Finding Home at Hearts Hotel (Sweet Blossom Bay #6)

1. Linda

LINDA

The oppressive humidity of the mid-morning sun hung thick over the lakeside grounds of Sweet Blossom Bay, but beneath the heavy canvas of the Hearts Hotel canopy tent, Linda thought she had engineered the ultimate escape.

The air here was shaded and cooler, scented faintly with the charcoal smoke of nearby barbecue pits and the crisp, salty tang of fresh lake water.

Everywhere else, the annual Summer Lake Games was descending into a madhouse of hyper-competitive local tourism, screaming children, and blaring whistles.

But Linda and Isabel had drawn a hard boundary.

They had deliberately positioned themselves a full thirty yards away from the chaotic main staging area, safely tucked behind a wall of coolers and supply crates.

They had dragged out two luxury fold-out deck chairs, angled them perfectly toward the gentle ripples of the shore, and cracked open a massive, industrial-sized bag of extra-buttered popcorn.

Under the official, unwritten rule of the festival, anyone holding a bag of snacks while sitting down was legally classified as a "non-athletic spectator nursing a minor, spectator-related strain. " It was a bulletproof strategy.

Or so they thought.

"I am telling you," Isabel muttered, leaning back into her deck chair with a sunglasses-shielded sigh of absolute contentment as she tossed a popcorn kernel into her mouth, "allowing Maggie and Michael to volunteer us as general cheerleaders was our finest executive decision yet.

Look at them out there. They look like they are preparing to storm a beachhead. "

Linda looked across the sun-drenched lawn toward the registration tables.

Co-Captains Maggie and Michael were marching around in their matching navy blue Hearts Hotel shirts, their clipboards held at chest-height like protective shields, barking timing instructions at anyone unlucky enough to make eye contact.

Vice-Captain Penny was right beside them, her clipboard matching theirs step-for-step, looking far too pleased with her newfound authoritative status.

"It is pure summer madness," Linda agreed, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she reached into the popcorn bag. "Darius actually looked excited when he put on his 'Champion' t-shirt this morning. I didn't have the heart to tell him he's walking straight into a trap."

"Men love a useless piece of printed cotton," Isabel snorted softly, crossing her ankles. "As long as they stay over by the volleyball courts and leave us to our popcorn, I consider this entire weekend a massive success."

A shadow suddenly fell across their deck chairs, blocking out the glaring afternoon sunlight.

Linda didn't even look up at first, assuming it was just Owen coming over to get another bottle of iced water from their cooler.

She casually extended a handful of popcorn toward the boots standing before them.

"Help yourself, Owen, but if you brought another lecture about team spirit, you can turn right around. "

"That," a crisp, sharp, drill-sergeant voice announced from above them, "is not team spirit. That is high-treason against the Hearts Hotel corporate charter."

Linda’s hand froze mid-air. Slowly, dreadfully, she lowered the popcorn and tilted her sun hat back.

Standing right over them with legs planted wide and a clipboard pressed menacingly against her stomach was Captain Maggie. Flanking her on either side were Michael and Vice-Captain Penny, both wearing identical expressions of grim, unyielding determination.

"Uh, oh. This doesn’t look good," Isabel groaned dramatically, sliding lower into her canvas deck chair until her chin practically touched her collarbone. "We’ve been compromised. Play dead, Linda. Close your eyes."

“Maybe if we sit very, very still they’ll just walk on by,” Linda said hopefully.

“Or…” Isabel said, looking at her friend. “On the count of three we yell crocodile and then dash.”

“There are no crocodiles in Florida,” Michael pointed out. “Alligator would’ve been a better choice.”

“Water?” Linda asked, pulling a bottle from the cooler and holding it up. “We’re the official water givers.”

“Yes, that's right,” Isabel stated. “We’re sitting here and handing out water to the competitors. It’s a very important job.”

“You two are up next,” Penny told them, ignoring the glaring looks they darted at her.

“Seriously, you have a whole entire team of people; why do you need us?” Linda asked.

"Morale is currently plummeting because the Eagle View Guest Lodge team from Sanibel just posted a scorching time on the floating inflatable obstacle course," Penny chimed in, her eyes shining with mischievous, bright excitement.

"And according to the master rotation schedule meticulously curated by your co-captains, the Hearts Hotel executive branch is up next. "

"We are not up next," Isabel argued, adjusting her sunglasses to glare at Penny. "We are resting. Linda pulled a muscle reaching for the potato chips ten minutes ago."

