Breakfast at the Beach House Hotel

by Judith Keim

  My heart leaped when Vaughn’s image filled the screen. He still had a trace of tan and looked more handsome than ever.

  During the show, when his face took on an angry expression as he stared down the ex-boyfriend of his television daughter, I grew amused. He’d worn the same expression when I’d told him about some of Robert’s antics. Becoming involved with the dialogue, I leaned forward.

  “I’ve warned you to stay away from my daughter! You may be the father of her child, but she’s chosen not to marry you.” Vaughn said. “She and the child are going to live with me.”

  “Nobody has the right to take my family away from me!” the distraught young man shouted at Vaughn. “Not you! Not nobody!”

  Susannah Scoville, the female lead, entered the room as Vaughn’s daughter, Esmeralda.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked the angry young man.

  He stopped shaking his fist at Vaughn and turned to her. “I’m here to get my family back. You and little Nicola are my family. I want you with me, not him!”

  “Look here!” said Vaughn. “She isn’t your family. She’s my daughter, and as long as she wants to stay with me, she can. As far as Nicola is concerned, I can give her a much better life than you ever could.”

  “But she’s my baby girl,” the young man cried. “She’s the only family I’ve got. I’m not going to give her up.”

  Her eyes blazing, Esmeralda stepped forward. “She isn’t yours, you fool. I only told you that so you’d stay with me while I got on my feet. I don’t even know who the father is. Now, get out of here before I call the cops!”

  His features twisted with fury. He pulled a gun out of the pocket of his black leather jacket and pointed it at her. “I know she’s mine. She’s all I’ve got, you bitch! You’re not going to take her away from me!”

  Vaughn stepped between his daughter and her angry lover. “Now see here, think of Nicola, not yourself. Just put the gun away, and nobody need ever know about this ... this disagreement.”

  “This ain’t no disagreement, as you call it,” the young man shouted, still pointing the gun at Vaughn and Esmeralda. “This is my life, my family!”

  Esmeralda flung a long lock of blond hair over her shoulder and sneered at him. “Who’s to say she’s yours?” She smiled smugly as she stepped from behind her father. “You don’t think I stayed home alone all those nights you were working, do you?”

  His eyes widened with surprise. “Do you mean that Dave guy upstairs and you were lovers, not just friends?”

  She gave him a smile that let him know he was right.

  He cocked the gun. The clicking sound it made froze everyone in place. “That’s it. It’s all over, you little slut!”

  At the exact moment the gun was fired, Vaughn moved to protect his daughter. Pumping blood, he crumpled to the floor.

  Panicking, the young man fired another shot.

  Vaughn’s body jerked from the impact.

  “No!” I gasped as the camera focused on the blood oozing onto the floor.

  “Holy Shit!” Rhonda’s face turned white.

  “My God! He’s dead!” I gasped, facing her. “He’s dead!” Still in a state of shock, I turned back to the television. The scene had faded to a solid gray, but the image of Vaughn lying on the floor with a bullet through his heart played over and over in my mind.

  I laughed nervously through my tears and wiped my eyes with a tissue. “I know it’s just a show, but it seems so real!”

  “What does it mean?” Rhonda dabbed at tears of her own.

  “I don’t know. I really don’t know.” My voice trembled at the horror I’d witnessed.

  The theme music for the show played, ending the show.

  The phone rang. I got up to answer it on legs gone weak.

  “How did you like the show?” Vaughn asked.

  “Oh, Vaughn! I’m so glad to hear your voice. I know it’s just a television program, but I’m still shivering. It seemed so real. I would just die if anything happened to you. I wish I could put my arms around you, to know you’re alive and well.”

  “Great. I’ll hold you to it. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  My eyes widened. “Where are you?”

  Vaughn chuckled. “I’m at the airport. Tim is on his way over here to pick me up. See you soon!”

  “What does all this mean?” I asked. Hope burned brightly inside me, giving voice to my silent prayers.

  “It means one dead mayor needs some work. Got any ideas?”

  I couldn’t resist. “Some.”

