Lunch at the Beach House Hotel

by Judith Keim

  Tina looked away from me and kicked at the sand with a bare foot.

  “Well?”

  “He must have seen me trying to get Jerry to find me some real food. I was fooling around with him. That’s all.”

  My mind raced, but I remained quiet as I moved along the beach. Vaughn had once mentioned to me that Tina seemed more than willing to use her body to get her way. Now that I’d seen the way she was with Brock, a sick feeling came over me.

  Tina glanced over at me. “So ... what? You think I’m bad or something?”

  “Something.”

  Tina came to a stop and glared at me. “You don’t know what it’s like getting roles in movies and dealing with the Hollywood scene,” she snarled at me. “You’re just a ... a stupid loser. So leave me the fuck alone!”

  A gasp of dismay left my throat as she ran ahead.

  I took my time catching up with her. Beside me, the slap of the waves meeting the shore and retreating in a steady pattern soothed me. Tina was more than a “wild child,” she was a mess. A part of me wanted her to pack her bags and leave us alone. Another part of me wanted to try to draw her into a hug again, and I wasn’t sure why.

  After seeing Tina back to her room and preparing for the day, I headed to the hotel. Consuela and Tim were scheduled to be on duty. Having them live on the premises was a blessing for us, but we were careful not to take advantage of them. Though Rhonda or I were on duty every day and most evenings, we were adding staff as we needed them. We’d hired Dave Reynolds, recently retired from the corporate world, to take the night shift, acting as a front desk clerk and night auditor. Newly widowed, he was glad for the opportunity to keep busy during what he called the loneliest hours of any day.

  When I entered the hotel, Tim waved me over . “The guests in #203 want to extend their stay through the weekend. Can we do it?”

  “Let me check, and I’ll get back to you.”

  I went into the office to go over our reservations and found Rhonda sitting in her chair, resting her head on her desk. At my appearance she lifted her head; her face was noticeably pale.

  Alarm raced through my body. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Rhonda was a healthy woman.

  “Rhonda, what is it?”

  She shook her head. “I ... I ... don’t know.”

  I placed a hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t like you at all. I’m worried. I want you to call the doctor right now. I’ll wait right here until you do.”

  “Okay.”

  My stomach clenched. She’d agreed too easily.

  I took a seat at my desk and listened as Rhonda explained to the person on the other end of the call that she’d been feeling sick for some time. And tired. And not like herself.

  She hung up and turned to me. “I can see Dr. Benson at eleven o’clock today.”

  “Good. I’m glad.” Relief seeped into my voice. “I need to check reservations. The Brauns in #203 want to extend their stay over the weekend.”

  “They’re the people from Chicago, right?” said Rhonda. “Friends of Jack and Lily Russell?”

  “Yes, and we promised Jack to take good care of them. They’re important clients of his.” Jack Russell was a figure well-known in Chicago legal circles for handling a number of sensitive political issues.

  After looking at the reservations chart, I drew a breath. “We’re booked because of the golf tournament in town. But why don’t we go ahead and let them stay? If we don’t have any cancellations, we’ll put someone in the Presidential Suite.”

  “Okay,” Rhonda said instantly, “we’ll take a chance and do it.”

  Keeping the hotel full was a tricky business. We didn’t want to overbook rooms and have to “walk” people to another property. On the other hand, when people canceled reservations at the last minute, we were stuck with an empty room, and even with our deposit policy, we lost out.

  Hours passed in the office without our usual chatter and banter. Unspoken concern hovered in the air. I noticed Rhonda staring at the clock on the wall.

  “Do you want me to drive you to the doctor’s office?” I asked her.

  A look of relief crossed her face. “Will you?”

  My heart rate took a dive. Rhonda was usually very independent, not this worried bundle of nerves. Maybe, I thought with dread, she sensed something was terribly wrong with her.

  I informed Tim we were going, and then Rhonda and I left the hotel. “Why don’t you stay here at the front of the hotel? I’ll drive my car around and pick you up.”

  Again, Rhonda nodded, eager to comply.

