by Rebekah Lyn
Summer Storms
Seasons of Faith, Book 1
Rebekah Lyn
Real Life Books & Media
Copyright © 2011 by Rebekah Lyn
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Real Life Books & Media
329 Cheney Highway #230
Titusville, FL 32780
www.rebekahlynbooks.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Summer Storms/Rebekah Lyn--3rd ed.
Cover art by LLPix.
ISBN: 9781475137385
Other Books by Rebekah Lyn
Seasons of Faith
Summer Storms
Winter’s End
Spring Dawn
Christmas Vow coming soon
Coastal Chronicles
Julianne
Jessie
CHAPTER ONE
Elizabeth Reynolds reclined in the driver’s seat of her 1998 Toyota Camry, as a gold Cadillac with spinning rims and a booming stereo system whizzed past her on the shoulder. Elizabeth shook her head and flicked the air conditioning higher. Heat shimmered off the clogged stream of traffic headed into downtown Orlando. The fifteen-mile commute from her apartment near Sea World to her job downtown took thirty minutes on a good day, and today was not a good day.
Several hundred yards ahead red and blue emergency lights flashed. Her radio, tuned to the local news station, told her a tractor-trailer had overturned causing five other cars to crash as well. One of the vehicles had erupted into flames shutting down Interstate-4 for nearly an hour.
I should have checked the news before I left, Elizabeth thought, as her chest tightened with each creeping movement toward the scene of the accident. She switched the radio to CD and tried to relax to the strains of Mozart’s “Clarinet Concerto in A” but she couldn’t drag her eyes away from the crash, or stop the overwhelming grief from creeping in. Her cell phone jangled and she glanced at the caller id.
“Good morning, Jonathan.”
“Where are you, Lizzie? Your shift started five minutes ago.”
“Haven’t you heard about the mess on I-4?” She inched closer to the accident. The burned out shell of a minivan blocked the right lane, waiting to be loaded onto a tow truck.
“We’re moving slowly. I’ll be there when I can.”
“I’m afraid this is going to have to go on your record.” Jonathan replied in an apprehensive tone.
She sighed. “I’ll see you when I get in.” She dropped the phone back in her purse.
Thirty minutes later, Lizzie stepped from the cool shelter of her car into the sticky moisture of the day. It was a little after nine thirty in the morning and already 98 degrees. Her heels clicked on the pavement as she picked her way through the parking lot. Beads of sweat glistened on her face as she passed through the doors of Hotel Lago.
The lobby was understated with walls the color of sandstone. Four conversational groupings of chairs in a light brown fabric, and several fake plants, positioned in strategic locations to direct the guest flow. She slipped into the front office and popped her head around Jonathan’s door.
“I made it. What did I miss?”
Jonathan, a short man in his mid-forties with sparse black hair and dull green eyes looked up.
“The Jamesons have been asking for you and Austin called in sick again. If you cover his shift I won’t mark you late.”
Lizzie slumped against the wall. Austin, a 22-year-old playboy with wavy blond hair and sexy blue eyes, had developed a tendency of calling in two to three times a week. Lizzie knew the only reason Jonathan didn’t fire him was because he hated confrontation.
“Yeah I can cover his shift. I better call the Jamesons.” She left without waiting for a reply.
As she waited for her computer to start up, she listened to her voicemails. There were two from Mrs. Jameson looking for tickets to Blue Man Group. Lizzie dialed their room.
“Hello?” a frail voice answered.
“Good morning, Mrs. Jameson. I’m so sorry I was late. I hear you are looking for tickets to Blue Man Group. Did you want to go tonight?”
“Oh, good morning, Lizzie. Yes, we heard such wonderful things about them yesterday from this couple we met at the mall.”
Lizzie’s fingers flew across the keyboard as Mrs. Jameson spoke. She smiled as a response appeared in her instant messenger. “Not a problem. I can get you two tickets for eight o’clock tonight. Would you like me to arrange dinner for you as well? There’s a wonderful Italian restaurant at City Walk or maybe your husband would like NBA City.”
