Free The House on Mermaid Point by Wendy Wax Page A

the hell an innkeeper was supposed to be, they’d come to the wrong island.
    “If you’re going to own a bed-and-breakfast you’re going to have to get used to having guests,” Tommy had said reasonably, as if having strangers tromping around your home would ever be reasonable.
    But Will was not going to share his personal space with anyone until he absolutely had to. Until the first paying guest arrived, he’d hope for some last-minute reprieve. Or a lightning strike of luck, like the one that had yanked him out of obscurity and poverty and put him on that first rung on the climb to the top of the charts.
    The network had wanted the
Do Over
cast in the house with him while they renovated. His refusal was the only argument he’d won. Once, no one, not even his son, would have argued with him. Those were the days—when people jumped to please him. And everyone agreed with pretty much any stupid-ass thing he said.
    The little boy’s mother pulled a plastic cup and a baggie of little cheese things out of her camera bag and handed them to her son. “You can put him down, Mom. He can get pretty heavy.”
    The moment the boy’s feet hit the ground he toddled toward the pool, clutching the snack and the drink. Will watched his progress and the way his mother and grandmother stayed close but somehow managed to give him space.
    “Poo!” the little boy said. “Sim!”
    The older woman smiled as the boy wrapped an arm around her thigh. Not the slightly nervous one she’d offered him when they’d been introduced, but a pure and unself-conscious thing that lit her entire face. “Yes,” she said to her grandson. “I bet Mr. Hightower will let you swim sometime. But you never go near the pool without an adult. Never.”
    His son nudged him. “Will,” he mouthed.
    “Will,” Will said before he could decide not to. “You can all call me Will.”
    The little boy buried his face against his grandmother’s leg. Will looked at the pool area, seeing it for the first time in a coon’s age through other eyes. Tommy had brought a cleaning crew out and the pool water sparkled. The Jacuzzi and the decking had been scrubbed, too, but it was hard to ignore the cracks in the concrete or the missing decorative tiles. The iron outdoor furniture was scarred and peeling, the cushions ripped and faded. It had been years since anyone had tried to tame the jungle that crept ever closer to the house and the pool deck. A cleaning crew had been all over the house, too, with instructions to eliminate the cobwebs and dust bunnies that Will had never even noticed back when daylight had been for sleeping through and nighttime had been spent so bleary-eyed he wouldn’t have seen an alligator if it were soaking in his bathtub.
    Without the cotton wool of alcohol wrapped around him, this place looked as old and tired as he felt.
    In the pavilion he stood silent, letting the breeze wash over him while they studied the built-in outdoor kitchen that had once been state-of-the-art. A couple of wooden tables and chairs sat on the sand-covered concrete slab floor. The place was wired for sound, but he wasn’t even sure if the system worked. A massive fan and light fixture hung from the center of the vaulted ceiling. It circled, emitting a loud squeak each time it completed a rotation.
    “The ceiling is tongue-and-groove Dade County pine,” the older blonde, called Deirdre, said, all excited. “This would be a great spot to serve breakfast and maybe even casual lunches.”
    He had no response for this. His eye caught Madeline Singer’s and they contemplated each other until someone, he had no idea who, cleared their throat.
    “Can we go ahead and see the house now?” the young blond one asked.
    He angled his head to gauge the sun’s position. There was plenty of time before sunset—once a time of day he’d enjoyed almost as much as sunrise—except that now he spent a good part of “the show” battling his thirst for alcohol while he watched