  I all but flew across the lawn to my house and quickly got into my car. Driving up to the front circle of the hotel, I watched Rhonda make her way toward my car. Her expression was unusually grave.

  I waited patiently while she climbed in the car and got settled. Then I took off. My mind whirled at what this doctor’s visit might mean—to her, to us, to the hotel.

  “Will you come inside with me?” Rhonda asked when I pulled into the medical building’s parking lot.

  My stomach filled with acid. “Sure.”

  Inside the doctor’s office, the receptionist greeted us with a wide smile. “Hi, Ms. Rutherford! Thank you so much for inviting my boyfriend and me to come to the hotel for lunch. It was delicious. We definitely want to have our wedding reception there.”

  I smiled. “When you’re ready, call the hotel, and if Rhonda and I aren’t there, Sabine will be glad to help you. She does a wonderful job with weddings.”

  She beamed at me and turned to Rhonda.

  “Dr. Benson can see you now, Mrs. Grayson.”

  Rhonda drew a deep breath and gave me a weak smile. “I’ll be out as soon as I can.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll wait right here for you.” Nothing would make me leave until I knew she was going to be okay.

  While I leafed through one boring magazine after another, several minutes passed. I sat in the waiting room becoming more and more concerned.

  The receptionist’s voice startled me from my fog of worry. “Ms. Rutherford? Mrs. Grayson would like you to come on back.”

  I jumped to my feet. “Is everything all right?”

  The receptionist’s expression gave nothing away. She simply indicated the door leading to the back of the office.

  My feet felt leaden as I made my way down the hall past examination rooms.

  At the end of the hallway, the door to the doctor’s office was partially open. My heart stuttered to a stop when I saw Rhonda crying.

  I rushed forward. “Rhonda, what is it?”

  She shook her head. “Annie, you won’t believe it! It can’t be happening to me.”

  “Oh my God! What is it?”

  She swiped at her eyes, and when she looked up at me, her lips curved into a tremulous smile. “I’m almost three months pregnant.”

  I was so stunned I couldn’t think of anything to say for a moment. “Oh, but that’s wonderful!” Throwing my arms around Rhonda, I hugged her tight.

  Rhonda shook her head. “I can’t believe it. Will told me he couldn’t have children. What am I going to do? I’m forty-two, and he’s fifty-two.”

  “What are you going to do? You’re going to have a baby,” I said, tearing up as relief mixed with joy.

  Rhonda’s eyes filled. “I’m so happy, so scared.”

  “What did Dr. Benson say?”

  A tiny Asian woman approached us, smiling. Ruth Benson, the primary care doctor Rhonda and I both used, was a woman in her fifties who was as smart as she was small. Tiny and efficient, she homed in on symptoms like a bullet to a target, no muss, no fuss. As tough as she was on facts, she was as gentle a soul as one could have when dealing with difficult situations.

  The doctor approached, smiling. “Dr. Benson says Rhonda’s in good health and should do fine. We’ll run our regular tests to make sure, but everything looks fine.”

  Rhonda’s eyes shone. “Will is going to be so happy. He’s always regretted not having
children.” Her smile wavered. “Oh no! What will Angela say when she finds out?”

  “She’ll be happy for you, I’m sure.” Angela was a great girl who loved her mother.

  “I’m so relieved,” said Rhonda. “I was sure I had some terrible disease. I don’t remember feeling like this with Angela.” A look of wonder crossed her face. “Maybe it’ll be a boy. A boy for Will.”

  Dr. Benson gave Rhonda a list of instructions and other paperwork, and then we left the office.

  “Will you drop me off at Will’s office?” Rhonda asked me. “I can’t wait to tell him the news.”

  I grinned. “Sure. I imagine he’ll be thrilled.”

  “What if he isn’t?” Rhonda’s brow wrinkled with worry.

  My smile was confident. “He will be. Trust me.”

  Rhonda returned to the hotel later that day and pulled me into the office.

  “How did it go?” I asked.

