Sunshine Beach (15 page)

She turned away from the merriment. She hadn't had so much as a text from Joe since his presentation to Annelise. She'd agonized over whether to call and apologize. Whether to tell him how much she loved him. Whether to beg for another chance. Only nothing had changed. Including her inability to marry him and saddle him with a wife who did not have the courage to do whatever it took to start a family at this late date.

She moved slowly, her limbs heavy as if wrapped in a wool blanket she couldn't shrug off. It took eons to reach the back stairs, another millennia to drag herself up them. At the bathroom sink she splashed cold water on her face, then stared into the mirror at her ashen skin, the dull mossiness of her eyes. As if all the color had been leached from her. And not just on the outside.

Get a grip
. She hated people who got all melodramatic and needy when things went wrong. She loved Joe and she loved being with him. But she didn't
need
him. And she sure as hell wasn't going to get all weak and weepy because he'd finally taken her at her word and moved on.

Bereft and alone, she walked slowly to her bedroom, where she closed the blinds to blot out the bright yellow sunshine
and the soft blue sky. Then she pulled back the bedcovers and slid between the sheets, closing her eyes against the insistent prick of tears.
Could I be any more pathetic?
Her answer came as the first tears escaped and began to fall, dampening her cheeks, then building to an uncontrollable deluge. That answer was a resounding, soul-shattering,
Yes!

Like the rest of her, Bella Flora's doorbell was not easily ignored. It chimed loudly, echoing through the foyer, up the front stairs, and down the central hallway. You might choose not to answer, but it was virtually impossible to pretend you hadn't heard it.

Maddie stood at the sink, her hands in soapy dishwater. Swiping at a stray hair with her shoulder, she waited for Nikki to get it.

The doorbell rang again. Which meant Nikki was probably once again doing her imitation of Sleeping Beauty. Something she'd been doing daily since they'd started the cleanup of the Sunshine Hotel, though Maddie was pretty sure her exhaustion, and accompanying sleep-a-thon, had more to do with Joe Giraldi's absence than the heavy lifting and cleaning they'd been doing.

Grabbing a dishtowel, she headed to the foyer, where she used a still-soapy hand to pull open the door. At the sight of her ex-husband she froze, her hands clutching the damp towel, a soap bubble on her right cheek. However disheveled she might be, Steve looked worse.

Steve Singer was still tall and thin but his shoulders were more stooped than she remembered. The face she'd once found so handsome had turned pasty. His hair was more salt than pepper and was in dire need of cutting. The gray eyes that stared back were wary and underlined by dark circles.

“Hi, Maddie.”

“What are you doing here?” She leaned to the side in an attempt to see around him. “Is Andrew with you?” Their son was a student at Georgia State, where he'd been forced to transfer from Vanderbilt after their savings and pretty much everything else had been lost to Malcolm Dyer's Ponzi scheme.

“Nope. It's just me.” He looked at her expectantly. “Is Kyra here?”

She looked back. “Is she expecting you?”

“Not exactly.” He shifted uneasily from one foot to another. “But as I understand it the house does belong to her and my grandson. And I do have an open invitation.”

Maddie may have made a face. Or it could have just been an attempt to keep the soap bubble from slipping toward her mouth. She hadn't seen him since Christmas when they'd spent an excruciatingly long three days being polite to each other, an ordeal she'd assumed she wouldn't have to repeat until the following Thanksgiving, which also happened to be Dustin's birthday.

“Are you planning to let me in?”

She wished she could say “no” and simply close the door in his face. Reluctantly, she took a step back to allow him to enter. With the dishtowel wadded in her hands she turned toward the stairs. “Kyra! You have—”

“Shhhh!” Kyra appeared at the top of the stairs. “I just got Dustin into bed and . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Dad! What are you doing here?” She came down quickly. Unlike Maddie, she hugged her father and accepted his kiss on the cheek.

“Do I need a reason to visit?” he asked, smiling too brightly.

“No, of course not,” Kyra said. “I just didn't realize you had vacation time. I thought you'd be at work.”

“I've taken a little time off,” he said, his smile slipping a notch. “To regroup.”

Steve had been either lying on a couch unable to get up or “regrouping” since their life had fallen apart and Maddie had been forced to step up and take over. It was not the loss of their things that had ended their quarter-of-a-century marriage, but Steve's loss of himself and his inability to forgive her for finding the strength to do what he could not.

