The House on Mermaid Point by Wendy Wax Read Free Book Online Page B

already at . . . Hang on!” She turned the wheel sharply. “There’s Bud N’ Mary’s on the left!”

Chapter Four

    Avery pocketed her cell phone, climbed out of the Mini Cooper, and stood beside Deirdre in the parking lot of Bud N’ Mary’s Marina. The paved lot was dusty with a mixture of rock, shell, and sand. The breeze off the water was hot and heavy; the smell of fish mixed with salt air strong. The structures fronting and framing the docks were of various sizes, all of them utilitarian. There was high-and-dry boat storage on one end, open and covered boat slips, a store and a restaurant, and what looked like a marina/charter office. A grid of docks angled outward. Men sat around tables in the shade drinking beer, their attention split between the Lifetime camera crew, who stood on the nearest dock, and Deirdre and Avery, at whom their camera and boom microphone were aimed.
    Tires crunched on shell and rock as Nicole Grant pulled into a parking spot beside them, the convertible top down on her bottle-green Jaguar. The Lifetime crew moved closer. The beer drinkers perked up.
    Nicole emerged from the classic convertible like a movie star arriving on set. She wore what looked like a vintage halter sundress, most likely designer, and retro strappy sandals. She unwrapped a brightly patterned silk scarf from around her head and let it fall to her shoulders as she shook out her thick auburn hair.
    She looked like an exotic bird plunked down in the middle of an asphalt jungle.
    “The woman knows how to make an entrance.” Deirdre sighed and looked her daughter up and down. “I’m consoling myself with the fact that you wore underclothing this time.” This had not been the case when they’d arrived in South Beach last spring.
    Network videographer Troy Matthews, whose broad shoulder held the video camera as if it were a toy, shook his shaggy blond hair and laughed. Avery speared Deirdre with a look. She hoped the microphone that Anthony, the teddy bear–shaped soundman, held over their heads wasn’t sensitive enough to pick up the comment.
    “I came to renovate, not model resort wear,” Avery said, running a hand down her cutoff shorts. She used the other to mash at the wrinkles in her Life Is Good T-shirt.
    “Humph.” Deirdre’s hair was decidedly windblown, but the wrinkles in her linen slacks and summer jacket just made them look more expensive.
    “Anyone who can drive a convertible down the Overseas Highway on a day like today and not put the top down doesn’t deserve to be here,” Avery said. “And we’re not wrinkled from the fresh air and sunshine. We’re wrinkled from being crammed in by all your . . . stuff.”
    After a brief scan of the docks, the camera crew, and the watching men, Nicole hugged Avery and Deirdre. Together, the three of them turned their backs on the camera and the men.
    “Any idea why we’re in a marina?” Nicole asked quietly.
    “Nope.” Avery shook her head. “Not a clue. Just the text that told us to turn in here.”
    “Well, I hope we’re just stopping for a drink,” Nicole said, “and not an impromptu fishing trip.” Her nose wrinkled. “They can’t make us fish, can they?”
    “Only if you forgot to add a ‘no fishing’ clause in your contract,” Avery said.
    “Very funny,” Nicole said. They’d all been too desperate to negotiate much of anything. At least nothing favorable to them. “Fishing is a lot like watching paint dry. I don’t do it. Not even for Joe.”
    “Well, then I guess we have to hope we’re just stopping for a potty break or the next set of directions because that sign over there says we’re in the Sportfishing Capital of the World,” Deirdre said.
    There were shouts and the sound of boat engines and churning water. Some of the men left the shade and ambled out to the docks, where they waited as fishing boats began to disgorge sunburned tourists clutching coolers and fishing rods.
    Pelicans and seagulls circled overhead