CHAPTER ELEVEN
As we often did to greet guests, Rhonda and I stood at the top of the stairs waiting for Everly to arrive. Bernie had spoken to the valets and front desk staff about the need for confidentiality and had informed them newspeople were not allowed to trail after Everly on the property. She loved to be photographed for any reason. Even now, Everly or someone who worked for her must have called the local television station because a cameraman and reporter were waiting for her arrival just inside the hotel’s gates.
“I’m tellin’ ya, Annie, this guest spells trouble before she even gets here. Look, there’s Terri Thomas, from the Sable Newspaper. And now more local television crews. What are we going to do?”
“They can’t get beyond the front lawn. We’ll have to trust our security people will do their job.” I tried to sound as convincing as I could, but I was furious that Everly or her staff had arranged this. Was she going to make her stay at The Beach House Hotel all about her? It looked that way.
A white limousine pulled inside the gates and stopped. One of the back windows rolled down and an arm extended from it, eagerly waving a hand.
Rhonda and I started down the stairs.
The limo pulled up in front of us, and we waited for the driver to open the passenger door. A sandaled foot and thin leg emerged before the gaunt figure of Everly Jansen came into view. We’d seen photos of Everly before, but nothing prepared me for the sight of a woman who’d once been beautiful and now looked … well, used.
“Welcome to The Beach House Hotel,” said Rhonda, in a tone that wasn’t very warm. No doubt because she, like I, was very worried about this guest.
“Hello,” I said. “Why don’t you come this way and we’ll get you registered into the hotel and comfortably settled in your suite.”
“Oh, no. Not yet. My supporters know I’m here, and I want to thank them for the help and encouragement they give me.” Smiling, she turned and waved to the cameras. “Hello, dear fans, I want you to know how much I appreciate you. After all the horrible things that have been said about me by my ex-husband’s lawyers, I needed to have a rest before I continue to carry on the fight for what is mine.”
“You already have a divorce settlement. Why do you think you can open a case against that?” asked one reporter.
“The cost of living has gone up in the last two years. I’ve discovered I can’t get by comfortably on what the settlement provided. It’s only fair for me to get more money.”
“Are you doing this because of your ex’s possible lucrative new contract with ACBE?” asked another reporter.
“I’m going to let my lawyer sort all of that out. I just want what is due to me,” Everly said. “If it wasn’t for me, Darryl Douglas might still be working at some nightclubs on the road.”
“But you didn’t have much success at being known at ACBE before marrying Darryl,” said one of the reporters. “I think it’s the other way around.”
Everly shot the newsman such a look of fury, he inched closer hoping for more information.
Regaining her composure and smiling broadly again, Everly waved and blew a kiss to the cameras.
We walked beside Everly as she climbed the front steps of the hotel.
Once inside, she turned to us. “I’m not going to bother to register. I want to go directly to The Presidential Suite. Flying today is so unpleasant.”
“We’ll show you to your suite and send someone from the Front Desk up to your room to take care of your registration,” I said, warning Rhonda with a look to keep quiet. Rhonda was, as she would say, totally pissed to have Everly treat us and our procedures that way.
We led Everly to a winding staircase in the corner of the lobby to what once was Rhonda’s private headquarters. Now it served as The Presidential Suite, worthy of any hotel.
We opened the carved wooden door of the suite and motioned Everly inside. From the front entrance, one faced the living room. A large Oriental carpet in greens, blues, and deep red covered most of the wooden floor. It was offset by white couches and subtly patterned chairs in complementary colors.
The dining room was next to the kitchen, which wasn’t large but was well laid out. Outside, between the kitchen and living room, a large balcony held a table and chairs and overlooked the side garden. In contrast, the master bedroom offered a perfect view of the beach and Gulf water. The master bath was everyone’s favorite space. The shiny brass fixtures added to the marbled interior which had an enormous shower that Rhonda had once told me was her “playpen.”
Another bedroom, full bath, and powder room were part of the suite.
Everly followed us around but did not comment until she saw the gift basket left for her. “I hope it’s a good wine. I’m ready for some,” she said, lifting the bottle of pinot noir from the basket.
“Anything you need, just call the front desk,” said Rhonda.
“Have a wonderful stay. We’ll send someone up from the front desk to get the information we need. Thank you,” I said, backing away from her toward the front entrance, fighting the awful feeling that something bad was about to happen.
Rhonda closed the door behind us and shook her head. “She’s on something. Did you see the way her hands were shaking?”
“I didn’t, but I’m afraid you’re right. It was more than being hungover or travel fatigue.”
We went to the front desk and told one of the clerks what we wanted him to do.
Bernie came over to us. “How did things go? Sorry, I was busy with a call and didn’t make it out to the lobby to greet Everly Jansen.”
“We’ve just sent someone up to her room to get her registration information. She refused to go to the front desk and do it even though no one else was there,” I said.
