Page 89 of Ten Beach Road

Twenty-nine

The month of July brought longer days and ever-increasing heat and humidity. The first of the no-name storms formed and dissipated in the Caribbean and walking barefoot on sand, brick, or asphalt became close to impossible. Whenever possible middays were spent working inside the thick walls of Bella Flora or the soon-to-be pool house, from which they’d emerge following the daily late afternoon rain shower.

Madeline watched Kyra’s pregnancy develop in tandem with Bella Flora’s renovation, her stomach and breasts growing larger as each room of the house was considered and addressed. Rotted baseboards were replaced, missing plaster cornices re-created, and the salon’s coffered cypress ceiling was painstakingly cleaned and retouched so that the original coats of arms of the original workmen could once again be seen.

Enrico’s younger brother Reggio came to lay the new kitchen floor, re-grout all of the bathrooms’ original tile and re-point the brick drive. Deirdre had the leather banquettes in the Casbah Lounge replaced, and Avery and Nicole spent almost a week cleaning and resealing the grout in the elaborately tiled room where they moved their sunset toasts when the weather turned bad or the heat and mosquitoes became unbearable.

The bathroom mirrors were re-silvered and re-hung and King Alfred promised the last of the bathroom fixtures no later than August 1, an announcement that had been toasted unanimously as a “good thing.”

In addition to the photos they took, the paparazzi generated some nasty headlines and more than one article questioning what this particular group of women were really doing camped out at Ten Beach Road. Without a quote from Daniel Deranian’s wronged wife or an appearance from the actor himself, there was little monetary value in continued stalking of a woman who might or might not be carrying his child. One day late in July, Madeline walked out back and noticed that the paparazzi had vanished.

For Maddie, there was little time to contemplate the joy of becoming a grandmother when each person and element of her life seemed determined to compete for the title of “most stressful.” Despite countless attempts, she still hadn’t spoken directly to Steve since she’d issued her ultimatum, but Andrew claimed his father was doing “better.” She felt her first stirring of real hope when Edna sniffed that Steve was “out” rather than sleeping, but she kept herself busy to the point of exhaustion because she was too afraid to bank on it.

Now she and Kyra sat in the dining room with the crystals from the master bathroom chandelier spread across the worktable before them. This was their third chandelier, and although it was significantly smaller than the dining room fixture that sparkled above them in the late afternoon sun, the process remained painstakingly tedious. Maddie had learned the hard way to take photos before disassembling and knew just how hard it could be to tell one drop crystal from another. “I can’t clean another piece.” Madeline sat back in her chair and stretched, her hands stiff and cracked from the harsh ammonia, wanting to be done with this job. Just like she’d probably want to be done with whatever came next. She turned to Kyra. “Do you want to go for a walk? Now that the photographers are gone, getting to the beach isn’t such a hassle.”

“It’s still too hot,” Kyra said. “I’m going to go upstairs and take a nice long nap.” She yawned and stood. As she reached for her cell phone it rang, startling them both. She picked it up to look at the caller ID on the screen and gasped.

Madeline looked up. “What is it?”

“The caller ID says Deranian! Oh, my God, it’s him. It’s Daniel!” Kyra shot Madeline an “I told you so!” look and brought the phone to her ear with an eagerness Madeline hadn’t seen since she’d arrived.

“Daniel? Daniel, oh, thank God. I told my mother you’d call.” Kyra began to leave the room, undoubtedly for someplace more private, but practically skidded to a stop before she reached the archway. “Who is this?” Kyra asked. “What do you mean by that?” And then simply, “Oh.”

Maddie didn’t know what was being said, but she could tell it wasn’t good. Kyra’s body remained tightly clenched, her shoulders hunched inward. She didn’t speak, or even nod, but just stared out into the hallway as if there might be some answer there.

Maddie could hardly stand it; she wanted to go to Kyra and take the phone away and demand to know what was going on. In the end she didn’t have to. Kyra turned on trembling legs and brought the phone to Maddie. “It’s Tonja Kay,” she said quietly, the tears already pooling in her eyes. “She says she wants to talk to you.”

Slowly, not understanding, Madeline took the phone and raised the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”

“Are you the fucking bitch of a whore’s mother?”

Madeline blinked, certain she’d misheard. “I’m sorry?” she said tentatively.

“You should be fucking sorry!” The movie star’s voice carried none of the seductive quality it did in a movie theater. It was vile and nasty and out of control. “And so should your fucking bitch of a daughter!”

“Now you just hold on a minute,” Madeline said. Maddie did not approve of Kyra sleeping with a married man, nor did she feel good about the current situation, but that didn’t mean she was going to stand by and let someone attack her so viciously.

“Fuck, no, I won’t hold on!” Tonja Kay shouted in Madeline’s ear. “You should have taught that cunt to keep her fucking hands to her fucking self! He’s my husband and she has no right to him. Not any part of him! You tell her to fucking . . .”

Madeline’s face was burning, but it was nothing compared to what she felt inside. One hand went to her throat as she struggled for control. “If you’re as foul in person as you are on the phone, it’s no wonder he’s looking elsewhere!”

Kyra’s eyes got big. Surprise lit her face.

“Don’t you tell me how to talk, you bitch!” Tonja Kay shouted back. “If your daughter thinks she’s going to get a penny out of me or Daniel, she’s fucking crazy. I’m gonna make sure everybody fucking knows just how skanky that slut is!”

Madeline had been about to hang up. She’d taught her children that discretion was the better part of valor. That it was always better to take the high road. That bad language was the hallmark of a poor vocabulary. But then she’d never been spoken to this way or felt the need to defend one of her children from this kind of onslaught. Tonja Kay was vulgar, crazy, and way too full of herself for Maddie to do nothing more than hang up.

Madeline signaled for Kyra to cover her ears. In the prim tones she’d learned in Mrs. Merriweather’s charm class all those years ago, she said, “I think I know a skanky slut when I hear one. And if you ever call my daughter or me names like that again, I’ll be releasing the recording I just made of this conversation to the media worldwide.”

There was a shocked silence on the other end. And from Kyra as well.

“Good.” Madeline smiled, her tone saccharine sweet. “It sounds like we understand each other. Have a nice day.”

“Wow,” Kyra said as Maddie hung up and handed her the phone. “Thank you.” Her face and tone reflected both shock and admiration, an interesting combination. “I don’t know where that came from or who you are, but that was truly . . . impressive.”

Maddie was more than a little surprised herself. But she’d never been one to miss out on a teaching moment. “There isn’t a lot a mother won’t do for her child, Kyra. It’s sort of hardwired into our DNA.” She smiled and reached out a hand to stroke Kyra’s cheek. “You’ll see what I mean soon enough.”

Giraldi caught up with Nicole near the Don CeSar, the midpoint in her morning run, and fit his pace to hers. They ran in silence for about a half a mile while the beach woke up around them, then turned to head back toward Bella Flora. It was the prettiest time of day and the only one in which Nikki could even imagine running now that the days were hot enough to melt the skin off your bones and even the evening breezes off the Gulf felt like blasts from a furnace.

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