  She patted a hand on her chest, fighting emotion. “It was one of the sweetest things ever. Annie, he broke down and cried for joy. Like me, he’s totally surprised and so very proud and happy. And then he wanted me to sit down and take it easy. He said he’s going to take good care of me ... of the baby and me. I told him I’ll be fine after I get over being sick.”

  “He’s a very sweet man,” I said, meaning it. “And he’s going to make a wonderful father.”

  “He wants me to work fewer hours at the hotel. I told him it wasn’t fair to you, but he’s not happy with me working late at night.”

  I wasn’t surprised. “We’ll add some hours to Dorothy’s schedule during the afternoon to give you time to rest, and we’ll have Sabine come in every evening instead of part-time. With Jean-Luc working here, I’m sure she won’t mind.”

  “But it’s not fair to you,” said Rhonda.

  “One day at a time, remember?” I could never repay Rhonda for what she’d done for me, and if her being pregnant meant extra work for me, I’d gladly do it.

  Rhonda pulled me into a hug. “How did I ever get so lucky? Having you for my best friend is better than winning the lottery.”

  I laughed. We both knew it wasn’t true. If she hadn’t won the lottery, there’d never be The Beach House Hotel. Baby or not, I’d make sure to do the best I could to continue to make our hotel a success. I wouldn’t; I couldn’t fail.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  As I stood in the bathroom after taking a shower, I stared at my body. Though I was a couple of years younger than Rhonda, I couldn’t imagine bearing another baby. It wasn’t a possibility because I’d had a hysterectomy, but the reality of its happening to her sent a frisson of worry through me. Would age make a difference to her and her baby? Would her having a baby destroy our ability to run a hotel as a team? And if so, how could I keep it going by myself?

  I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glass shower door. Blue eyes stared back at me critically. At five-three, and with my shoulder-length black hair hanging straight, I didn’t look close to forty, though the big four-oh would happen within the year. But the energy I had was more important than age and was brought about by my determination to make the hotel succeed. Losing Rhonda to motherhood even for a short time would be a challenge, but somehow I’d make it work, though the thought of adding to my workload was depressing.

  Calmer thoughts prevailed as I dried off. I told myself Rhonda could continue to do a lot of work for the hotel, and after the baby was born, she’d no doubt find a good nanny to help her. Dorothy Stern would be delighted to spend more time in the office taking Rhonda’s place when necessary.

  Thinking of Dorothy, my lips curved. She was a woman in her sixties, quick-witted and newly retired from a retail business she’d owned. Bright-eyed, even as she peered at the world through the thick lenses of her glasses, she observed things that needed to be done and saw people as they really were. I treasured her. Other members of the staff had proved to be loyal and hardworking as well. We’d all have to pull together.

  More confident now, I settled down in bed to read a book from one of my favorite authors. A light-hearted, easy read was exactly what I needed, and having time to do this was a real treat for me.

  My eyes were beginning to droop when the phone rang.

  I picked it up, and seeing who it was, I smiled happily. Liz.

  “Hi, honey? What’s up?” I asked, pleased to be able to connect finally.

  “Not much. With me anyway. Angela was here in DC with her boyfriend, and we hung out for a while.”

  I perked up. “What boyfriend is this?”

  “A guy she met at summer camp. He was a financial consultant to the owners of the camp for several weeks while we were there.”

  “Oh, nice.” I waited to hear more, but Liz was uncharacteristically quiet. I knew something else must be on her mind and waited for her to speak.

  “I’ve been thinking I might want to go back to college next semester. I tried talking to Dad about it, but he said the two of you would have to work it out. Will you call him, Mom?”

  I gritted my teeth. As part of the divorce settlement, we had set aside a fund for Liz’s college education. But in true-Robert fashion, he’d wiggled around the rules and used it to build a fancy house for Kandie and himself—a house he’d subsequently been forced to sell under threat of foreclosure. My lawyer had worked out an agreement with him, but it still stung.

  “Mom?”

  Still fighting the old anger I felt toward him, I relented. “Okay, Liz, I’ll do it. What brought about this change? You insisted you needed time off from school.”

  “Yeah, well unless you have a college education, you can’t find a decent job. Nell helped me get a low-level job in a PR firm, but it doesn’t pay much. I want something better than that. Now I want to get a marketing degree.”

