Breakfast at the Beach House Hotel

by Judith Keim

  “I have no idea why he would say something like that unless you purposely baited him. What did you say to him?”

  Brock smirked. “Just that you and I are dating.”

  Dismay knotted my stomach. “Why would you say something like that? It’s not true.”

  “Everything all right, Ann?”

  At the sight of Vaughn striding toward me, I fought the urge to run to him. “Brock is just leaving.”

  Brock’s eyes widened. “Don’t keep avoiding me, Ann. It’s not good for business.” He glanced at Vaughn and threaded his way through the crowd toward the living room doors.

  I watched him carefully to make sure he actually was leaving. When I turned to face Vaughn, he was talking to Roger Sloan. Not wanting to interrupt, I went to check on Manny. My mind spun at Vaughn’s concern for me. What did it mean?

  The next morning, Rhonda and I sipped coffees in the office. I told her about Roger and Darlene’s comments regarding privacy for our guests.

  “What do you think they meant by that?” I asked.

  Rhonda grinned. “It could be the people they know would want to bring special guests, not necessarily their wives or girlfriends or boyfriends.”

  I could feel my eyes widen. “Oh my God! You don’t mean we’re going to run a high-class whorehouse, do you?”

  Rhonda laughed. “Of course not, honey. I wouldn’t want to do that! But I’ve read that sometimes high-powered people need a place to go where they know the maids aren’t going to sell a story to a scandal sheet, and other guests aren’t going to stare at them. I once heard about a place in Wales like that. Famous people go there knowing no one is going to talk about them if they don’t wear makeup or their toupées or whatever. Their privacy is guaranteed.”

  “Oh, I think we can do that,” I said, mollified by Rhonda’s revelation. “In fact, when we have the new brochures printed up, why don’t we add a blurb that says privacy and discretion are a special part of your visit, or something similar.”

  “Good idea.” Rhonda rose to her feet. “See you a little later. I’m going to help Angela pack the car with the girls’ things while you see how we’re going to get all these people to the airport this afternoon. Just think, by tonight we’ll be all by ourselves again. It’s going to seem mighty quiet around here.”

  “Too quiet.” I was disappointed I wouldn’t have more time with Liz and sorry that the television people, especially Vaughn, would no longer be around. His smile and the way we talked so easily would be sorely missed. The tension of wondering when I’d meet up with him during the day had added anticipation to each of my activities.

  Later, Rhonda and I waved goodbye as the girls pulled out of my driveway in the little white BMW. They were driving to Boston, so Angela could have her car at school. As I watched them disappear down the driveway, my eyes misted over. Where had the years gone?

  Tears rolled unabashedly down Rhonda’s cheeks. “Seems like yesterday Angela was a baby, taking her first steps. Now, she’s off on her own. I’m getting old, standing here crying like a baby myself.”

  I gave her a sympathetic squeeze, wiped my eyes, and blew my nose.

  At the hotel, the scene was of organized chaos. Manny and Paul were piling luggage into the van while the crew and stars of the show stood about, waiting for the limousines to arrive.

  Vaughn came over to me. “Thanks for everything. It was a great way to film these segments. You have a beautiful place here, Ann. Good luck!”

  His dark eyes bore into mine. My pulse sprinted. Once more, I had the feeling that he was able to see deep inside me where I hid my feelings. He lifted my hand and smiled at me, a little sadly. “I meant what I said about you on the beach that day. You’re beautiful, and I don’t mean just the way you look. I wish ...”

  “Hey, Vaughn, come here.” Roger waved him over.

  Vaughn left me, and Nell approached, smiling. “I’m trying to talk Dad into coming down here for Thanksgiving. We’ll see. He can be very stubborn, and for some reason, he’s resisting me on this.” She gave me a knowing look. “I think you scare him, Ann.”

  “Me?” Surprised, I glanced at Vaughn, now chatting amiably with Manny.

  “He told me how attracted he is to you. Yet he still misses my mother. I told him it’s time for him to move on,” she said softly, glancing at him. “We’ll see if he does.”

