by Judith Keim
“Welcome to The Beach House Hotel, Madame Vice President,” I said, holding out my hand. “I’m Ann Sanders, one of the hotel’s owners.”
Strong fingers gripped my hand. “Very glad to meet you and to be here.” She turned to Rhonda. “And you must be Ms. Grayson.”
“Yes. We’re honored to have you stay with us,” said Rhonda, looking as if she didn’t know whether to curtsey or not.
“Let’s go inside where we can talk privately,” Amelia said.
“Please, come in.” I took her elbow and led her up the steps. The security agent who’d stood by the door headed indoors while another followed at our heels.
Behind me, I noticed the female guard pacing outside the limousine and wondered who or what she was protecting.
We entered the hotel.
“Come this way,” said Rhonda.
She led us to the small, private dining room we used for confidential gatherings. Sound-proofed, it had housed many private discussions that never left the room.
The vice president waited for one of the agents to finish his visual sweep of the interior, and then she motioned both men to stay back before closing the door, leaving the three of us alone in the room.
“Would you like a seat?” I asked, a little confused by all that was happening.
“No, thank you,” she said, smiling. “I’ve been sitting for a while and need to stretch my legs.” She studied Rhonda and turned to me. “What I’m about to tell you can go no further. Understand?”
Rhonda and I glanced at each other and spoke together. “Yes. We do.”
“I won’t be staying here but will instead be secretly traveling to Central America to try and rescue a woman from a revolutionary group that’s been holding her prisoner. I made the reservation here at the hotel because you’re known for being discreet. Tina Marks, that fabulous actress, credits the two of you with saving her life. So, if newspaper reporters ask about my staying here, it won’t seem out of the ordinary for you to decline to give out any information. A woman running from domestic abuse will be using my reservation in my place.”
“I see ...” I began, but she held up her hand to stop me.
“This woman is my sister and the wife of the president’s brother.”
I felt my breath leave me in a rush and gripped Rhonda’s arm.
“Oh my God! I read about her in the newspaper,” gasped Rhonda. “It’s a terrible story of abuse.”
“You understand how important it is that no one, not even other members of the family, know where she is or what I’m about to do on a secret mission for the government.”
“Not even the president?” Rhonda asked, wide-eyed.
“Definitely not him, though he knows, of course, that I’m pretending to be here and where I’m going,” Amelia explained. “The president thinks my sister’s recuperating in total privacy at their home in Vermont while her husband is in a rehab program in California. See why this is so important?”
I nodded silently, wondering what would happen if we failed. Lives were being placed in our hands. I recalled that Amelia’s sister had met her husband on the campaign trail a couple of years ago. Their wedding had been the romantic story of the year. What on earth had happened?
“We’re gonna take good care of your sister. What happened to her shouldn’t happen to any woman. Right, Annie?” said Rhonda, elbowing me.
“Absolutely. I understand what a difficult situation this must be for everyone, but we’ll do everything you ask. We’ve seen many people come and go at the hotel, heard many stories, and helped many people in various positions. We routinely have VIPs here at the hotel who need discretion,” I assured the vice president. “Our staff is trained to protect privacy.”
Amelia let out a long breath. “Okay, then. I’ve announced I’m taking a private vacation. My sister, Lindsay Thaxton, and I look enough alike to be twins, which is why people might not question my ‘supposed’ presence here. You have her placed in the private home here, correct?” she asked, looking at me.
“Yes. She’ll be staying in the guesthouse on the property as you requested.”
“My trip shouldn’t last more than a week. During that time, Lindsay will decide if she wants to continue staying here or find another place to hide until things calm down. The president isn’t happy about the situation, but there’s no way I could let Lindsay remain vulnerable to that brute of a husband of hers. Now that she’s filed for divorce, she still needs protection.”