“No, thank you. I think we will just dine here before we leave.”
“Okay, if there is anything else you let me know. The tickets will be waiting for you at the front desk after two o’clock. Have a wonderful day.” Lizzie laid the receiver back in its cradle and made notes for the front desk staff.
Thanks so much, Joseph, she typed into the instant messenger. I’ll send someone over to pick up the tickets this morning. A smiley face appeared in reply. She pushed her chair back and set out to meet with the rest of her concierge guests.
The hotel was at capacity and various requests kept Lizzie busy until late afternoon. She sat in the lobby discussing a birthday party with a particularly fastidious guest when she noticed Mr. and Mrs. Jameson approaching the front desk. Mrs. Jameson shuffled slowly and clung to her husband’s arm. Lizzie excused herself and met the elderly couple.
“Good afternoon. I hope you’re having a pleasant day.”
Mrs. Jameson smiled. “Of course. We’ve spent the day catching up on some rest. I admit I haven’t felt so well today.” Her husband guided her toward a group of chairs and helped lower her into one.
“Would you like me to contact a doctor?”
“That isn’t necessary. I had a chemo treatment yesterday and it has just worn me out.”
“If you don’t feel up to going to the show I can reschedule.”
“I hate to waste the tickets.”
“I can assure you, they wouldn’t go to waste. There’s always someone who needs tickets.” Lizzie smiled and laid her hand on Mrs. Jameson’s shoulder. “Why don’t you relax tonight? I can have dinner delivered to your suite.”
“Thank you, Lizzie. That would be ideal,” Mr. Jameson responded before his wife could protest. His clear grey eyes expressed gratitude and relief. “I tried to get her to stay in bed while I went out to pick up some food, but she insisted…”
“Let me grab a couple of menus for you. If you don’t see anything you feel like eating I can get you something else.” She strode across the lobby and disappeared behind the front desk, reappearing in minutes with menus from both of the hotel’s eateries. On her way back to the Jameson’s, she glimpsed her birthday party guest pacing impatiently.
“Why don’t you take a few minutes to look over these? I have to take care of another guest and then I’ll be back.”
“Take your time.”
Lizzie returned to birthday mode. “I apologize. As I was saying, if you can provide me with a photograph of the cake you want, I’ll see what our pastry chef can do, and I’ll have the names of some performers for you in the morning. Would you like me to call or slip a note under your door?”
“Can you leave a note at the front desk? I have an early
meeting. I hate that this conference had to fall on Jeremy’s thirteenth birthday.”
“Don’t worry, it will be perfect.” Lizzie rose to leave.
“Thank you. I know I can be a bit demanding at times.”
Lizzie smiled. “I’m happy to help.” She returned to the Jamesons, noting with concern how frail Mrs. Jameson seemed. She had grown quite fond of the devoted couple. “Have you made any decisions?”
Mr. Jameson stood and handed her the menus. “I would like the lobster ravioli and Lillian would like some soup. Do you think we could get some chicken noodle? I didn’t see any on the menus.”
“Of course. Give me 30 minutes and I’ll bring it up to your room. Is there anything else I can do for you? Would you like a movie to watch this evening?”
“That might be nice. Can we let you know after we get back to the room?” Mr. Jameson replied.
“Of course, just give me a call.”
“Thank you, Lizzie.” Mr. Jameson helped his wife rise from the chair and tenderly escorted her to the elevator.
A chorus of clanging pots and clattering dishes welcomed Lizzie as she entered the main kitchen.
“Hello beautiful!” called a sous chef. She smiled as she weaved in and out of tables with chefs busy preparing for the dinner rush. A rotund man with a red face, thick brown hair tucked into a chefs cap, and penetrating blue eyes waved his hands, berating a line cook. He paused at the sight of Lizzie and shooed the cook away.
