by Judith Keim
“I thought Vaughn would go for someone like me,” Tina admitted, “but he apparently likes much older women.”
I gritted my teeth and let the remark go, though Tina once more had proved she was the brat everyone thought she was.
After showering and dressing for the day, I headed to the hotel. Brenda Bolinder, the travel consultant who’d arranged for Vaughn’s former soap opera, The Sins of the Children, to be filmed at the hotel, was due to arrive that morning. She wanted to speak to us about another idea. I couldn’t wait to meet with her.
When I walked into the lobby, Tim was busy with a couple from Australia, who were checking out.
“I hope you enjoyed your visit,” I said, shaking hands with them. “It’s always a pleasure to have guests from afar visit The Beach House Hotel.”
“It was lovely, simply lovely,” the woman said. “Can’t wait to tell my friends about it. Such a relief to be away from Orlando’s Mickey Mouse.”
I laughed. “Even Mickey would be welcome here if he behaved well enough.”
She chuckled, and I left Tim to complete his work.
Consuela looked up at me and smiled when I entered the kitchen. “Tina ate her breakfast this morning. What did you do to her?”
“Took her for a walk on the beach. Once we learn to trust her, she can do more things incognito. You’d think she’d understand that.”
Consuela nodded. “Rhonda’s in the office, but she’s not feeling so good.”
I went to check on her.
“Are you all right?” I asked Rhonda, swinging into the room.
She nodded. “I’m feeling blah. That’s all.”
“Any word from Brenda?”
“Yeah. She called to say she’s coming from Miami. She’ll be here in a couple of hours.” A smile spread across Rhonda’s face. “I’ve got a feeling things are going to look up, Annie.”
“It would be nice if Brenda’s visit brought another windfall to us. I wonder what could be so important that she needs to see us right away,” I said, taking a seat at my desk.
“Maybe it’s another film,” said Rhonda, rubbing her hands together with glee. “That would help us.”
A while later, when we got a call from Brenda saying she was in town and approaching the hotel, Rhonda and I went outside to greet her.
Brenda’s white limousine pulled up to the front of the hotel.
Excitement filled me as I watched a tall, regal-looking woman emerge from the limo and stand before us. Deep-red hair was pulled back away from her face and tied in a knot behind her head, exposing huge but tasteful diamonds in her ear lobes.
Dressed in a light-turquoise sheath that brought out the green in her eyes, Brenda moved toward us easily, a woman who was comfortable meeting with clients of all backgrounds.
“Welcome to The Beach House Hotel,” said Rhonda, approaching her and giving her a boisterous hug.
“Yes, we’re so glad to see you again,” I added, embracing her.
Brenda beamed at us. “It’s good to see you both too. I can’t tell you how many people I’ve told about the two of you and your fabulous hotel.”
Optimism curled inside me. Maybe Rhonda was right. Maybe this visit would bring us a lot more business.
“Come inside,” I said eagerly. “We thought we’d have lunch in the Presidential Suite where we can talk privately.”
Brenda’s face brightened. “That sounds lovely.”
We led her inside and up to what had been Rhonda’s private living quarters. After marrying Will, she’d moved into his oversized home where they could have more privacy. It turned out to be a good move in more ways than one. Renting out her old space as the Presidential Suite brought in a lot of revenue, and occasionally offering it on a complimentary basis helped to attract small, executive groups to the hotel.
As we entered the main room of the large suite, pale-blue walls greeted us. Their blue color duplicated some of the hues in the assorted fabrics on the overstuffed furniture and in the drapes. The blue and magenta accent colors in the plush, cream Oriental rug echoed the various shades of the Gulf’s blue water and the bougainvillea displayed colorfully outside the window. In the middle of the room, a crystal chandelier winked cheerfully in the bright sunlight shining through tall windows.
“This is beautiful,” said Brenda. “As I recall, you didn’t have this suite operational when I stayed here before.”
“Nope, we converted it after I got married and moved out,” Rhonda said proudly.