“How long are you planning to stay?” Maddie asked.

“I don't really know,” he said, attempting a casual shrug. Turning to Kyra, he asked, “Is there a bed available?”

“Yes, of course,” Kyra replied quickly. “The pool house is empty.”

They stood looking awkwardly at each other.

“Do you need help with your suitcase?” Kyra asked. “I was planning to edit a little video and have an early night, but I can . . .”

“No, I'm fine. I'll get my things out of the car and take them around back.”

Since Steve had reminded her that she was not the hostess and her divorce papers confirmed that she was not responsible for feeding or caring for him, Maddie turned and walked back toward the kitchen.

“There's probably some snacks and cold drinks in the pool house, Dad,” Kyra said. “Dustin will be so excited to see you. Are you sure you don't mind if we catch up in the morning?”

“No problem,” he replied in a tone that had always indicated there was, in fact, a problem. “Just tell me what time breakfast is served and I'll be there all bright-eyed and bushy tailed.”

It took every ounce of willpower Maddie possessed not to turn and tell Steve exactly when he might find breakfast and where he could then shove it. She smiled tightly to herself when
Kyra stopped climbing the stairs to say, “Oh, we don't have a formal breakfast, Dad. Everyone just kind of helps themselves. We're going to head over to the job site around nine tomorrow morning. Dustin and I will come wake you at eight.”

“I think it's safe to unclench now,” Nikki said the next morning when she and Maddie climbed into the Jag for the short drive to the hotel.

“Said the woman who's quite tightly clenched herself and has been giving Sleeping Beauty a run for her money.” She eyed Nikki as she dropped the convertible top and then backed out of the driveway. “I've been thinking about looking for a poison apple. Or maybe calling the prince to tell him he needs to come kiss his girlfriend awake.”

“Don't even think about it,” Nikki said, turning north onto Pass-a-Grille Way. “I don't need a prince. I just need a little less manual labor and a lot more sleep.”

“Right.” Maddie turned her gaze out the window, where slices of blue water shimmered through the keyholes in the concrete balustrade that edged the bay as they passed. The breeze was warm and more than slightly humid. By afternoon the temperature would be close to ninety.

“Hey, at least I don't have an ex-husband moving in,” Nikki said, deflecting as always. In Maddie's experience, getting the woman to talk about herself, let alone her actual feelings, could require the wile of Machiavelli and the brute strength of Hercules.

“I can handle Steve's presence for Dustin's and Kyra's sakes. I mean it's not like he's going to be here long.”

“I don't know,” Nikki said, her tone dubious. “I'm not sure Steve's planning to leave anytime soon.”

“Why do you say that?” Maddie turned to watch the play of sunlight on Nikki's auburn hair. She could see her own reflection in the oversized sunglasses.

“I guess you didn't see the pile of luggage that came out of the trunk of his car this morning.”

“No.” Maddie had actually gone to ridiculous lengths not to pay attention to Steve's movements. Though she had noticed that the car he'd arrived in had rust spots and a dented rear door. “I don't think he believed Kyra last night when she told him that we all help ourselves to breakfast.”

“I was glad you didn't cave when he started hinting about how much he loves your egg soufflé,” Nikki said. “But I was a little worried about the way he was eyeing Dustin's Eggo waffles.”

Maddie smiled grimly. “Kyra handled him pretty well. Especially when she took him up on his offer of help.”

Nikki snorted. “Yeah, I don't think he was expecting to be put in charge of Dustin.”

“Well, he could hardly say no when Dustin was so excited to be spending the day with his Geedad.” Maddie's eyes clouded briefly when she thought of how different things might have been if only Steve had not been so quick to give up when things got tough. “The time together should be good for both of them. And it'll give Kyra time to edit that footage.” She fell silent, her thoughts turning to William, who had bottomed out on a large scale and in the public eye. But where Steve had surrendered, William had conquered the daily struggle to keep himself clean and beat his dependency on drugs and alcohol. William had worked on his sobriety every day. He'd managed to rebuild his life even before he'd met Maddie. Now, it seemed, he was rebuilding his career.

“It looks like we're the last ones here,” Nikki said as she turned onto Thirty-first and pulled the Jag in behind Avery's Mini Cooper, which was parked behind John Franklin's Cadillac.

They got out of the car, slathered on sunscreen, and pulled a small cooler out of the trunk. “Ready?” Maddie asked.