Amelia Swanson’s history was much like her sister’s. Married to a wealthy man who’d mistreated her, Amelia made her escape and began a foundation for abused women. A reputation for speaking out and holding steady helped her build a political career. Nearing fifty and single, she was known as a formidable woman who didn’t take bullshit from anyone, not even Edward Thaxton, the president of the United States.
“Is there anything special we should do for your sister ... you ... while she’s here?” I asked.
“A young woman I trust from past Secret Service experience will be staying with Lindsay in the house. She can be a confidential source of communication for you. Both of you come with me, and I’ll introduce you to them.”
“Would it be better if we met them at the house to avoid drawing attention to your sister or her companion?” I asked.
The vice president settled her blue-eyed gaze on me. “Good idea. As you can imagine, Lindsay’s a little skittish anyway.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll see that she’s well taken care of,” said Rhonda. “I’ve read the stories about it all, and I promise no frickin’ rat bastard will ever treat her like that again.”
Amelia’s eyes widened, and then she laughed. “I like you two as much as everyone said I would.”
Rhonda and I accompanied Amelia back to the limousine. She and the agents smoothly disappeared inside, leaving us with two other guards—the man and woman we’d seen now walked beside the limo as it began to roll along the front circle and over to the guesthouse.
Originally a caretaker’s cottage that I’d transformed into a small but comfortable home, the house had served as a private retreat for my husband, Vaughn, and me for a time before we moved off the hotel property. Then it was turned over to the hotel as a unique, private accommodation for VIP guests. Nestled and nearly hidden among the greenery in a corner of the property, it was the perfect place for Lindsay Thaxton to hide.
We met the limousine in the guesthouse driveway and waited while the Secret Service did a quick check around the area before signaling me to open the door to the house.
I unlocked the door and stood aside as one of the bodyguards checked the interior. At a thumbs-up sign from him, the vice president stepped out of the car and turned to help her sister.
Lindsay Thaxton emerged and stared at her surroundings. So thin that she seemed a fragile china doll, she looked like a much more vulnerable version of her older sister. They shared brown hair, blue eyes, and facial features, but there the similarity ended. Lindsay’s hunched shoulders, the way she glanced around nervously, and the trembling of her lips presented a much different woman from her take-charge, confident sister.
After they’d entered the house and surveyed each room, Lindsay gave a slight nod of approval. “This is lovely. I’ll be comfortable here.”
As Lindsay stepped out to the lanai with Rhonda, I caught hold of the vice president’s arm. “We’ll have to tell a few others on the hotel staff and in our families about Lindsay. Rhonda and I are slowly introducing our daughters, Liz Bowen and Angela Smythe, to our business in the hopes they will someday assume duties here. We want them to know what’s going on, along with Bernhard Bruner, our general manager. And, both our husbands are trustworthy. It would be awkward if they didn’t know. Especially because of the time we’ll commit to keeping Lindsay safe.”
The vice president’s smile was a little sheepish. “Oh, yes. I should have told you. We’ve done background checks on your families and all the staff here. It will,
however, be up to you and Rhonda to control the information and help keep my sister secure. Failure is unacceptable.”
Her steady gaze unnerved me, but I dutifully bobbed my head.
Rhonda and I had had to deal with a lot of challenges. Indeed, we could meet this one. Couldn’t we?
CHAPTER TWO
Later, after the vice president had bid her sister goodbye and Lindsay and the woman assigned to protect her had unpacked and settled in, Rhonda and I met with them to go over the protocol we should observe during their stay.
I was pleased to see a little more color had entered Lindsay’s cheeks. In time, I hoped the lines of stress that marred her beauty would disappear. Studying her more closely, I could see the pale yellow of bruises on her cheeks and noticed the off-center position of her nose. The news stories had told of physical abuse, but I hadn’t realized it was so severe. One arm was still in a cast. It was disturbing to see how her husband had brutalized her.
Debra McDonald, the woman assigned to protect her, was of medium height and clearly worked out. Now dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, the muscles in her arms and legs were well-defined. Dark-brown curly hair cut short surrounded a face with strong features and light-brown eyes that drilled into you, making her appear intimidating.
