Bubbles (The Beach House Hotel #10)

CHAPTER ONE

“A nnie, take a look at this,” said Rhonda DelMonte Grayson, my best friend and fellow owner of The Beach House Hotel. She motioned for me to come over to her desk in our office.

I leaned over her shoulder to read the message we’d received from our reservations department. When I was through, I sat down in my desk chair and felt the sting of tears.

Five women, members of a book club in a small town outside Pittsburgh, had reserved one of our guesthouses on the property for ten days. Each confessed that they’d all had to save their money for some time to be able to do it, and all five asked for champagne to be delivered to the house on a different evening as a surprise to the others.

“That’s so sweet,” I said. “We’ve got to do something special for them.”

“One of the women, Jane Sweeny, said she wants to include packages of bubbles from our spa with her gift so they can take bubble baths,” said Rhonda. “She said they wanted bubbles, bubbles, bubbles to celebrate being here. Isn’t that adorable?”

“What could we do to help them make their time here more special? Give them spa packages?” I asked.

Rhonda looked at me and grinned. “Perfect.”

My mind spun. “Maybe they’d allow us to interview them for our special ‘Pamper Package Program.’” Even with the stellar reputation our upscale hotel on the Gulf Coast of Florida enjoyed, we were always trying to find ways to put “heads in beds,” as they say in the business.

###

A few days later, on a balmy September morning, Rhonda and I stood at the top of the front stairs of the hotel to greet our book club guests.

Rhonda nudged me when the white stretch limo pulled through the gates. “Guess they decided to go all the way for their ride. I freakin’ love it.”

I laughed. “I can’t remember when we’ve been so excited about new guests.”

As the limo pulled to a stop, Rhonda and I hurried down the steps to greet them. I couldn’t wait to meet these women. They sounded like people I’d want as friends.

The back doors of the limo opened, and a group of women laughing and talking began to get out of the car. They looked as different as could be. But one, a woman with dark hair and a streak of gray across the front, seemed to be in charge.

She stepped forward. “Hello, I’m Jane Sweeny. You must be Ann and Rhonda. We’ve read all about you.”

“Welcome to The Beach House Hotel,” I said.

Rhonda beamed at them. “We’re so happy you’re here.”

“Hello, I’m Amy Hardeman,” said a woman with pink-streaked brown hair emerging from the limo. She turned. “And this is Caro Corbin,” she continued, indicating a stunning blonde who gave us a shy smile as she stood before us.

From around the other side of the limo, a woman with dark curly hair approached, gazing around with interest. “I’m Lisa Stein. We’re so happy to be here.”

“And last but not least,” said a woman trailing Lisa, “I’m Heather McPherson.” Her blue eyes gleamed with excitement.

One of our valets rolled a luggage cart over to the limo driver to help with the bags.

“The valet will take your suitcases to your house,” I said. “Come into the hotel to check-in, and then Rhonda and I will escort you to your house.”

“Okay,” said Lisa. “First, I want to get a photo of the entrance to the hotel. It’s gorgeous!” She turned to the others. “Just think! We get to live here in the lap of luxury for ten whole days.”

Heather, a pleasantly plump woman with blond hair, clapped, and the others joined in, smiling at one another.

“May I take a photo of the two of you right here?” asked Jane.

I hesitated and then said, “Certainly.” Normally, I didn’t like having photos taken of me, but for this friendly group, I couldn’t resist.

Rhonda winked at me, and we stood together for the group.

At the entrance to the hotel lobby, Rhonda and I introduced Bernie, our General Manager, to them.

He bobbed his head. “Welcome to The Beach House Hotel. Let us know if we can do anything for you. We’re here to see that your stay with us is everything you want.”

The woman with brown hair and pink coloring flowing through it looked at Bernie. “Glad to hear it. We investigated several properties but chose this hotel because of your reputation for excellent service.”

Bernie looked surprised at the no-nonsense way the woman spoke but nodded politely. “Compliments like that are always appreciated. We work hard for them. Have a pleasant stay.”

He turned and walked away.

“He sounds so European,” gushed one of the women.

“I believe with a name like Bernhard Bruner, he’s of German descent,” said Jane. She turned to Rhonda and me. “I’m a librarian and love facts of all kinds.”

“Jane is the one who got this group together some years ago. She even came up with the name of our book club, The Book Circle,” said the blonde. “And that’s what we’ve become—a circle of friends.”