“She’s a pain in the ass already,” said Rhonda.
“Don’t worry, the staff and I will take over from here,” said Bernie in what was a soothing tone for him—crisp and clear.
“Okay, thanks,” I said. “I see we have a VIP private dinner tonight. I assume Annette is handling that, but I’ll be on hand to greet them and help Annette.”
Bernie bobbed his head and walked away to see about the commotion outside in front of the hotel.
Rhonda and I followed but hung back as Bernie approached the group of photographers and news reporters. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m asking you to please leave. The Beach House Hotel is known for offering our guests the privacy they deserve. Any requests for information need to come through my office as manager of the hotel. Thank you.”
I couldn’t help smiling. The more serious Bernie became, the thicker his German accent.
Rhonda and I headed to our office. There were other things we needed to take care of.
We were discussing plans for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s celebrations when I received a call from the front desk.
“Hello, Ms. Sanders. I want you and Ms. Grayson to know that the charge card Ms. Jansen used for her deposit didn’t go through. Neither did a second card.”
I thanked the clerk and turned to Rhonda. “Problem already. Everly’s charge cards didn’t go through.”
“Surprise, surprise,” grumped Rhonda. “Let Bernie handle it. I’m already too annoyed to be polite.”
I blinked in surprise. Rhonda must be really upset to admit she couldn’t deal with the situation. Normally, she would’ve been on her feet, ready to confront Everly with some spicy language. She hated deceit.
“Are you alright, Rhonda?” I asked, giving her a steady look.
Rhonda sighed and shook her head. “I’m worried about Will. Ever since Reggie’s father, Arthur, married Lorraine and came to live in Sabal, he and Reggie have been working overtime to finish work and to try to get new clients. It’s as if they’re trying to compete with Arthur who brought many of his high-profile clients with him to Florida. It’s really like comparing apples and oranges.”
“Have you talked to him about it? He’s at an age when he should be thinking about slowing down.”
“He doesn’t want to listen to me. It’s as if he must prove he’s as successful as Arthur. He’s every bit as successful as Arthur, but he’s handling a different kind of client.” Rhonda sighed. “I don’t know what I can do.” “Do you want to go on vacation? Maybe go over to the Palm Island Club? That’s one of Vaughn’s favorite nearby spots for relaxation. It might help.”
Rhonda’s eyes widened. “I’ve tried talking to him about going away with no success. Maybe he’d consider somewhere closer. We’ll see. I’m doing my best not to let it affect my attitude, but I don’t need much to set me off. It’s just that I feel worried and helpless. Know what I mean?”
“I do,” I said. We loved our husbands and when they were worried or depressed, it affected us.
“Why don’t you go ahead and call the Palm Island Club and see what dates they have open for one of their cottages?”
Rhonda drew a deep breath. “Okay. But, Annie, how can I leave you alone with the hotel when we have a guest who’s a problem and both houses are occupied?”
“That’s why we have Bernie. It’s his job to manage the hotel. We’re here to manage the hotel’s reputation and growth.”
“You’re right. This isn’t the first troublemaking guest we’ve had to deal with. Everyone from VIPs to fake royalty. I’m going to call the Palm Island Club now.”
I headed out to the beach for some fresh air and a chance to collect my thoughts. Everly Jansen spelled trouble. I knew it. But I also knew we’d have to deal with it. The chance for public relations to go wrong was part of our worry.
As luck would have it, I saw Brock Goodwin talking to a group of women down the beach. It surprised me that many of the single women in the neighborhood found him attractive and a nice addition to social gatherings. But then I’d had the chance to see what kind of man he was when I foolishly went on a date with him and discovered he was a pig in disguise.
I headed away from the group and walked slowly among the frothy edges of the water. Holding my sandals in my hand, I stood in the water ankle-deep and loved the feeling of the sand shifting beneath my feet as the water came into shore and pulled away. It made me feel part of nature.
“Hello, Ann,” said Brock coming up to me. “I saw all the commotion at the hotel with the arrival of Everly Jansen. I hope she isn’t going to become a nuisance for the neighborhood with all the paparazzi following her. We don’t want television trucks parked on the streets, making it impossible to get by.”
“Rhonda and I don’t care for the publicity either,” I said, surprising him with my agreement. “We’ve asked them to leave the property. What Everly and her following do outside our gates is not our problem.”
Brock’s face wrinkled as he frowned. “See? That’s just the kind of thing I expect from you and Rhonda. No cooperation with the neighborhood.”
“You know that’s not true. But realistically there’s nothing we can do about this.”
“Well, then, I’ll have to come talk to Everly myself,” said Brock, drawing himself up straight.
“You’ll have to get her permission to visit her. You can’t just walk into the hotel demanding to see her.”
“I know. But when she knows who I am, she’ll want to talk to me,” said Brock, his ego in overdrive.
“See you later,” I said, wondering why the beach, the place I loved, was always ruined by his presence.