“Oh, how nice!” said Brenda. “I thought I saw a wedding band on your hand, Rhonda. I’m so happy for you!”
“Will is the nicest guy. Wait until you meet him,” I said sincerely. Will was not only my friend but my financial advisor. I loved him like a brother.
“That’s so nice to hear.” Brenda smiled. “I look forward to meeting him.”
Maria, Consuela’s daughter, delivered a tray to the suite. Instead of our sitting at the large conference table inside the suite, she set up our lunches at the round, glass-topped table on the spacious balcony that overlooked the gardens in the side yard.
“Mmmm, so peaceful,” murmured Brenda, taking a seat at the table.
Plates laden with chicken salad, sliced tomatoes, and frosty, green grapes, all atop a bed of fresh red-leaf lettuce and arugula, sat at each place, along with a tall glass of Consuela’s special berry iced tea. A loaf of warm, sliced French bread with a ramekin of whipped honey butter complemented the meal.
Rhonda fidgeted in her seat, as anxious as I to know the purpose of our meeting.
After taking the last bite of her chicken salad, Brenda dabbed at her mouth with her damask napkin and smiled at us. “Delicious. Thank you.”
“Okay, I can’t wait any longer. Why are you here?” Rhonda leaned her elbows on the table and stared at Brenda. Patience was definitely not one of Rhonda’s virtues.
Brenda laughed. “Oh, my! Sorry. I was caught up in the relaxing atmosphere and fabulous food here, but I should’ve known how curious you’d be.”
She leaned back in her chair, studied Rhonda and turned to me. “How would the two of you like to host a very special wedding?”
Rhonda sat up in her chair. “A wedding? Whose?”
“For the moment, that has to remain a secret. Let’s just say royalty is involved.”
Rhonda’s smile was as big as the one I felt spreading across my face.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Having the wedding here at The Beach House Hotel is one of three choices I will be offering the bride’s family,” continued Brenda. “Let’s take a tour of the property. You’ve obviously made some changes since the soap opera was filmed here.” She turned to me. “I understand you and Vaughn are still going strong.”
My hand crept to the pendant I wore around my neck. I nodded happily.
Smiling, Brenda squeezed my hand. “I’m so glad. He’s such a nice guy. We were neighbors in New York. We even considered dating, but after he had met you, I knew he and I weren’t going to get together.”
I stared at her with surprise. “You did?”
She nodded. “When he told me who he was dating, I thought you were perfect. Besides, my kind of life wouldn’t mesh with his. Not really. And as it happens, it’s all turned out for the best. That’s how I got the job of finding a place for this wedding.”
“You know the family?” Rhonda asked.
Pink crept into Brenda’s cheeks. She nodded. “Quite well.”
Intrigued, I got to my feet. “Let’s start the tour here. We’ve used the Presidential Suite for weddings, both for the bridal party and as a honeymoon suite.”
I led Brenda into the huge master bedroom. In addition to most features in all of our rooms, it had a nice sitting area that looked out over the beach below and beyond to the Gulf of Mexico. A small, private balcony facing the water was a favorite place to sit and watch the famous sunsets along Florida’s western shoreline.
“How about the master bath?” asked
Brenda, taking notes.
The marble floor and walls of the bathroom offset a large spa tub. Its brass fixtures in the shape of a dolphin and those in the two individual sinks were highly polished. The oversized shower had six large shower heads and was plenty big enough for two.
“This is a great playground for newlyweds,” said Rhonda. Her cheeks turned a bright red.
“Guess you and Will liked it, huh?” I said.
“Aw, Annie, you know I can’t keep anything to myself,” said Rhonda, giving me a playful push.
Brenda smiled. “I like the whole set-up here in the suite. What else do you have to show me?”
“Come on outside,” I said.
“Yeah,” said Rhonda. “We didn’t get permission to put up the little, open, grass-roofed, bohio-style shelter we wanted to place on the beach. But we did get permission to build a wooden deck under the palm trees where we can serve lunch in the shade to our guests.”