“Best friends,” said the woman with curly dark hair.

“You’re very lucky,” I said. “Women being together, listening to one another, supporting one another is a precious gift.”

“Women helping women is something we all need,” said Rhonda. “Right, Annie?”

“Yes. We could never have created this hotel if we weren’t best friends. So, we want you to enjoy being together here. Let’s register you, and then we’ll go to the house.”

Thanks to pre-registration information, we quickly got everyone signed in, and then Rhonda and I walked the group over to the guesthouse they’d rented. They had plenty of room with three bedrooms, a nice-sized kitchen and living space, and a private pool.

As the women entered the house, they first saw the huge bouquet of fresh flowers we’d placed in the living room. Beyond that, the pool and the palm trees outside the pool cage beckoned.

“Wow! This is even more beautiful than I thought it would be,” said one of the women.

“We’ve put bottles of water and a small charcuterie plate in the refrigerator. The dining room is open, and I’m sure you’ve made reservations for dinner tonight,” said Rhonda. She didn’t mention the bottle of champagne one of the women had ordered, which was now hiding in the refrigerator.

“Oh, yes. We’ve read all about Jean-Luc and his delicious meals,” said Jane.

A valet was waiting in the kitchen. “I need to know where to put the luggage. If you’ll each show me which room you are in, I’ll be happy to carry the bags there.”

After some commotion, the valet got all the luggage into the right rooms. Jane took the master bedroom suite while the others were settled in the other two rooms.

“It seems right that Jane was given the master suite because she’s the one who organized all of this for us,” said the pink-haired woman, returning to the living room.

“Now that you’re all getting settled, Rhonda and I will leave you,” I said.

“Enjoy your stay,” said Rhonda.

###

A s we left the house , Rhonda said, “I’m so glad we’re friends.”

“The best of friends,” I said, laughing when she pulled me into a bosomy hug. I’d grown up with a strict grandmother who didn’t believe in displays of affection. It had taken me a while to get used to Rhonda and her openness to others.

“Those women are bound to have a good time,” said Rhonda. “They seem very different, but apparently, they’ve been friends for years.”

“Go ahead and make fun of me, but I get a little nervous when things seem too perfect,” I said, wishing I didn’t sound like my grandmother, who became suspicious of happy times.

“Well, no matter what happens with them, we can handle anything together,” said Rhonda.

My spirits lifted. “You’re right—the two of us together. Let’s hit the beach for a few minutes. We have plenty of time before we’re to meet with Lorraine.” Lorraine Grace handled weddings for the hotel through her business, Wedding Perfection. She’d become a very valued member of our team.

We walked to the beach's edge, removed our shoes, and walked onto the warm sand. The salty tang of the air filled my nose, and I inhaled it gratefully as I moved toward the water. I felt part of a different world whenever I stood in the water, feeling the push and pull of the waves at my feet. I looked up as a trio of pelicans flew in formation close to the water’s surface, looking for food to fill their pouches.

Close by, seagulls circling in the air caught my attention, and I listened to their high-pitched cries with a sense of rightness. All seemed as it was supposed to be in my world. My worries about the group of women in one of the guesthouses disappeared. After all, what could go wrong? It was a group of long-time friends in one of the most beautiful spots in the country.

I was so lost in my thoughts that when Rhonda elbowed me, I jumped with surprise.

“Here comes Brock Goodwin,” she said with annoyance. “I thought he was an early morning walker. There must be some reasons he’s so late.”

“He’s heading right toward us. I wonder what he wants now.” Brock Goodwin was the president of the Neighborhood Association and thought he could tell us how to run our hotel. He’d fought us at every step when we’d tried to open it.

“Ah, you’re just the two I was looking for,” said Brock, coming up to us and giving us a fake smile that made my blood boil.

By the looks of it, Rhonda was as irritated as I was by his condescending tone.

“Hello, Brock,” I said.

“I heard you had a whole bunch of women arriving at the hotel and staying in one of the guest houses. I bet you didn’t know the neighborhood has regulations about how many people can stay in a rental house.”

“I bet you didn’t know I don’t give a rat’s ass about that and what you’re trying to do,” said Rhonda.

“Your neighborhood rules don’t apply to the hotel,” I said, trying to calm Rhonda while talking straight to Brock. “I’m sure you’re aware of that. If not, read the bylaws of the association again.”