  A warmth that had nothing to do with the heat of the day burned inside me. I hadn’t imagined the attraction, after all. I blurted out, “I understand. I like him a lot, Nell.” Feeling like a school girl with a crush, I added, “Actually, more than a lot.”

  Nell smiled and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, then walked over to one of the limousines waiting in the front circle.

  I watched Nell and Vaughn settle in the backseat of the limo. The memory of Vaughn’s hand curled around mine on the beach that special early morning filled my mind. He’d made me feel spiritually one with him. I’d never felt that way with anyone else—certainly not with Robert. Looking back now, I realized Robert and I had been more business partners than anything else.

  After the last of the vehicles left, I was suddenly overcome with ambivalent feelings. I was so attracted to Vaughn it almost hurt. But realistically, Vaughn Sanders, the actor, would be difficult to live with. His schedule, the fact that women threw themselves at him, and his dedication to his craft would be problematic.

  Rhonda came over to me. “The staff is busy cleaning the rooms. Will called and asked me to lunch. You don’t mind if I go, do you, Annie?”

  I shook my head. “Of course not. Go and enjoy yourself!”

  Time for a dose of reality, I told myself, as Rhonda went into the hotel to get ready for her date, and I returned to the office to check the financials from the soap’s visit.

  That night, as I restlessly switched from one evening television show to another, I tried to relax. But every male character on the screen morphed into a broad-shouldered man with dark tumbling curls and eyes that challenged me. I finally switched off the TV and stumbled into bed, determined to put Vaughn Sanders behind me. No matter what Nell said, I knew Vaughn was not ready for a new relationship. And with him in New York and me in Florida, there was no chance of it going any further.

  I was just about to turn out my light when the phone rang.

  “Annie! I saw a light on in your room and had to call you! The most wonderful thing has happened. Will has asked me to marry him! We think we’re going to get married around Christmas! Will you be in my wedding party?”

  All grumpiness left me. “Oh, Rhonda! Of course! I’d love to!”

  “I didn’t think this would ever happen to me!” Rhonda gushed. “I’m so happy I can’t stand it! Wait’ll I tell you what he did! He put a diamond ring in my water glass. It was so adorable.”

  My heart surged with joy for her. Eager to hear all the delicious details, I curled up under the covers on my bed, the phone to my ear.

  ###

  Our days fell into a new routine. When Rhonda was not on duty at the hotel, she spent her nights with Will. After catering to demands from guests, purveyors, and advisors all day, his home in another section of town was, she said, a welcome retreat for her. Lately, my free time was spent in front of my sewing machine working on window treatments for the house. As much as I didn’t enjoy it, I figured I was saving a whole lot of money by doing this myself. Whenever I felt self-pity about to overwhelm me, I reminded myself I was much better off independent and lonely than in a marriage that was a failure.

  Rhonda approached me one day. “Annie, I’ve watched you for weeks now. You’re not doing anything for fun. Don’t you think you should? You can’t stay here and work all the time.”

  I sighed. “It seems like such a chore to get out. It’s hard to meet people in town when I’m so involved with work. I feel like we can’t leave the hotel. We never know when we’ll be needed around here.”

  Rhonda nodded. “It’s tough on both of us. Maybe it’s time to hire
more help—at least during the season. The New York crowd is starting to come through with reservations. February, March, and April are pretty well booked. We’re gonna need some breaks, or we’ll go crazy.” She gave me a pat on the back. “In the meantime, you’re going to a Halloween party with Will and me Saturday night. And, Annie, I won’t take no for an answer. I’ll have Dorothy come and stay here so we can both go. She’ll love it.”

  I wasn’t crazy about the idea, but once Rhonda made up her mind about something, there was no use arguing with her.

  By Saturday, I was glad I’d accepted Rhonda’s invitation. The week had been trying.

  To top it off, late that morning, Robert finally returned my phone calls.

  “What is it, Ann?” he snapped. “You’re spoiling my weekend.”

  “Your check is past due, Robert. You signed a legal document agreeing to pay on a certain schedule. I need the money, Robert. It’s mine.”