  “There’s just one catch. I want room and board and all the privileges of my last stay. But this time, we’re going to make it official.”

  I let out the breath I’d been holding. Tears of happiness welled in my eyes. “Do you mean it? Hurry! I’ll be here, waiting for you out front.”

  I told Rhonda the news. She waved her fist triumphantly in the air. “Yes! I knew it!”

  Laughing and giggling, we raced each other to the hotel to wait for Vaughn’s arrival.

  Dorothy stood at the top of the front steps, waving frantically to us as we approached.

  “I’ve been searching all over for you!” she cried, looking as if she were about to burst with an excitement of her own. “Hurry! Come quickly! It’s a phone call from someone who says they’re calling for the mayor of New York. I don’t know if it’s a joke or not, but you’d better answer it.”

  Rhonda and I looked at each with widening eyes.

  “There’s only one way to find out. Beat you to it!”

  We rushed up the stairs and into the hotel, where Dorothy, having delivered her exciting message, sank down into a chair to catch her breath.

  Shrieking like schoolgirls, Rhonda and I hurried past her to the reception desk. Rhonda reached the phone first.

  “Hello? This is Rhonda DelMonte Grayson, one of the owners of The Beach House Hotel,” she managed to say between puffs of her breath. She looked over at me and winked. “It is the mayor’s office? Really? November 17th and 18th, you say? Just a moment, please, while I check the date.”

  Rhonda pressed the hold button and turned to me with a look of awe. “Annie! Annie! It’s the mayor’s personal secretary calling. The senator from California, who was with us over Labor Day, told him all about the hotel, and she’s calling to see if they can book the whole place for November 17th and 18th for a birthday party for him. She even asked about my cinnamon rolls for breakfast. Can you believe it?”

  My breath caught, even as my mind raced. The truth was, I could believe it after all that had happened to us. Our hotel had attracted people I’d only read about earlier. Now, I was on a speaking basis with a number of famous people and had discovered they were no better or worse than any of us. This call was another example of the magic we’d created.

  I hurried over to the computer to check the reservations schedule. Punching in the date, I waited for the data to pop up on the screen and then let out a disappointed sigh. “The Williams family has already booked and confirmed twenty-two rooms for that entire weekend. Their daughter is getting married right here on the property. It’s been on the books for a while now.”

  “But what do we say to the Mayor’s office?” Rhonda fluttered her hands in front of her, looking as if she was about to take flight.

  “We say the only thing we can, that we’re booked for those nights, but if they would like to make reservations some other time, we’d be most honored to have him stay with us.”

  Rhonda stared at me in disbelief, then slowly nodded. A look of pride crossed her face. “We’ve come a long way, baby!”

  I gave her a high-five. “You bet your ass!”

  Her jaw dropped. “Why, Annie Rutherford, I didn’t think I’d ever hear such words coming from your mouth!”

  I laughed, and she joined in. The joyful sound of it echoed merrily in the large, seaside estate we’d successfully turned into a hotel.

  We hugged. Many things had happened to me in the l
ast two years. My life had changed, I’d changed. The lonely, uncertain nights in Boston seemed a long time ago.

  At the sound of the limo pulling into the front circle, I hurried to the entrance of The Beach House Hotel. My pulse raced gleefully. My triumph at the hotel didn’t compare to the happiness I felt at the bond of love I’d formed with Vaughn.

  I grinned at the sight of him bounding up the stairs to greet me. The smile he gave me melted my heart. He swept me into his arms and pressed his lips on mine, and I knew our future together at The Beach House Hotel would be as bright as the sun that shone down on us.

  I hope you’ve enjoyed Ann and Rhonda’s story in Breakfast at The Beach House Hotel. My readers demanded more of their stories; Lunch at The Beach House Hotel and Dinner at The Beach House Hotel are now out as well. Also, as a special holiday gift for my readers, Christmas at The Beach House Hotel is being released in October 2017. If you enjoyed this book, please help other readers discover it by leaving a review on Goodreads or your favorite site. It’s such a nice thing to do for any author.

  Enjoy an excerpt from my book, Lunch at The Beach House Hotel (Book 2 in The Beach House Hotel Series).