Brock made a face and slammed his hands on his hips. “You two think you can do anything you want, but as president of the Neighborhood Association, I’m here to keep watch on you. You are part of the neighborhood whether I like it or not.”

“You’ve made that point too often,” I said. “We’re not the only ones who think you constantly try to make your position more than it is for your own self-importance.”

“Yeah,” said Rhonda. “Eff off.”

I knew Rhonda was just getting started on telling Brock what else he could do, so I took hold of her arm, and we turned away from Brock.

Brock ran around us and blocked our way. “You may think you have the last word on this and other problems at the hotel, but I promise I’ll keep my eye on you.”

“Brock, I told you to eff off,” said Rhonda. Having grown up in a tough neighborhood, Rhonda was no stranger to speaking her mind or facing an enemy.

Afraid the situation would worsen, I said, “See you later, Brock. And this time, please have the courtesy to step out of our way.”

I could see Brock trying to control his emotions as if deciding whether to stay or move. Finally, he stepped back, and Rhonda and I went on our way.

“That bastard is going to make me do it,” said Rhonda.

“Do what?” I asked.

“Wring his fuckin’ neck,” said Rhonda, her dark eyes flashing. “He has no right telling us how many guests can stay in one of our guesthouses.”

“Of course not,” I said. “He just keeps trying to push his position on us. He’s done it from the beginning. If he’d had his way, the hotel would never have opened. And to have it be the success it is irritates him.”

“I don’t like thinking he has some inside source talking about our guests. Let’s tell Bernie what happened. The staff needs to know they can’t talk about our guests and who’s staying where,” said Rhonda.

“I agree,” I said, and we headed inside to see Bernie.

Bernie was an impressive hotel manager. His presence and manner were noticeably autocratic, but he was a lovely man determined to do an outstanding job. If you gave him the respect he deserved, he was a loyal friend and an excellent person to run our hotel for us. We adored him and his wife, Annette, who worked in hospitality service for us.

When we knocked on Bernie’s door, he called us inside his office.

“We just saw Brock Goodwin on the beach,” I began.

“That’s enough to ruin anyone’s day,” said Bernie. “What now?”

“He thinks he can tell us how many people we must limit to either of our guesthouses,” said Rhonda.

“We all know he can’t. What else did he say?”

“He’s going to keep his eye on us, which is nothing new,” I said. “But we’re unhappy he knew a group of women was staying in one of the houses. Do we need to talk to staff again about not saying anything about the people staying here?”

“It’s always wise to remind staff of that, especially when new people come on board. I’ll add that to the agenda for the upcoming staff meeting,” said Bernie. “It seemed like an enthusiastic group of women. I don’t want to do anything to make them think less of the hotel.”

“My feelings exactly,” I said. “Brock tries to make things difficult for us. Even after the episode of being under suspicion for providing drugs to one of our guests who died from an overdose.”

“We can’t let that ... jerk stop us from doing well,” said Rhonda, struggling not to swear in front of Bernie.

“On another note,” said Bernie. “I heard from Vice-President Amelia Swanson. She has a favor to ask.”

“Another one?” groaned Rhonda. “What now?”

“Two of her staffers, trusted men, need a break. They’ve been traveling out of the country with her and need time to write up a few reports and to relax. I’ve agreed to put them in the vacant guest house for two weeks, full price.”

“When are they arriving?” I asked. “I don’t think we want anyone to interfere with the fun the women are planning.”

“They’re arriving late tonight,” Bernie said. “I’ll make sure the night staff is aware.”

“That’ll be great. I’m glad for the income,” I said. “This isn’t our busiest time.”

“Let’s hope the weather holds,” said Rhonda. “The last hurricane threat died when the system weakened and headed away from the coast.”

“We can’t let weather forecasts take away the pleasure of Florida at this time of year,” said Bernie. “We certainly don’t want to ruin any vacations with threats of bad weather. Personally, I like autumn here.”

“Me, too,” I said. “A few more weeks, and we’ll be into Christmas holiday planning.”

Having my triplet grandchildren around made each holiday special. They’d be four years old this year and more fun than ever.

“Hold on, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said Rhonda, sounding panicky at the thought of rushing the holidays. “We need to take it day by day. Who knows what can happen here at The Beach House Hotel?”

A shiver traveled down my back. I glanced at Rhonda, knowing she was right. Every day was full of surprises.