  My lips curved. Building that kind of determination to succeed was worth her taking a semester off from school.

  “I’ve applied for a scholarship at the school, but it won’t cover all the costs. The dean said there’d be no problem in my getting back in.”

  “All right. Let’s see what we can do.” Only for my daughter would I be in touch with my ex. I was in no position to pay Liz’s tuition myself, and I didn’t want her loaded down with unnecessary student loans.

  “Thanks, Mom! You okay? Anything new with you and Vaughn?”

  “I’m fine and so is Vaughn. Nothing new.” I bit back any words about Rhonda’s baby because I didn’t know if Rhonda had talked to Angela yet.

  “Okay, talk to you later. Love you.”

  “Love you too.” I clicked off the call with a sigh. I’d tried to talk Liz into staying at BU, but she’d insisted she needed time off and a break from Boston. It would’ve been so much easier if she’d stayed in school.

  Turning off the light, I realized sleep would not come easily. Robert and I weren’t good at talking anymore. In truth, we probably never had been very good at it. And now conversations between us turned cruel.

  The next morning, after my walk with Tina, I hurried to get ready for work. When I entered the hotel, I checked in with Dave Reynolds and Tim, who were making the transition from night shift to the day shift.

  “A cold snap has hit New England,” Tim said giving me a wide smile.

  We exchanged looks of satisfaction. With people facing the reality of wintertime approaching, more reservations were coming in. But it also meant we were running out of time to learn if we’d be hosting the royal wedding.

  In the office, Rhonda was poring over our brochures. “I’ve thought we should play up our spa. Especially if we hire a new masseur.”

  “Good idea. We can put together spa packages. Lunch at The Beach House Hotel could include a low-calorie luncheon and afternoon session at the spa.”

  “Yes! Girlfriends can come together here.” She gave me an impish grin. “Or it could be a romantic time for couples.”

  I laughed. Ever since marrying Will, Rhonda’s focus had been on their love life. In someone e
lse, it would be uncouth. With Rhonda and Will, it was endearing.

  A few minutes later, the owner of Tropical Spa Equipment and Supplies arrived with a handsome young man. After exchanging greetings with us, Bruce Taylor introduced his son, Troy.

  “I’m interested in applying for the job of manager as well as becoming one of the masseurs,” said Troy.

  I studied him. Tall and broad-shouldered, he looked like he could handle clients of any size. He had dark hair and light blue eyes that shone with kindness. Troy held out a hand.

  I shook it eagerly. “That is something we definitely can talk about.” With Rhonda contributing less time to running the hotel, it would be great not to have to worry as much about the daily operation of the spa.

  I turned to Troy. “Tell us a bit about yourself and what experience you’ve had running a spa.”

  Troy grinned boyishly. “Well, since my dad runs a spa-related business, I got interested in them as a young kid. I trained to be a physical therapist but decided, instead, to get my certificate in massage therapy. The cost of schooling was an issue. Through my dad, I’ve been able to build a good client list.”

  “You’ve actually never run a spa?”

  He shook his head. “But I’ve got a lot of good ideas, loyal customers, and can make this small operation work. I know I can because I helped a friend do it.”

  I blinked in surprise. This quiet-spoken young man was smart and confident. I liked him.

  “Okay, put together some of your ideas for Rhonda and me, and we’ll talk.”

  “And give us references,” said Rhonda. “I like what I hear, but we’ve learned to get references. Right, Annie?”

  I’d been the one to hire someone too quickly to help with landscaping, and he’d ended up stealing from us.

  After Bruce and Troy left, Rhonda said, “I liked Troy. He seemed pretty eager to do the work and yet he wasn’t too uptight.” She stretched her body. “Oh boy! I’d like him to give me a massage right now.”

  A new idea came to me. “We can advertise it to expectant mothers who want a little pre-baby vacation. We had quite a few guests celebrating like that last winter. There’s no reason we can’t make a visit to The Beach House Hotel a year-round gift for new mothers-to-be.”