“Lunch and cocktails,” I amended. “Though most cocktail parties take place around the pool, the wooden deck is the perfect place to watch sunsets.”
“Sounds good,” said Brenda. “Let’s take a look at that and anything else you think I should see.”
After showing her the deck and then the spa, we went inside to the conference room and the private dining room we used for our VIP guests.
“Thanks for the tour,” Brenda said. “If you don’t mind, I’m going up to my room to rest for a bit.”
“Of course. When you come down, we can have a glass of wine.”
I checked my watch and smiled at Brenda. “I think we have time. Come with me.”
We walked outside to the new deck. The sky was awash with pink.
“If guests don’t want to get dressed for dinner, they sometimes come here to watch the sunsets.” I turned to Brenda. “Have you ever seen the green flash?”
“Green flash?” She grinned. “What’s that?”
“They say if the atmosphere is right, you can see a bright-green flash at the moment the sun dips beneath the horizon. I’ve never seen it, but I never get tired of looking for it.”
“It’s become sort of a contest among our guests to see who can spot it,” said Rhonda. “I swear I’ve seen it. It comes and goes so quickly you can’t be sure.”
“Hmmm, interesting,” said Brenda. “Maybe I can use that in promoting the place.”
We watched and waited. The golden orb of the sun dipped lower and lower. As it slid below the horizon, I groaned. “We missed it.”
She turned to me with a smile. “It was fun to watch for it anyway. Say, how would you feel if we offered your house to the bride’s family for the wedding weekend?”
I hesitated. I had grown up in my grandmother’s house in Boston, which she had filled with antiques and priceless objects. I’d gotten rid of most of them as they’d become a burden. But I’d carefully chosen a few of them for the house I’d never dreamed of owning.
“Maybe that’s a bad idea,” said Brenda, seeing my hesitation.
“No, it’s a fine idea.” It was silly to be made a prisoner of material things.
“I’m thinking of the privacy aspect,” Brenda assured me. “If they go for it, they might want to book all of the rooms at the hotel for their wedding party. Is that possible?”
“For what dates?” Rhonda said.
“I’d have to confirm, but they’re thinking of early January,” came Brenda’s reply. “It’s a hush-hush wedding under private circumstances. I know that doesn’t give you much time, with Thanksgiving and Christmas coming up soon.”
Rhonda and I exchanged worried glances.
“We’ll work around them and make it happen,” I said, unwilling to lose out on the possibility of business like this.
“Jean-Luc and I can handle the wedding meals,” said Rhonda. “The hotel has become known for its outstanding food.”
“That would be wonderful for the wedding day. The rehearsal dinner is something they might want to do off property. I thought I’d go look at a few places in town.”
We gave Brenda a send-off with a list of the two or three best restaurants. Then Rhonda and I raced into the office.
“Royalty?” squealed Rhonda. “Can you imagine it, Annie?” She rubbed her hands together. “I’m going to do a little research online to see if I can find out any information about royal engagements.”
“I’ll check on our little princess here to see how the rest of the day went with her. We don’t want Jerry to quit because of Tina’s antics. Especially now. We’re going to be busy if we want to have everything done in time for a holiday wedding.”
“A holiday royal wedding,” Rhonda amended, grinning.
Jerry answered the door to Tina’s suite. Holding a finger to his lips, he led me inside. Tina was settled in front of the television watching movies.
She ignored us as we made our way through the suite, outside to the patio.
“How’s it going?’ I asked Jerry.
He shrugged. “We’re still waiting for some exercise equipment to be delivered. Tina can do sit-ups and other stuff without it, but she says she’ll do better on the equipment.”
“Are you getting more rest?” Jerry looked terrible.
He shrugged again.
“I’d better go. I’ll check on the training equipment for you.”
I left him and headed back to the hotel lobby along the beachside lawn, stopping to greet a couple of our guests lounging by the pool.