“We want you to know that you will be safe here, Lindsay,” said Rhonda. “Only a few people will know you’re staying with us, and we’re ready to provide you with any service you need right here at the house.”
“Bernhard Bruner, Bernie, is the general manager, and he’s as trustworthy as they come,” I said. “Ana, our head of housekeeping, will be the only one to see to the cleaning of the house unless she notifies you with the name of another staff member.”
Debra nodded her agreement. “As few staff members as possible should be admitted into the house.”
“Our daughters, Liz Bowen and Angela Smythe, will also know the details.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that,” said Debra. “I received a full report.”
“Is there anything we can get you now?” I asked. “The refrigerator and cupboards have been stocked as Amelia requested.”
Debra turned to Lindsay.
“No, thank you. You have been so kind.” Her eyes filled. “I appreciate being here. You have no idea...” She stopped, drew a long, shaky breath, and rose. “Thank you. Please excuse me. I’m not feeling well. I’m going to lie down for a while.”
“Well, then,” said Rhonda, giving her an encouraging nod. “If you need anything else, just give us a call.”
I rose and followed Rhonda out of the house, wondering what we’d gotten ourselves into. A full report? What else had Debra learned about us?
Outside, Rhonda faced me. “I’m tellin’ ya, Annie, after seeing what he did to Lindsay, if that guy ever comes here, I’ll take care of him in a hurry. He’ll be sorry he was ever born with balls.”
I grinned and gave her a high five, not doubting her words for a minute. Rhonda had grown up in a tough neighborhood and had learned to protect herself early on. It still amused me how her whole life had changed by winning one hundred eighty-seven million dollars in the Florida lottery. Without it, she might still be in New Jersey, and I might still be alone in Boston, wondering what I was going to do to survive after a nasty divorce.
“Guess we’d better call the girls and tell them what’s going on,” I said. “We don’t want them stumbling onto any surprises.”
“Yeah,” said Rhonda. “Think the day will ever come when we can leave them in charge?”
“With Angela having one baby and another on the way and Liz wanting to start a family, it’s not going to be anytime soon.”
Rhonda placed a hand on my shoulder. “All these babies. Annie, that was us not long ago.”
I laughed. “Now that your Willow and Drew are four and almost three, and my Robbie is six, it’s a little easier, but we need to carry on until our daughters are ready to take over. I don’t mind. The idea of someone else handling the hotel is something that will be hard for me. Especially after our experience with Aubrey Lowell and the Sapphire Hotel Group.”
“Yeah, those bastards almost ruined The Beach House Hotel.” Rhonda let out a sigh that spoke volumes. “If we hadn’t repurchased the hotel, it would’ve become a South Beach wannabe. Definitely not how we want to run our business.”
“Absolutely not. There’s a niche for us and guests who want an upscale, quiet, private time.” I shot a glance at Rhonda. “I’m glad we can help Lindsay. I wonder what will happen when the president and his family find out she’s been staying here.”
“I’d be proud to tell them,” said Rhonda. “Just because someone is in a position of power, they don’t have the right to abuse others. Edward Thaxton may have run a campaign on moral values and helpful social programs, but it seems neither has been a real part of his life. All talk.”
“Yeah, his opponent was no better,” I said, disgusted. “Women have made many strides, but much more is needed. This idea it’s okay for a guy to go after the woman who wants to divorce him is just plain wrong. A woman isn’t a piece of property.”
We walked into the hotel, and seeing Bernie, waved him over.
“Can we meet with you right now?” I asked.
He frowned. “I saw the black limo and security out front. I didn’t realize they’d already arrived. We did not expect them until later.”
“That’s what we want to discuss with you. We just found out the story behind the vice president’s visit,” I said.
“Yeah, it’s a doozy. Wait until you hear,” said Rhonda. She looked around carefully and lowered her voice. “It’s all very hush-hush.”