  CHAPTER ONE

  I’d just stepped out of the shower when my business partner, Rhonda—Rhonda DelMonte Grayson, as she proudly called herself—phoned in a tizzy.

  “Annie, you’ve got to get over here right away. Something’s come up.”

  She hung up before I could ask her about it, but I knew I’d better get moving. In the hotel business, there were a lot of “somethings”—some good, some bad.

  My mind whirled with possibilities as I quickly dried off and dressed. After brushing my hair and dabbing on some lipstick, I took a moment to put on the chain and pendant Vaughn Sanders had given me. He wouldn’t return from filming for another six weeks, and I missed him like crazy. The gold pendant spoke of so many things. His initial V formed one side of my A. Across the middle of it was a bar with five diamonds—a symbol of us, our collective three children, and the hope that we’d all share a life together.

  I left my house on the hotel property and headed toward the hotel. Warm air wrapped around me, caressing my skin in silky strokes, and I joyfully inhaled the tang of the salty air. After living most of my life in Boston, I relished the tropical setting along the Gulf Coast of Southwest Florida.

  As I approached the front of The Beach House Hotel, I paused to stare at the beachside estate Rhonda and I had turned into a small, upscale hotel. The pale-pink-stucco, two-story building spread before me at the water’s edge like a palace, regal and splendid. Wide steps led to carved-wood, double doors that invited guests inside. Potted palms sat on either side of the doorway, adding a tropical elegance to the entry. Along the front of the hotel, brilliant pink hibiscus blossoms vied for attention with bougainvillea and other colorful plantings and softened the lines of the building.

  Gratitude filled me.

  In the troubling days following my ex’s dumping me for his receptionist—Kandie with a K as she called herself—I would never have imagined being part owner of such a beautiful place. We’d started out better than expected, but the fear of failing kept me working day and night to make sure the hotel succeeded. So many didn’t. And though I loved Rhonda, it was sometimes frustrating to be left with most of the detailed, follow-up work she disliked. Doing it as cheerfully as I could while she stayed busy doing the most-fun stuff was a way to pay her back for all she’d done to help me.

  Rhonda appeared at the top of the stairway. Dressed in one of the light-weight, colorful caftans she loved to wear, she urged me forward, flapping the green sleeves of her dress like a tropical bird about to take flight. Or more like the early bird who got the worm, I thought wryly, as I got a closer look at the grin on her face.

  She placed her hands on her ample hips and shook her head at me. “Annie Rutherford, how can you look so freakin’ beautiful and put together at this early hour? I swear, if you weren’t my best friend, I’d hate your guts.”

  I laughed. Rhonda was known for speaking her mind. It was amazing we even got along—we were as different as two people could be. My strict grandmother, who’d raised me after my parents died, would shiver in her blue-blooded Boston grave at the language Rhonda used. I’d gotten used to it, which was a good thing because Rhonda didn’t even notice it. She’d come from a loud, Italian family in New Jersey.

  “What’s up?” I asked. “It better be good. I haven’t even had my coffee yet.”

  “Oh, it’s good all right. We have a decision to make—an important one that can’t wait.”

  “And?” I prompted, giving Rhonda a dubious look.

  “And I promised Valentina Marquis’ agent we’d call her right back. She’s at LAX, ready to put Valentina on a private jet to us.”

  “Oh, no!” My heart thudded with dismay. “Are you talking about the same Valentina Marquis who co-starred with Vaughn in that awful short film, the one he tried to get out of several times?”

  Rhonda nodded. “The very same one. But, Annie, this could mean a lot of business for us.”

  As usual, talk of new business stopped me cold. Overseeing the finances of the hotel consumed me. At best, the hotel business was a series of ups and downs, fluctuating as bookings rose and fell. At worst, I had invested every cent of mine into my share of the business. Weather, dates of holidays, and fierce competition affected bookings for rooms reservations, which created a lot of uncertainty.

  “Okay, you’d better tell me about it. Why does Valentina’s agent want her to come here?”