“As I'll ever be,” Nikki replied, settling a baseball cap on her head and pulling her ponytail out through the back. “But I'm going to suggest we string up some hammocks out on the beach. You know, for the guests.”

“Right,” Maddie said drily. With the ponytail, the big sunglasses, and the bright halter top and shorts, Nikki might have been a mature Malibu Barbie. “Don't let Avery catch you snoozing on the job.”

“God forbid,” Nikki agreed. “That woman is a force of nature. Kind of like a miniature hurricane. She's half my size but I suspect she could blow me right over.”

“Well, she is under a lot of pressure to produce.”

“I know,” Nikki said. “We all are.”

Maddie pulled a straw hat down on her head, adjusted the brim. “Are you at all worried that we won't be able to pull it off on our own?”

“Hell, yeah,” Nikki said. “But I don't see any way around it. Last time I checked, none of us had a whole lot of other viable options.”

“Avery can make a living as an architect or building with Chase. I think Kyra could make it in film with enough help with Dustin. And Joe has asked you to marry him. Repeatedly.” Maddie looked pointedly at Nikki. “Some people have options they're afraid to pursue.”

“Not all of us are as fearless as you've turned out to be, Madeline Singer,” Nikki said. “I just couldn't say yes to him, Maddie. I wanted to. Really I did.” Her voice was practically a whisper. “So the ‘Joe option' is no longer on the table.” She sniffed suspiciously but she ended on a shrug. “Come on. Let's get to work before . . .”

There was a rattle and rev of a motor. A large panel truck turned onto the road and edged into a space around the corner.
A-1 Locksmith
was written across both sides.

Maddie and Nikki looked at each other, then hurried onto the path that led through the overgrowth and onto the
concrete walkway that connected the cottages to the main building and pool. “I know it's crazy, but I've been trying not to think about that safe all week,” Maddie said. “I mean it's such an odd place for it. It wasn't put there for the guests. And Renée had no idea it even existed.” Maddie felt a stirring of excitement. “Do you think it's full of jewelry? Or something really exotic?”

“Personally, I'm hoping it's money. Right around two-point-five-million dollars would be good. That way we could stop worrying about the reno budget and just get on with it already.” She smiled. “But I wouldn't mind if there was exotic jewelry in there, too.”

Avery was standing in the women's locker room with John and Renée Franklin when Nikki and Maddie arrived with the locksmith in tow.

“Is Annelise coming?” Maddie asked.

“No.” Renée's tone was almost apologetic. “I haven't told her yet. I thought it would be best to simply share what we find after we know what it is. Just in case it's something upsetting.” John placed a bracing arm around his wife's shoulders. “I can't believe this safe was here all the time and I didn't know it,” Renée continued. “My grandparents never mentioned it and there was nothing about it in their will.”

They stood aside while John conferred with the locksmith, then watched eagerly as cutting tools were prepared.

“We're trying to preserve the lockers,” Avery said. “Can you work inside that locker or should we remove them?”

“I think we're good,” the locksmith replied. “Do you want the whole box to come out or do you just want to be able to access what's inside?”

“Renée?” John asked.

“I'm not sure.” Renée's eyes were alight with nervous excitement. “Why don't we just open it and see if there's anything inside first?”

They stood in a small semicircle watching intently, their excitement palpable. The whir of a power tool meeting metal made conversation impossible. Even though Avery knew better, it was almost impossible not to fantasize about the contents. The safe could be completely empty or hold nothing more exotic than a child's baby teeth or some other sentimental object. But until proved otherwise, it could contain a fortune in jewels. “Am I the only one visualizing a treasure map?” she asked when the cutting stopped.

“I wish you were,” Renée said. “But knowing my grandparents it's more likely to be a copy of Nana's matzo ball soup recipe. Or a lifetime collection of Sunshine Hotel and Beach Club postcards.”

It wasn't long before the safe was open and an iron box pulled from inside it. The locksmith set it on the counter as directed and then departed, clearly not suffering from the curiosity the rest of them were experiencing. Stepping away so as not to crowd Renée and John, Avery, Maddie, and Nikki formed their own little expectant huddle.

“Well, here goes.” Renée reached for the box's lid. “I hope we're not about to discover that those matzo balls were made from a mix.” Her hands shook slightly as she raised the hinged lid.