“What can I do for you, mon cheri?”
“Hey, Gustave.” Lizzie greeted him, accepting a kiss on each cheek. “I need an order of lobster ravioli and a bowl of chicken noodle soup for the Jamesons in room 703. I will come by to pick it up in thirty minutes.”
“Is that all?” the chef chuckled. “No problem.”
“Well, there is something else,” she hesitated. “Do you think you can make a cake shaped like a dirt bike?” Lizzie gave him her sweetest smile as she made her request.
“A dirt bike?” The chef looked puzzled. “Do you have a picture I can work with?”
“Not yet. I should have one later today. Mrs. Langley in room 210 is here for a conference and her son’s birthday is on Monday. She wants to make it as nice as possible since he is away from all his friends.”
Gustave nodded knowingly. “I understand. You bring me the picture and I make it happen.”
“Thanks,” Lizzie leaned forward and brushed her lips across his cheek. “You’re a rock star.”
Emerging from the service corridor Lizzie heard a shrill woman arguing with one of the front desk agents. Lizzie recognized the guest as one of the hotel’s frequent visitors, Elaine Henderson. She swiftly approached Elaine fixing a pleasant smile on her face.
“Mrs. Henderson, what a surprise. I thought you weren’t arriving until next Thursday.”
“That’s what this young man is saying,” Elaine snapped. “I don’t know why you people don’t have my reservation for tonight. I booked this a month ago.”
“I’m so sorry. Why don’t you go sit down while I figure this out?” Lizzie stretched her arm toward a nearby armchair.
“I don’t know what there is to figure out. I want my room!”
“I understand, Mrs. Henderson. Please let me see what I can do for you. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
Elaine wavered before acquiescing and taking the offered seat. Lizzie turned to the front desk agent.
“Sorry about that, Stephen. You show a reservation for Mrs. Henderson next week don’t you?”
Stephen nodded. “I tried to explain that to her, but she insists she called herself and made the reservation.”
“Will you keep an eye on her? I need to go to my desk and pull her file. I’m pretty sure I have an email from her with the dates she booked.” Lizzie glanced back at the lobby before slipping through the office door.
At her desk, Lizzie clicked through various screens on her computer until she located the email she wanted. She smiled and pressed the print button, grabbing the paper as it spat from the printer.
She returned to the lobby where she found Mrs. Henderson pacing in front of the armchair, an occasional glare directed to the front desk. Lizzie approached calmly, the email dangling from her right hand.
“Mrs. Henderson, please have a seat.” Lizzie waited as Elaine hesitated then plopped into the armchair. “I truly regret any confusion, but I did confirm you booked for next week. Here’s the email you sent me after making the reservation.” Lizzie handed the paper to Elaine and gave her a moment to read it.
“As you can see, you requested I make reservations for you at Bergamo’s, the California Grill, and the Samba Room, and you were very specific on the dates. I would be happy to get you checked in today, but we’re not going to be able to put you in your usual room. Unfortunately, we don’t have any suites available until Saturday.”
Elaine slumped forward, dropping her head into her hands. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. My sister has been in the hospital and I haven’t been myself.”
“I understand. We all make mistakes. I’m sorry to hear about your sister. Is she doing better?”
“She came home from the hospital yesterday but is still in a lot of pain. It was a car accident. The paramedics said she was lucky to be alive. I felt terrible leaving her. I thought she would be better by now and knew I had these reservations…” Her voice trailed off and a tear trembled in the corner of her eye.
A lump rose in Lizzie’s throat at the mention of the car accident, but she kept her emotions in check, leaned forward, and placed a gentle hand on one of Elaine’s. “You don’t have to stay. You can go home and reschedule once your sister has recovered.”
Elaine wiped her eyes and managed a weak smile. “I appreciate that. You’re right; I should be home. Forgive me for making a scene.” She stood and smoothed her pants. “Would you have the valet pull my car around while I go to the restroom to freshen up?”
