Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
Ali
The Hafner family and the Noble family rolled into the parking lot at 4 pm sharp.
Two couples and a total of five kids piled out of two minivans that looked like they’d driven across the country.
Ali put her hostess face on. After years of hosting major conventions for the City of Toledo, she knew how to make people feel welcome, cared for, and special.
She poured that experience into greeting the Hafners and the Nobles.
“Welcome to Sea Turtle Resort!” She put on a smile, and it was only fake for half a second. Seeing the families warmed her heart.
The Hafners looked to be in their early thirties. The mother looked tired, but she was surprisingly pulled together having been in a family van for who knows how long. Her long wavy blonde hair and cute leggings had Ali feeling bad about the state she’d arrived here in. Mrs. Hafner was adorable. Two elementary school aged boys trailed behind her, also blonde, and there was a little brown-haired toddler girl on her hip.
Ali remembered those days, never a free hand.
The Nobles were also lugging two little ones, a boy and a girl, both in elementary school. Mrs. Noble and Mrs. Hafner looked like sisters. The kids all looked related, too.
“Let’s get you checked in,” Ali said brightly.
“I’ll wait out here with the crew,” said Mrs. Hafner. The other three adults followed Ali into the office.
“The office is also our laundry if you have any stuff to wash over the next few days,” Ali said.
Ali registered the guests and explained they’d be in the Key Lime and the Blueberry.
“Unfortunately, the pool is out of order right now, but the beach is always in ship shape. As an apology for the inconvenience of the pool, I’ll bring some breakfast tomorrow morning, if you’re interested. The Morning Bell has the best donuts around.”
They all seemed unfazed by the news about the pool. Phew, good.
While checking them all in, Ali learned Mrs. Noble and Mrs. Hafner were sisters.
“What a fun family vacation!” Ali said and was a bit wistful. She and her sisters should have done this when Faye’s and her kids were little. They never had.
“While the laundry is open during business hours and if you have an emergency laundry need, just holler. I’m aware that with one, two, three, four, five,” she playfully pointed to each kid, who giggled as she did it, “laundry emergencies happen.”
The two moms looked relieved to hear it.
Ali had found a cart for luggage in the office and rolled it out after they finished checking in.
“I think we can get it all on here,” she said.
“Are you kidding? We packed enough to move in,” Dale Hafner said as he stacked his luggage on the cart. Brock Noble did the same. There was a little left in each van, but for the most part, the bulk of the luggage was loaded. Ali took a deep breath and started to pull the cart. It was a bumpy ride, but it was what these weary travelers deserved. This was their vacation.
“You’re new here,” Doreen Noble said as the families tumbled into the Blueberry and the Key Lime.
“Yes, just helping out a bit. You’ve been here before?”
“This is our third time. We come off-season, and honestly, with the prices, this is the only place we can swing with both families. Everywhere else are impersonal condos five flights up or at the resorts. Even with the meal plans, well, Dale’s an electrician, I do nails, Brock is laid off, and Kerry is trying to work from home. We’d have to be millionaires to stay at those places.”
Ali hadn’t tried to book a family vacation in a while. She wondered if that was the case, that Sea Turtle Resort was unique?
It gave her a new perspective on the worn-down, out-of-date resort.
“I’m sorry we had to move you from the Mango. I know that’s what you’d requested, but it is undergoing some maintenance.”
“Oh, we’re cool. The ocean is right there.” Dale said, and he took in the scene.
“Grand Finale still same bat time, same bat station?” Brock asked.
“Sure is!” Ali answered confidently but realized she’d need to get moving on that immediately. The sunset was only two hours away.
“Ugh, did I forget sunscreen? How did I forget sunscreen?” Kerry said as she rifled through bags and her kids bounced around the Blueberry.
“I’ll see you all at the Grand Finale.”
Ali got out of the way and let the families start their vacations. She made a note to herself. She should stock the cottages with some amenities like sunscreen and shampoo. Maybe a few things that you couldn’t fly with, too.