  “C’mon, Ann. I’m not stupid. In one of her magazines, Kandie read all about The Sins of the Children being filmed at The Beach House Hotel. You don’t need the money. I do.”

  I clenched my teeth together so I wouldn’t scream.

  “You there, Ann?”

  “One week, Robert. If the check isn’t here, I’ll be forced to turn it over to Syd.”

  “You ... you ...”

  Burning with resentment, I slammed down the phone. He thought our having the soap opera group here for a couple of weeks meant we were wildly successful and had no worries. But I knew better. Rhonda and I had been warned time and time again the hotel business was one good cycle followed by a not-so-good one or worse. A turn-down in the economy, rising gas prices, iffy weather, and the ever-present threat of hurricanes could ruin our goals.

  I dressed for the party and gazed into the mirror. The black robe of the witch’s costume concealed my body. Green paint covered my face. The pointed hat atop a gray wig hid my own natural color. No one, I thought gleefully, would recognize me.

  Will and Rhonda came to the door to pick me up. I waved a long-handled broom at them and emitted a nasty laugh.

  “That’s great, Annie!” Rhonda wore a red cape and hood that almost covered her wild, blond hair. “How do you like Little Miss Red Riding Hood?”

  I chuckled. “I do.” With Will’s diamond ring on her finger, Rhonda’s self-image had been transformed into a lovely, young thing. Good love is magic, I thought wistfully.

  At the party, I strolled among guests I didn’t know, feeling secure hidden behind my costume. A group of costumed men stood talking at the bar. Hearing a familiar voice among them, I took cover behind a nearby pillar.

  “It makes me mad, I tell you, to think that a beautiful neighborhood like ours has a commercial enterprise like a hotel in the middle of it,” I heard Brock Goodwin say.

  “Come now, Brock,” said another masculine voice. “The Beach House Hotel isn’t just any little hotel. It’s a first-class establishment. And, you must admit, it looks a lot better now than it did a few years ago. Rhonda keeps it in meticulous condition—something the former owners couldn’t afford to do.”

  “Say, Brock,” another voice added with a sly tone. “Why are you so upset? I thought you had a thing going with Rhonda’s partner.”

  “She’s a looker, all right,” said someone else in the group.

  “Yeah? Well, looks can be deceiving,” growled Brock. “Trust me. I know. She’s nothing but a cock tease.”

  “I’d like to give her a whirl, just the same,” one of the group members added.

  Feeling queasy, I leaned against the marble column. Why couldn’t Brock just accept I didn’t want to go out with him? And why the bad stuff about the hotel? Was he one of those guys whose ego dictated badmouthing everything and everybody who’d ever rejected him?

  From his place near Rhonda, an elderly gentleman dressed like a pirate, edged over to me.

  “My wife and I wish all the success in the world to you and Rhonda. I understand you’re going to be receiving some pretty important guests. My contact in Washington tells me a senator from Iowa is coming down this winter to stay at your place.”

  I turned to him with a smile. “Actually, we have quite a few famous people making reservations with us. But, of course, I can’t mention any names. Our guests trust us to be discreet.”

  His eyes twinkled. “I like that. My wife and I have been talking about coming over for one of your Sunday breakfasts for some time now.”

  “Breakfast is Rhonda’s specialty. Come anytime. We’d love to have you.”

  He shuffled away, and my earlier worries about Brock’s remarks eased. Sabal was filled with interesting people who would, I’m sure, see Brock for the shallow, egotistical, selfish man he was. But in the meantime, what other nasty things would he try to pull?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  We remained busy, learning more and more about unexpected situations with guests in the house. But as busy as we were, my thoughts drifted to Vaughn. I relived that day on the beach with him over and over in my mind. I even imagined him calling to tell me how much he missed me. Worse, just to see him, I’d taken to sneaking into the hotel library when his show came on television. Foolish of me, but I couldn’t stop. Rhonda sweetly pretended not to notice.

  As I was researching on-line advertising campaigns, the phone rang. Hoping for another reservation, I eagerly picked it up and chirped, “The Beach House Hotel!”

  “Hello ... This is Rhonda’s husband, Sal DelMonte. Where’s Rhonda?”