"And Isabel got a bit of sunburn on her cheek,” Linda stated. “We’re injured.”

Maggie didn't even blink. She pulled a red marker from her back pocket, uncapped it with her teeth, and made a swift, slashing mark across her clipboard.

"Noted. Snack-related ligament strain requires immediate hydrotherapy.

Which means you are officially slotted into the water-based obstacle relay.

The cooling properties of the lake will soothe that ankle right up. "

"Maggie, you’re a tyrant," Linda breathed, letting out an exasperated laugh.

"I am a Captain," Maggie corrected her, her voice sounding deadly serious in a way that brooked zero argument.

She clapped her hands together once, the sharp crack echoing loudly across the grass.

"Up, up, up! Move those executive legs! Your heat starts on the floating dock in exactly four minutes, and if you aren't standing on the starting mat when the whistle blows, I am personally docking your housekeeping privileges at the hotel for a month. "

Defeated by the ultimate threat of having their housekeeping privileges revoked by an overzealous captain, Linda and Isabel abandoned their luxury lawn chairs with heavy hearts and even heavier sighs.

They trudged across the sun-baked lawn, past the steaming barbecue grills and the booming loudspeakers, heading toward the shimmering expanse of the lake.

The heat radiating off the wooden planks of the main staging dock was intense, with a faint scent of cedar, sunscreen, and damp neoprene.

Around them, the festival was operating at peak chaos.

Families from Sanibel and Sweet Blossom Bay were cheering themselves hoarse, cowbells were ringing rhythmically, and the local DJ was blasting an upbeat summer playlist that felt entirely too energetic for Linda and Isabel, who were being marched to their doom.

"If I break my neck on that neon monstrosity, I’m coming back to haunt all of them," Isabel grumbled, adjusting her life vest as it cinched tightly around her ribs. Her face was a mask of stoic resignation. “I do not do well with water sports."

"Me either," Linda murmured, though her lips twitched with amusement despite her dread. "I hate those inflatable bouncy thingies. They make me feel seasick.”

“I know, and that water looks really cold,” Isabel glanced at the dark lake in disgust, unable to stifle a shudder. “Are there any ski boats anywhere that we could do a quick getaway with?”

“Unfortunately, no boats with motors are allowed on the lake!” Linda sighed.

They stepped onto the floating staging dock, where a pair of official race marshals handed them matching mesh team bibs.

Standing directly across the narrow starting zone in identical neon green jerseys were their designated opponents: two formidable mothers from the Eagle View Guest Lodge in Sanibel.

These women looked less like vacationers and more like tactical survivalists who spent their weekends scaling cliffs and wrestling alligators.

They were aggressively stretching their hamstrings, their eyes locked onto the floating obstacle course with terrifying, laser-focused intensity.

"Oh, look," Isabel whispered, nudging Linda sharply in the ribs as she eyed the Sanibel team.

"We have absolutely nothing to worry about, as our opponents are not sporty at all.” She shook her head.

“Linda, we’re hopelessly doomed." She looked at her friend.

“I mean I run and walk but…” She glanced at the two women getting ready.

“They look like they bench press cars for fun.”

"We just have to finish," Linda whispered back, rolling her shoulders to loosen up. "Even if we have to crawl across that thing like wounded turtles, we just have to finish to get the points."

“Well, that makes my upcoming humiliation feel so much more worthwhile,” Isabel assured her sarcastically.

The floating obstacle course itself, dubbed by the festival committee as 'The Aqua-Savage Inflatable Challenge', was an architectural marvel of industrial PVC and cruel imagination.

Anchored securely to the lakebed by thick nylon ropes, it floated lazily upon the sparkling water like a serpentine rainbow monster.

It featured a sequence of giant, wobbling red spheres known as the 'Wobble Spheres,' followed by a claustrophobic, dark-blue vinyl crawl-tube that baked under the direct summer sun, and finally a treacherous, narrow balance beam that stretched across four feet of open, algae-flecked water.

Overhead, perched on the central judging raft that bobbed gently in the middle of the lake, Pete raised a bright orange starter's pistol into the humid afternoon air. Through the PA system, his amplified voice boomed across the entire shoreline, cutting through the chatter of the crowd.

"All right, relay teams for heat four! Take your positions on the starting platforms!"