The rest of them held their collective breath as Renée peered inside. Gingerly she withdrew a battered manila envelope, then shook it tentatively. The only sound was the rustle of paper. “Okay, jewels and gold are out. But a treasure map or a matzo ball recipe are still possible.” Renée's voice and smile wavered. John stepped closer in an unmistakable show of support as Renée reached back into the safe, felt around, and pulled out a small cracked leather photo album. Lowering
herself onto a wooden bench, Renée first opened the envelope and removed its contents. She began to leaf through a sheaf of yellowed documents.

“It's . . .” Renée looked down again. “My father's discharge papers are here. And this must be his and Ilse's marriage license.” She held up two dog-eared black-and-white photos. “And this is Ilse and her mother.” She held up a photo of two women of the same height and size with soft blond hair and identical smiles. “And this is Ilse in her wedding dress.” Renée's smile was nostalgic. “It was made from a parachute that my father got hold of. Annelise used to love to hear the story. She has the framed picture of Ilse and my father the day they got married.” She opened the photo album next and began to leaf through it. This time when she looked up, shock etched her face.

“What is it?” John asked.

“These photos are . . . They must be the rest of Ilse's family.” Renée swallowed and flipped through another few pages. She looked up again, clearly stricken. “But these . . .” Her voice trailed off and the smile turned to a grimace. “I've never seen these before. I . . . I just never really thought . . . I mean I knew my stepmother wasn't Jewish. But my father used to tell us the story about how they met when he was working at American headquarters in Frankfurt after the war. How shy she was. How she never even looked at the soldiers like a lot of the other German girls did. And how she only ever spoke to him because she fell and hurt her knee and he insisted on taking her to the Red Cross hospital to get stitched up.” She hesitated and something flickered in the back of her eyes. “I never expected . . . I didn't think . . .” Renée looked up again, her face white. “All of the men are wearing Nazi uniforms. And they have lots of decorations on them. As if they might be high-ranking officers.” She set the photos on the counter and pushed them away. “I don't think they were
just . . . you know . . . privates who were only following orders. This man's wearing an SS uniform. They all look so completely Aryan.”

Kyra arrived not long after Renée and John Franklin left. Her video camera hung on a strap over one shoulder; her long dark hair had been pulled up into a high ponytail. “Sorry I'm late,” she said to Maddie. “But has Dad always been this helpless?”

“Well,” Maddie replied, trying to assess how much truth Kyra was looking for. “He can take direction if it's offered properly, but he's not big on self-starting or completing tasks that don't appeal to him.”

“No kidding,” Kyra said. “He asked me to show him how the washing machine worked, and I ended up doing an entire load and starting the second for him. Then I packed them PB and Js and juice boxes to take on their beach picnic for which I got Dustin completely ready.”

“It's easy to get sucked in,” Maddie said, thinking how often it had been easier to do the work herself than beg and cajole.

“I was almost here when he called to tell me he couldn't find the sunscreen. So I turned around and went back and found it right on the kitchen counter about two feet away from where he was sitting.”

Maddie just smiled. She had learned during the death spiral of her marriage and the resulting divorce that no matter how much the children might complain about Steve's actions, they did not want her to chime in.

“He couldn't even figure out how to open the childproof cap on the amoxicillin he was supposed to give Dustin. Why . . .” She stopped, seemingly noticing their lack of action for the first time. “Why are you guys just sitting around with those weird looks on your faces?” she asked. “What's going on?”

Avery filled her in.

“Wow,” Kyra said. “So Renée didn't know anything about her stepmother's family?”

“No,” Nikki said. “Though I guess it shouldn't be surprising. They were German and they were at war. I don't think membership in the Nazi party was optional.”

“Do you think Annelise knew?” Kyra asked.

Maddie had been wondering that very thing. “I'd guess yes except she was only five when her father died and her mother disappeared. So it seems highly unlikely.”

“Do you think Renée's going to show everything to her?” Kyra asked.

“I don't see how she couldn't,” Avery said. “But I'm glad we won't be there when it happens. And it definitely isn't our business.”

“Do you think Joe might want to see the papers and photos?” Kyra asked Nikki.

Nikki went very still at the mention of Joe's name. “W-W-Why?”

Maddie had never before heard Nicole Grant come anywhere near a stutter.

“I don't know.” Kyra shrugged. “I mean, Annelise said she saw a man in their cottage that night. Joe seemed to think she might have. Maybe there was someone else there—and maybe it wasn't random. Maybe it had something to do with someone in her family.”