One of them, a frequent guest from New York, waved me over. “Who’s in that suite you came out of? Whoever she is, she’s smoking like a fiend. I thought this was a non-smoking operation, that any smokers had to use the specially designated areas.”
“Yes, those are the standard procedures. I’ll check on that for you,” I said smoothly, irritated that Tina had once more disobeyed the rules. Rhonda had told me she’d spoken to Tina and Jerry about smoking in the room or on the patio.
The woman’s husband, sitting next to her, shook his head. “I’m allergic to cigarette smoke.” His look of disapproval was penetrating.
My stomach clenched. These were good, repeat customers. “We’ll take care of it,” I quickly said, though inwardly I wondered how to make someone like Tina follow our rules. If the situation were different, I’d ask her to leave. We couldn’t lose the goodwill of valued guests, but we also couldn’t turn away good business even if it meant dealing with someone as selfish and spoiled as Tina.
Mumbling under my breath, I trudged back to Tina’s suite.
Standing on the patio outside her room, I tapped on the sliding door. Tina got up from the couch and strolled over to me. At the smirk on her face, I drew in a breath and told myself to be patient.
“Yeah? What do you want?”
“May I come in?” I asked nicely.
She opened the door and shrugged. “Okay.”
Jerry appeared from his connecting room and gave me a questioning look.
“One of our very strict rules is no smoking on the premises except in special areas we’ve set up by the garage and at the back of the garden. It’s important to the health of some of our guests. I understand Tina has been smoking on the patio and I can certainly smell cigarette smoke here inside this room. Please, don’t let it happen again.”
“More fucking rules? That’s it! I’m leaving!” cried Tina, shaking a finger at me.
Suddenly, it was too much. “Okay, we’ll call your agent and tell her it’s not working out. Tim can help you make arrangements to get to the airport.”
I turned to leave.
A hand met my shoulder. “Wait! You can’t do that. You have to keep me here.” Unexpected moisture coated Tina’s eyes.
“It’s too late,” I said, telling myself to be firm. “It would’ve been good if this had worked out, but the situation has become impossible. You’re not cooperating. Do you have any idea how much work it’s going to take to get this suite back to our standards of clean and fresh? It will take a
deep cleaning of all surfaces. It might even mean replacing the carpet, and reupholstering or replacing the furniture, along with the other soft goods.”
Tina looked around the room. “I don’t see anything wrong with it. The maid can clean it up. I’m not going to.”
I bit back an angry response. This discussion was going nowhere. “It’s not working out for us. Good-bye, Tina.”
“How about one more chance?” said Tina, surprising me.
I took several deep breaths, wishing we didn’t need the business. But we did. I drew a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Okay. But that’s it. Just one more chance or out you go. Period.”
Tina walked out of the room.
As I told Rhonda later, I had no idea if Tina would obey the rules, but I was at my breaking point with her.
Rhonda often worked in the kitchen with Jean-Luc, preparing dinner meals. In the evenings, I hosted both guests and local residents for meetings and private dinners. The Beach House Hotel served as an upscale, discreet place where people could meet and dine in a setting that anyone would appreciate. These special gatherings were a nice financial boost for us.
I mingled with tonight’s private-function guests, making an effort to remember names as I talked individually with them, ensuring they were comfortable.
When it was announced that dinner was about to be served, I led them to the small, private dining room, where Jean-Luc’s wife, Sabine, was waiting to supervise the two servers attending them. Everyone on staff knew the danger of letting Jean-Luc’s hot food grow cold.
After making sure that all was in order, I went to check on the main dining room.
The happy chatter of dinner guests greeted me. Dining at the hotel had become well-known not only for lunches but for dinners too. Jean-Luc had come from Chat L’orange, a well-known restaurant in Boston, but he’d decided total retirement in Florida wasn’t for him. Here at the hotel, he loved creating innovative dinners that most of our guests adored. The ones who complained about the food earned a private puff of disgust from him.