“I would be happy to. Take your time.” Lizzie pulled her cell phone from her pocket and called to alert the valet team, stopping at the front desk on the way to her office. “Stephen, the Concierge Club is meeting for dinner tomorrow. You should come. Be at Café Marie at six.”
A broad grin split Stephen’s face. “Thanks, Lizzie.”
“You did a good job with Mrs. Henderson.” Lizzie disappeared behind the office door leaving Stephen to revel in his invitation.
CHAPTER TWO
At five thirty, Lizzie shut down her computer, grabbed a bag from under her desk and changed into a faded pair of blue jeans and brown sketchers. The sun was on its westward march toward the Gulf of Mexico and long shadows fell across the sidewalk as Lizzie walked the five blocks to Café Marie.
“Good evening, Lizzie,” the hostess greeted her with a smile. “Stephanie is the only one here so far. She’s at your usual table.”
“Thanks.” Lizzie returned her smile and started toward the back of the restaurant. A few steps in she paused and turned around. “I almost forgot. I invited a new guy, about six-feet tall, lanky, dirty blonde hair, glasses, a bit geeky looking. Will you show him back when he arrives?”
“Happy to.” The hostess waved her on and Lizzie threaded her way to the table, dropping into a chair next to Stephanie.
“You look beat. Tough day?” Stephanie greeted her friend.
“Spent most of the day planning a birthday party for a thirteen-year-old boy.”
“Enough said. You need to start with dessert tonight.”
“Mmm, a plate of cannoli does sound perfect.” Lizzie flipped open the familiar menu. “I invited a new kid tonight. He had to deal with Elaine yesterday and did a pretty good job keeping his cool.”
Stephanie arched an eyebrow. “He? Is he cute?”
“I don’t know.” Lizzie shrugged. “He isn’t my type, but you might like him.”
“Ladies! I’m so sorry you had to wait for us schmucks who don’t have the honor of working downtown,” a baritone voice boomed from the front of t
he restaurant.
Stephanie and Lizzie turned to see James, a broad shouldered man with slick black hair and hazel eyes, trailed by half a dozen other members of the group. James leaned down to drop kisses on their cheeks. Greetings were exchanged as the group took seats. By six o’clock, all twenty professionals had arrived and James gestured for the server to start taking orders.
“Why is there an extra seat?” Mona, one of Lizzie’s former coworkers from her days at Disney, whispered in Stephanie’s ear.
“Lizzie invited a new guy,” Stephanie whispered back. A moment later, the hostess escorted Stephen to the table. He mumbled an apology for being late and clumsily took the remaining seat.
Lizzie rose and tapped her water glass with a fork. “I would like to introduce you all to Stephen Longbottom. Stephen works the front desk at Hotel Lago and did an excellent job dealing with Elaine Henderson. He has the potential to become a great concierge so please take some time to get to know him tonight.” Applause erupted and Stephen offered a shy smile. The women closest to him extended their hands and introduced themselves.
“Welcome, Stephen. I’m Patricia Anders and I’m in Food & Beverage at the Radisson. It takes a lot of patience to deal with Elaine when she is in one of her moods.”
“I didn’t do anything really. It was Lizzie who calmed her down.”
“You didn’t let her break you down,” Lizzie interjected. “We’ve had other people quit because of one encounter with her, but you remained calm. That is what it takes to do this job.”
“That and a membership to Alcoholics Anonymous,” someone shouted from the end of the table causing a burst of laughter.
“If it’s so bad, why do you guys keep doing it? I don’t know if this is the career I want. I just took the job to pay off my college loans.”
“Same here,” chimed in James. “I started out at Disney part-time thinking it would be a short term thing until I could find an accounting job. Ten years later, I left Disney to become an operations manager at Universal. I work with all of the venues at City Walk and absolutely love it. The variety I have every day is something I would never have found in accounting.”