  An even bigger grin spread across Rhonda’s face. Beneath her bleached-blond hair, her dark eyes sparkled with mischief. “You won’t believe it! She’s going to be shooting a movie in two months and has eight weeks to lose twenty-five pounds.”

  I frowned. “How’s Valentina going to do that here? We’re known for our delicious cuisine.”

  “The agent has requested us to provide a trainer to stay with Valentina, to keep an eye on her, and to guide her physical training. Because our guests know that The Beach House Hotel assures them total privacy, she figures the director and producer won’t find out what shape Valentina is in before she loses the weight. Cool, huh?”

  “I’m not sure.” Vaughn, sweet guy that he is, had ranted and raved about Valentina’s prima donna attitude on the movie set. He’d declared her self-absorption and treatment of the people around her deplorable.

  “It could be a bit tricky,” admitted Rhonda, “but it’s been a really slow fall season for us.”

  I couldn’t deny it. In the past, we’d had a lot of VIP guests from the world of politics, but, with the latest mess in Washington, they’d been forced to stay put. Not that I minded all that much. The politicians were as egotistical as any movie star.

  “Okay, let’s call her back,” I said reluctantly. Her visit could boost our cash flow, and who couldn’t use a better bottom line?

  On the way to our office, which sat behind the kitchen, I stopped and grabbed a cup of coffee along with one of Rhonda’s famous breakfast rolls. Sweet and buttery, filled with cinnamon and nuts, their enticing aroma filled the air. These breakfast rolls had been instrumental in promoting the culinary reputation of the hotel since we opened it a little over a year ago.

  After sipping my refreshing hot coffee, I carried it and the roll into the office and sat at my desk. A sigh of pleasure escaped me as I bit into the soft, warm breakfast sweet.

  Seated opposite me, Rhonda dialed the number the agent had given her . I listened carefully as she informed Valentina’s agent that we’d be delighted to have Valentina stay with us.

  Rhonda stopped talking and then said, “Please hold. I’ll check to see if we can make those arrangements.” She turned to me. “Is it okay if I offer her the lower rooms at the far end of the hotel? If we give her rooms #101 and #102, Valentina will have the privacy her agent says she needs.”

  I quickly checked our online reservations system. “How lon
g does Valentina’s agent want her to use the rooms?”

  “They want ’em for the full eight weeks, starting today. That takes us up to the Thanksgiving weekend.”

  I quickly looked at the reservations list. “We’ll have to move a few people around, but we can do it.” There were no full-house, wedding weekends planned during that time. Only smaller groups.

  After she assured Valentina’s agent she’d take care of everything, Rhonda hung up with a sigh. “It sounds as if this situation hasn’t been easy for anybody. Valentina is getting on a plane within the next moment or two. We’re to hire a personal trainer and meet her at the airport. She’ll be traveling under the name Tina Marks, which I understand is her real name. And that’s not all. I’ve agreed not only to provide special meals for her but to keep her out of the spotlight, so no one even guesses she’s here.”

  “Okay, that’s settled then,” I said, suddenly overcome by the horrible feeling that this might be one of the biggest mistakes Rhonda and I had ever made together. And there’d been a few.

  ###

  Tim McFarland, our young assistant manager, agreed to pick up Jerry Brighton, the personal trainer we’d hired through an agency, and to drive him in the limo to the airport to pick up Tina.

  Rhonda and I stayed at the hotel to discuss the details of Tina’s upcoming stay. Then I began my daily ritual of reviewing revenue reports, staffing schedules, and reservations to update my forecast. The sales weren’t as strong as I’d hoped, emphasizing how important Tina’s stay was to us. I resolved to make her visit go well. In addition to paying for the rooms, her agent was paying a hefty price for the hotel to cook special, low-calorie meals for Tina and her trainer.

  ###

  I’d finished making some financial projections when Tim called from the limo to say he was approaching the hotel with our guest. As part of our normal routine, Rhonda and I went to the front stairway to greet them. From the hotel’s beginning, it was something we’d done as often as we could. Our guests liked it.

  Rhonda and I were standing by the front door in our usual stations when Tim pulled the limo into the front circle.