We led Bernie into the library and closed the door behind us. “First of all, Vice President Swanson is not staying with us,” I began. “Her sister, Lindsay Thaxton, is staying in her place.”
Bernie’s eyebrows rose. “The president’s sister-in-law? The one who got beat up by her husband?”
“The same,” said Rhonda. “We’ve got to protect her here.”
“As far as anyone else knows, the vice president is having a private vacation. If people find out it’s here, her sister, who looks very much like her, will be seen only from a distance, making the public believe Amelia is here.”
“In the meantime, she’s taking a secret trip,” said Rhonda, her eyes alight with intrigue.
“For now, that’s all anyone needs to know. The purpose for Lindsay’s stay here is to have privacy while she heals and is going through the divorce process.”
“How long is she going to be here?” asked Bernie, his expression grave. “Do we need to add to our security team? Special meals? What?”
“She has a bodyguard staying in the house with her,” I explained. “A young woman named Debra McDonald, who looks very capable of handling anything that might come along. But I think it’s a good idea to keep communication between the guesthouse and the hotel to a minimum and very private. Debra can be the go-between.”
“But, Annie, if she orders special meals, how do we tell Jean-Luc about it?” asked Rhonda.
“We’ll just say, the vice president is requesting this or that. How does that sound, Bernie?”
Bernhard Bruner was a very dignified man who’d only relented to our calling him Bernie because of Rhonda’s insistence we treat our staff like family. Besides, she’d informed him in her inimitable way, if she wanted to call him Bernie, she would.
“I think everyone will accept that it’s the vice president making such requests. Jean-Luc and the others don’t need to know anything more,” said Bernie. “Ana, as head housekeeper, should be the only one on the staff to be assigned to the house. That will keep security tight and make it easier on them. If needed, I can be in touch with her regarding any changes.”
“Yes, that would work. We’ve been investigated and found to be safe and reliable.”
Bernie’s eyebrows shot up. “Investigated? By whom? The Secret Service?”
“Yes. Amelia
can’t trust the president,” said Rhonda. “That’s why everything is so secret.”
Bernie studied each of us. “Okay. It’s highly unusual but nothing we can’t handle.”
“Love ya, Bernie,” said Rhonda, clapping him on the back.
I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath until it came out in a puff of relief. “Thank you. I just hope it doesn’t backfire and hurt our business in the long run. We’re playing with a lot of powerful people.”
“I trust our staff to be discreet. They know it could be cause for losing their job if they’re not,” said Bernie. “But it’s up to us to keep everything quiet. I’ll go over and introduce myself so Debra and Lindsay can meet the real me. They, apparently, already know who I am.”
“Okay, how about the rest of our guests? We’re fully booked, aren’t we?”
Bernie’s smile acknowledged it. “For the next four days. It seems New England is having a nasty spring.”
“Nice,” said Rhonda. “Love to hear news like that.”
I laughed, remembering my first visit with Rhonda ...
We’d had a beautiful Thanksgiving together in Florida while it sleeted and snowed in Boston for my ex-husband, Robert, and his new love, Kandie, the voluptuous receptionist in the office of our business. Kandie with a K, she’d called herself, as she eagerly took my place before I officially left it. Who knew that after an automobile accident killed them both, Vaughn and I would be raising their son, Robbie? At the time of their death, Liz was given custody of him. But a college student herself, she’d finally agreed it made sense for Vaughn and me to adopt him. As Robbie’s parents, we could give him a stable life. And we truly loved him ...
“Is that all?” Bernie asked, checking his watch, startling me from my thoughts.
“Oh, yes, sorry. I was thinking how unpredictable life could be. When Lindsay married Thomas Thaxton two years ago, it was considered the social event of the year. Who knew a man so charming had a whole different side to him?”
“Nobody but his family,” grumped Rhonda. “They should’ve known.”
