Ocean Beach by Wendy Wax Page B

“We’ll need to talk about whether to restore to original or renovate.”
    “That will depend on preservation codes and whether Max is planning to live in The Millicent or put it on the market,” Avery said, her tone sharp with the sudden need to wipe the too-happy smile off Deirdre’s face.
    “The man is ninety,” Deirdre pointed out for the second time that morning. “And obviously not up to the task of maintaining this house. He has to be thinking about selling.”
    She and Avery stared at each other.
    “Well, fortunately that decision’s not up to us,” Madeline said in her best mother voice as she peeked inside a walk-inpantry and a laundry/mud room. A half bath opened to the pool.
    They whispered and shushed their way back through the foyer to the living room. With their backs to the fireplace, they studied the baby grand piano that dominated the circular sunroom. Like the dining room set it was made of bird’s-eye maple and banded in mahogany and brass. Its raised split lid gave it the look of an airplane poised for flight.
    There was a noise from behind the closed door to what had to be the master bedroom. They looked at each other. The thud that followed sent Maddie moving toward the bedroom door. “Mr. Golden, are you okay?”
    There was no answer and no further sound.
    “Mr. Golden?” Maddie called again.
    “He probably didn’t hear you,” Avery said, but her voice wavered uncertainly.
    They all moved toward the door.
    “Did anybody bring their cell phone?” Maddie asked as she knocked again. “He could be lying there unable to get up.”
    Deirdre pulled out her cell phone while Madeline knocked more loudly and raised her voice. “Mr. Golden? Mr.—”
    The door swung open.
    Max stood in the doorway. He was neatly shaven and his hair was slicked into place. He wore a blue velvet smoking jacket belted at the waist. A silk paisley cravat was knotted at his neck. The unlit cigar was clutched between two fingers as he opened his arms wide. “Good morning, beautiful ladies,” he boomed. “I trust you all slept well.”
    Kyra moved closer. Dustin waved his feet and hands at Max; his toothless smile lit up his face.
    “And good morning to you, young man,” Max said tothe baby with a courtly bow. “I see you’ve got the best seat in the house.”
    From the room behind Max, the Lifetime cameraman’s voice rang out. “That’s perfect, Max. Just like we rehearsed it. That’s most definitely a take.”

    “Come in, come in,” Max said, motioning with the unlit cigar. “Welcome to the inner sanctum.” He stepped back to allow them to enter the large sun-filled space.
    The bedroom was the largest they’d seen in the house. It had a parquet floor, two closets, and a short hallway that led to a bathroom. But it was the room itself, or rather the room’s decor, that grabbed the eye and refused to let go. Two out of three bedroom walls were covered in a black-and-white-striped silk that had faded and yellowed over time. A turquoise silk chaise and a ladies’ dressing table in the same vibrant shade anchored one end of the room. The other had been turned into a sitting area that was dominated by a black leather recliner that had molded itself to Max Golden’s posterior and that faced a tabletop television. The walls were covered in framed black-and-white photos. Maddie tried but wasn’t able to make out their subject matter from where she stood.
    Troy and Anthony stood next to their equipment, which had been set up across from the recliner and was currently aimed toward the bedroom door and them.
    “I thought we agreed on a nine-thirty start,” Kyra said to Troy.
    “Me too,” the cameraman said. He made a show of consulting his watch. “But it’s only eight-thirty now. Yet here you are.”
    Madeline could actually feel Kyra wrestling for control. Dustin must have felt it too because he’d stopped waving his arms at Max and was craning his neck to look up at his mother. Avery and