Chapter 3
Three
Didi
Didi Rivera stared at the pool. Green. It was green. How did it get this bad?
Jorge always took care of it. He loved taking care of it. But right now, that was impossible. She needed to hire a pool guy, just temporarily, until Jorge was better.
Didi didn’t have extra hands to fish around in the pockets of her shorts for her phone. Oh, good grief. Where had she left it? She was always leaving it somewhere. She swished the skimmer over the green water. This wasn’t helping.
Her grandkids had phones permanently attached to their physical person. She was usually annoyed by it, but maybe it was an advantage. She was always being told to keep her phone “on” for everything from getting around town to when Jorge’s pills were ready at the pharmacy. If she had the thing attached to her physical person like those grandkids, maybe she wouldn’t always be looking for the darn thing.
Finding the phone needed to take a backseat. She needed to argue with her husband at this particular moment. Jorge was slowly approaching, very slowly, but sternly lecturing her.
“What are you doing out here, Didi? I said I’d get to it.” He tried to take the skimmer pole away from her.
“I’m just getting leaves out. Keep your hands to yourself, or we’ll both wind up in the bog that ate our swimming pool.”
He stopped trying to stop her. And it was clear he probably needed to take a minute to catch his breath.
Jorge’s salt and pepper hair was mostly salt now. His brown skin was tan, as always. He was still the most handsome man she’d ever seen. But that wasn’t why she loved him. Well, it wasn’t the only reason. Among other things, he was honest, sappy, corny, loved to dance with her, and was quite literally the hardest-working man she’d ever met.
And that was the problem. He was supposed to be resting.
They’d kept the Sea Turtle Resort running smoothly for almost fifteen years now. It was their “retirement plan.” However, they’d never stopped working. She knew sitting around and trying to relax would kill Jorge just as fast as it would bore her to death, too.
She’d been officially retired from her job and going stir crazy when a private equity firm offered Jorge an early retirement package from his job. He had been the maintenance manager for the sprawling Island Winds Resorts in St. Pete. They had both decided to take this place on. She managed the bookings and the activities; he managed the grounds of the Sea Turtle’s hotel and beach cottages. It was a tiny operation compared to the Island Winds, so they handled it easily. Well, they used to.
For the first time in their lives, even though they were in their 70s, she thought they might actually need to retire.
Complications from Jorge’s hip replacement were making this season the toughest yet. His hip wasn’t ready for the off- season work they needed to do. And try as she might, Didi didn’t know how to replace the vacuum hose for this pool. Nor could she haul the chlorine from the truck to the pool shed. Skimming the surface of this pool wasn’t going to fix the bigger issue.
All of it was getting to Jorge, who’d been meticulous about the grounds at the Sea Turtle.
“Jorge! You’re supposed to call me when you walk around.”
“Didi! You’re supposed to have your phone on you. At all times. I called you, and it went straight to voicemail.” She had no argument for that.
She knew the Sea Turtle Resort had seen better days, just like her and Jorge.
The six cottages and adjacent motel were looking…well, she hated to say it, shabby. She knew it, and Jorge knew it.
Didi Rivera was not ready to quit, though, not yet.
But she had to figure something out. They couldn’t go on forever as managers of this place. She loved it so, though.
“Sit down. You’re going to have to talk me through how to shut this pump off until we can get it fixed.” The pool’s mechanical elements were making funny noises.
“I can fix it.”
“No, not right now you can’t.” She raised her voice. She rarely did that, but she wanted Jorge around. They had married in their forties and had been together for over thirty years, but she wanted more time. Sure, they were both in their seventies, but other than that hip of his and her stupid phone being missing all the time, they were good. They had many good years left, God willing.
What they didn’t have was the strength or energy for all that needed managing here. The quirky little resort may as well be the Island Winds. It felt impossible without a fully functioning Jorge!
“Fine. Fine. I’ll talk you through it, and we’ll call Silvio from the pool place. He can do this until I am back to full strength.”
“Silvio, I was trying to find his number and then realized I couldn’t find my phone. Ugh. Okay, but sit.” She put a hand out to the lounge chair and helped him ease into it.
Before she had Jorge completely settled into this spot, Karen Ort, the current occupant of the Key Lime Cottage, walked briskly onto the pool deck and got right in Didi’s face.
“I want a full refund.”
“Excuse me?”
“The listing showed a beautiful blue pool. This is a green mess. The listing showed the courtyard filled with tropical foliage. There’s a frigging lake-sized puddle of water in the center of an overgrown jungle that is breeding mosquitos with goodness knows what kind of diseases. My little Claxton was bit so bad he’s got a welt the size of a baseball on his arm. Full refund. Full.”
“We apologize for the pool; we are in the midst of contacting our?—”
“—It’s too late; we have seven days of vacation, and it’s ruined. Completely and utterly ruined.”
Didi winced. She felt each word like a knife in her chest. They’d prided themselves on running this little gem. The Sea Turtle Resort had been hosting visitors to Haven Beach, Florida, since 1948. It was a resort before Haven Beach was even a town!
She knew they had let a lot of things slip. But she took it seriously, the accusation that they’d ruined anyone’s vacation. Or their impression of Haven Beach.
“I know the pool is out of commission, but Mrs. Ort, the beach, the sand, I am sure Claxton would enjoy that even more.”
The Sea Turtle Resort was directly on Haven Beach. The Gulf of Mexico provided a spectacular sunset show every night. How could anyone see that as ruined?
“Really? Well, since we don’t have clean beach towels or a working air conditioner, I’d say a day at the beach isn’t quite enough to make up for it.”
Didi nodded. It wasn’t what was promised. She knew it. All she could do now to please this guest was to refund her money.
“I’ll put it all back on the credit card we have on file.”
“As you should. And we need help with the bags.” Karen turned and walked away.
Jorge would normally help with the bags. He tried to get out of the lounge chair. Didi saw him grip the handles to gather the strength to withstand the pain of it.
“NO! You sit. I’ll get the roller cart and get Karen out of here. We’ll regroup after she’s gone.”
“Honey, you need to be careful, too, your blood pressure.”
“My blood pressure, your hip, this green pool. We’re in a little bit of a pickle. But you know what? We’ve got the best view in Florida, and that’s what I call a blessing.”
She bent over the lounge chair and kissed Jorge.
“Well, I’m not sure it’s the best view. Second best.”
“What?” She was appalled; they did have the best view, the best beach here!
“I’ve got the best view watching you walk away.” He raised an eyebrow to let her know he was referring to her seventy-five-year-old backside.
“Jorge, you’re terrible.” Didi’s face got warm. Still, after all these years, he could make her blush.
She turned around and felt a swat on that same backside as she went off to find the luggage cart they kept in the laundry building.
She could hear Karen barking orders to Claxton and her entire family. What an unpleasant woman.
Didi tried not to smile too broadly. If Karen et al. didn’t see what a gem Haven Beach was, that was her problem. Didi knew. And so did Jorge.