phone. While it rang, she braced herself for whoever might pick up. As luck, or the lack of it, would have it, her mother-in-law answered.

“Hi, Edna,” Maddie said brightly, channeling the article on favorable outcomes. “It’s great to hear your voice.” She tried to project the positive, but suspected she just sounded loud.

Edna’s hello was very small.

“I’d like to talk to Steve,” Maddie said. “Please put him on.”

“He’s still sleeping,” Edna said. “I’ll tell him you called when he gets up.”

Edna’s voice was low. Maddie pictured her standing guard in front of the master bedroom door or, possibly, the family room couch. “Or maybe you should try again later.”

The articles on the table stared up at her accusingly. “No!” Maddie replied quickly before Edna could hang up. “Maybe you should shake his shoulder until he wakes up.”

Edna gasped with indignation. “Well, I never!”

“But you should,” Maddie said, tired to death of the pretense that Steve was just resting, when in fact he was hiding. “You’re his mother and you need to tell him it’s time to get up and start getting it back together.”

“Hmmmph!” Edna said. “Why don’t you come back here and tell him that yourself? Unless you’re too busy vacationing at that beach house.”

The injustice of it made Maddie’s eyes sting. Her heart felt too large for her chest. She reached for one of the articles she’d clipped with itsEvery important journey begins with that first stepintro and crumpled it into a ball.

“Edna?” Maddie said. “Put him on. Now.”

“I told you, he’s asleep, Melinda!” her mother-in-law replied then thumped down the phone.

Maddie’s tears dried in mid-blink. The hurt, which had lain so heavy, went hot and liquid. She barely recognized the anger coursing through her; it was an emotion she rarely allowed herself. Quickly she hit the speed dial for Andrew’s cell phone. “Hmmm?” Her son’s voice, that misleadingly adult baritone, sounded thick with sleep.

“Andrew, it’s me. Mom.”

There was a long yawn and the rustle of sheets. “Um-hmmm?”

“I need to know what’s going on there. Are you making progress on Grandma’s house?”

Another yawn. The creak of the bed. “I’m sleeping.” He yawned again. “Can you call back later?”

His words grew softer and the phone farther from his mouth.

“Andrew!” she shouted. “Don’t you dare hang up!”

Unlike his grandmother, he listened. “Why can’t we talk later? I . . .”

“Because I need to talk now. And you need to hear me,” Maddie said, her anger building. She was down here fighting to save their lone asset, the one thing that might keep their collective heads above water, and none of them could be bothered to support her, let alone help.

“You call Mrs. Richmond and get the referrals for subcontractors and ask her to pull those comparables on Grandma’s house. And you do it today.” She drew a deep breath, trying to calm down, but her whole body quivered with hurt and anger.

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