Free The House on Mermaid Point by Wendy Wax Page B

the sun sink into the bay. He had no idea how long it was going to take to separate alcohol from the pleasure of sunset and absolutely no interest in sharing that evening struggle with any of them.
    Back in the day he would have just said no. Or stalked off, which would have been even clearer and far more satisfying.
    “Why don’t we just do the grounds and the outbuildings for now?” Tommy suggested smoothly. “That’ll give you tonight to get settled and we can tour the house in the morning when the light is good.”
    Will cut a look at his son, oddly pleased. He’d have at least one more night to pretend that none of this was happening.
    The little boy looked up. The child’s mother lowered her camera, letting it hang from a strap on her shoulder, and reached for the child. When she had him she turned so that his face was hidden from the network camera.
    “Why don’t we start at the back of the island and work our way toward the dock?” Tommy suggested. Before Will could object or bail out on the tour altogether, Tommy was leading the way down what had once been the main driveway.
    At the northwestern edge of the island, the three-car detached garage sat in a clearing near the narrow strip of fill that had once served as a land bridge to U.S. 1. The electric poles that had been placed along it could still be seen above the dense foliage and water that had obliterated the road.
    The three-bayed wooden structure housed his Jeep and a rust-riddled riding lawn mower that hadn’t been used in this millennium. Several boat motors that Hudson used for parts had been propped against one wall. Broken gardening equipment and assorted junk was stacked throughout the space in no discernible order, and oil covered the floor. An outside staircase led to the second floor, which was the same size as the garage and had balconies facing east and west. Part of it had been finished for the cook/maid he’d employed for a while. It had a small sitting room and a bedroom and bath.
    “How come there’s no road anymore?” the redhead called Nicole asked.
    “Didn’t really need it,” he replied with a shrug.
    “It’s not actually completely . . .” Tommy began, but for once he obeyed Will’s cease-and-desist look. They didn’t owe these people an explanation for everything—or anything—as far as he was concerned. “The backup generator is over there near the utility shed.”
    Will looked down at his watch and tried not to think about how thirsty he was. He’d managed to ditch the little white stick while they were tromping through the overgrowth. He pulled another Tootsie Pop out of his pocket and led them back down the path. At the fork he cut over toward the dock on the southern edge of the island.
    “What’s over there?” the older blonde asked, gesturing to the path he hadn’t taken. Toward the one building he had no intention of showing them.
    “Nothing you need to worry about,” he said, but she was already turning the other way, peering through the tree branches and leaves and vines. He had no idea how she’d spotted it through the overgrowth that screened it from the path. The others followed, forcing him to turn back.
    “It’s adorable!” Deirdre said. “And so quaint.” It might have been Christmas and Easter all rolled into one, the way she carried on.
    The small one-bedroom house had been here when he bought the island, a squat single-story building built of coral blocks, called keystone, that were set in a mosaic of rectangles. It was topped by a simple gabled tin roof. A bamboo pole fence slip-knotted loosely together with rope bounded it on three sides and left gaps that you could see through. It sat on a small rise and overlooked a wide swath of ocean. He happened to know that the small porch commanded the best sunrise view on the island.
    “Why is there a padlock on the door?” Deirdre asked, as if being allowed on his property somehow entitled her to ask whatever the hell kind of