“You're making it sound like some Baldacci thriller or something,” Avery said. “This is—and was—a very small hotel on Pass-a-Grille.”

“With at least one mysterious death. We don't really know what might have happened here,” Kyra said reasonably. “But Ilse disappeared. Maybe she went back to Germany for some reason.”

Their eyes turned to Nikki.

“What?” she asked warily.

“Can you call Joe and fill him in and see what he thinks?” Avery asked.

“I'm not sure. I know he's out of town. Um, somewhere.” Nikki gestured vaguely. “He may not be reachable.”

Avery fixed Nikki with a look. “Then maybe you could text him,” she said slowly as if explaining something to a child. “So that he can call you back when he's able to.”

Maddie gave Avery a look of her own. The cease-and-desist look that every mother learned and used to varying effect. A look, Maddie realized, Avery had rarely experienced.

“If Nikki's not comfortable with it, I can call Joe and ask if he thinks trying to trace Ilse to Germany might be worthwhile.” Maddie raised an eyebrow at Avery for emphasis. “And it might help to have someone who knows German read whatever was written on the backs of some of those photos.”

“I'll do it,” Nikki said. But she said it with all the enthusiasm of someone who had agreed to a double root canal. “I'll do it tonight.”

“Okay,” Avery said. “Then I think it's time we all stop speculating and get to work.”

As if on cue Ray Flamingo made his entrance, moving toward them with an elegance that bordered on regal. He wore a perfectly coordinated ensemble of pale blue polo, creased cream trousers, and calfskin loafers.

“Darlings,” he said, hugging them each in turn before removing his sunglasses. “I'm so glad you all are here.” The smile he flashed was blinding. “I have had a scathingly brilliant idea that I am dying to share with you.”

Kyra's video camera rested on her shoulder. Behind it only her lower face was visible. Her lips were twisted into a smile.

“Ideas are good,” Avery said. “Especially scathingly brilliant ones.” None of them were immune to Ray's enthusiasm or his dramatic flair. “Lead the way.”

“Yes. Come with me.” He turned, not checking to see whether they followed.

Maddie was glad he hadn't said, “Walk this way,” for Ray was far more graceful than any of them except possibly Nikki, and she wasn't sure she could even come close to duplicating his catwalk strut.

He stopped in front of the closest cottage. “I've been thinking. Adding the new roof decks will require repouring the patios so that support posts can be added. So, why don't we go ahead and extend the patios around the side of each unit? We could wall the area, add lots of foliage, and maybe an outdoor shower so that each courtyard garden would be completely private.” He raised an eyebrow mysteriously. “Then we could turn the bathroom window into a glass door.” He smiled. “Voila. Many difficult birds done in with one stone.”

“I like it,” Avery said. “It opens up the bathroom, gives us added visual and usable space. And even if we weren't doing the decks, we'd be replacing the old patios anyway.”

“Absolutely.” Ray waved a hand airily. “John told me the last time they were touched was back in the early fifties due to some sort of plumbing issue.” He shrugged. “This way we end up with something chic and functional.”

“The man's good,” Nikki said.

“Gifted,” Maddie agreed.

“It could work,” Avery said. “But like everything else it's going to depend on cost and how much we raise.” She smiled. “Still, I think I'm going to have to upgrade from ‘like' to ‘love' on this.”

“But of course you will,” Ray said happily. “I told you it would be scathingly brilliant. I don't join those words together lightly.”

Nikki's heart actually skittered at the sight of Joe's name on her caller ID that evening as she walked alone on the beach. “Hello? Joe?”

“Yes.” His voice was stripped of all warmth and concern; it gave no hint that the person he was talking to meant anything at all. “You asked me to call.”

“Yes. Um, hi.” She closed her eyes in humiliation and stumbled over a shell. After spending the day alternately dreading and anticipating his return call, was that the best she could do?
Good God, don't let me stutter again. Just let me get through this call with my pride still intact.
“Thanks for calling.”

“No problem. Did you need something?” he asked politely.

Her heart skittered faster. She felt slightly light-headed.

“It's not for me,” she hastened to explain. “I . . . didn't want to bother you.” She winced remembering when she'd asked him to submit to Annelise's interview.

He made no comment. The silence stretched uncomfortably as she walked. Despite her best intentions, and her very real fear of stuttering, she started to babble in an attempt to fill it. “The safe in the women's locker room was opened today.”

Nothing.

“And there were documents and especially photos that the others thought you might want to look at.”