  My breath caught with surprise. “I’m sorry, but she’s not here at the moment.”

  “It’s really important. I gotta talk to her. Tell her I’ll call back at six, and tell her she’d better be there.”

  Before I could protest, he hung up the phone.

  Rhonda’s husband? I didn’t think so.

  Rhonda came into the office a little later, and I gave her the message.

  She frowned. “I wonder what he wants. He never calls unless he wants something. And what is this business about being my husband? He was my husband. He damn well isn’t now!”

  Rhonda went ahead and changed her plans to meet Will so she’d be available to receive Sal’s phone call.

  At six o’clock that evening, the phone in the office rang.

  I got up and left the office to give Rhonda privacy. When I returned, Rhonda was sitting in her desk chair staring blankly into space, her face unusually pale.

  My pulse sprinted. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

  Tears filled Rhonda’s eyes. “You’re not going to believe this. Sal’s dying of cancer. They’ve told him it’s a matter of weeks. He’s scared and wants to come home.”

  I frowned. “Come home? This isn’t his home anymore. You told me he hasn’t been in touch with Angela or you for a long time now.”

  Rhonda nodded sadly. “The sonuvabitch didn’t even call Angela on her last two birthdays.”

  “So, what did you tell him?” I asked gently. She looked pale.

  Rhonda let out a deep sigh. “I told him I’d think about it.” She held up a hand. “I know what you’re thinking, but Sal and I go back a long way. He’s going to call me tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” I thought of all the problems to be worked out in a situation like this.

  Rhonda bit her lip. “He didn’t say so, but I betcha he’s out of money. I don’t know for sure, but I suspect he got into drugs in Miami. He called me one time when he was high.”

  “Are you sure he’s not dying of AIDS?”

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. But I’ve got a choice to make, and I’m not sure what I’m going to do.”

  A little while later, Rhonda came to me. “Will’s real unhappy with the news. Now I really don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “What did Will say?”

  “He told me Sal should be with hospice. After all the years of taking care of his sick wife, he knows that even with nurses doing most of the work, it’s a tremendous dr
ain on energy and money.”

  Her eyes filled. “He asked me what it would do to our wedding plans. I told him it shouldn’t make a difference, but you know Will. He’s old-fashioned. He said it would place him in an awkward situation to be planning a wedding while my ex-husband was living with me, and dying. If Sal comes back, Will wants to postpone the wedding.”

  Rhonda buried her head in her hands. My heart went out to her. I understood her goodness, but I was worried what it would do to everyone if she took him in here at the hotel.

  ###

  Sal DelMonte arrived “home” to die on a gray day. I stood with Rhonda at the base of the steps, ready to greet him. I’d known he was short in stature, but when he emerged from the taxi that delivered him to The Beach House Hotel, he seemed shrunken to a child-like size. His body was emaciated and his face pale.

  He acknowledged me with a nod and turned to Rhonda. “You look good, Rhonda. Uh ... real ... uh ... healthy.”

  Rhonda let out a snort. “When haven’t I ever been big and healthy, Sal?”

  He held up his hands. “I meant it as a compliment. Honest.”

  I left them and went back to the office to write up an ad for extra staff. I had no illusions about the time commitment Rhonda had made in promising to help Sal.

  She returned to the office, and I handed her the ad copy. “What do you think?”

  Rhonda glanced over it. “Fine. We’re going to need somebody because it’s going to be a rough few weeks with Sal. He looks awful, Annie. Absolutely awful. You should have seen him after he climbed the stairs. He’s so weak. And he was a guy that was always on the go. It used to make me tired sometimes, just watching him.”

  “It’s sad, I’m sure.” I took her hand. “No word from Angela, yet?”

  Rhonda shook her head. “I want to give her a chance to think about my letter before calling me. She might not understand why I’m doing this. After all, he’s hurt her terribly.”

  Sal’s first day at The Beach House Hotel indicated what a poor patient he was going to be. He called Rhonda on the intercom several times requesting in a whining voice for her to come and help him unpack, to bring him a glass of homemade lemonade, to bake him his favorite cookies, and on and on.