Ali shook her head; no, she shouldn’t do anything. She was selling this place.
The two families she’d just met deserved to have a lovely vacation, though. They were working hard. She remembered the hectic days of having little ones, too, while working. They didn’t need to know this might be the last hurrah for the Sea Turtle Resort.
Ali found Jorge and Didi sitting in the chairs by the fire pit. They looked a little better but also tired.
“Are the guests all set?”
“All set. Your instructions were perfect, and they’re happily unpacking and looking for their sunscreen.”
“Good,” Didi said. “I’ll get over to the market for the Grand Finale.”
“You’ll do no such thing, either of you.” Ali had decided if she was in for a penny, she was in for a pound.
“The Grand Finale is a staple, part of the magic, we have to.”
“I’m aware. I was enchanted with that bit of magic. But you’re both tired. Let me, for one night, handle your Grand Finale duties.”
“Jorge, this is too much to ask her. We need to get to the market and?—”
“—You didn’t ask,” Ali interjected. “And I’m the owner, so technically, the boss. I need you two at top form when I head back to Ohio. While I’m here, you should recharge, at least for tonight.”
“She’s right,” Jorge said to Didi. “Thank you, Ali. Didi tends to run herself ragged.”
“But I love taking care of our guests.”
“I know you do, I do, too, but we need to get you home. Start fresh tomorrow.” Jorge looked at his wife with love and concern.
Ali nodded. He was speaking reason.
“I’m sure I can manage one night,” she reassured them.
“Now, get going,” Jorge told Ali. “Charcuteries don’t make themselves!”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, it’s a cheese board,” Didi said, but while she protested, she allowed Jorge to take her hand and lead her toward the door.
“You’ve been doing my job and your job for too long. Let Ali do them for one night.”
“But she’s one person!”
“Yeah, and she’s half our age, so the math works out.”
Ali wasn’t half their age, but those thirty years or so did make a difference. She felt invigorated and had a fire under her at the challenge.
With the guests checked in, she thought it best to focus on the Grand Finale. She had been to two. Both times, locals had showed up. Ali didn’t want to disappoint Erica or Henry and also needed to be sure the families were enchanted! Theme parks might have fireworks, but they had the beach and the best sunset on Earth.
Ali didn’t spend much time thinking about why she wanted to do this; she simply didn’t have time for it. Her favorite moments at Frogtown Convention Center were when her vendors were happy, and event attendees had smiles on their faces. Touches like Ruby’s Hot Dogs or video game stations for bored kids made her events shine.
She’d pour that into today. It was only one day, and she did own the place, after all. Why she owned it was still a mystery, but one she also didn’t have the time for with the guests and the sun moving across the sky.
She needed to get several charcuterie boards prepared.
Didi had told her about the local produce and cheese market that she used so Ali could avoid Costco. Costco was great, but she wanted something unique and, more importantly, fast. A drive into Tampa or wherever was not going to be fast.
Moe’s Market was two blocks away. She would like to walk, but she needed too many ingredients to carry back, so she got in the Jeep and popped over.
Moe’s was a little ramshackle, if she was being honest. There were no t-shirts for sale or sunscreen, like the Publix down the road, where you could buy pretty much anything you’d need, from lunch meat to a wakeboard.
Moe’s was all meat, produce, cheese, and wine, thank goodness.
Ali loaded a cart with what she’d seen on Didi’s cheese board the night before. Then she searched for a few things the Hafner and Noble kids would like. Nothing fussy or pretentious but still special. They’d need cookies and grapes, and she thought crackers for the kids would be good.
“Can I help you find something in particular?” A man wearing a Moe’s t-shirt, not very tall, but very muscular, she noticed, offered her a smile and his assistance.
“Oh, hello. Ah, actually, yes, crackers, some for grown-ups and some for little ones. The little ones need to be like Ritz but ritzier.” She figured the kids would be happy with them.
“Aisle 6, let me show ya what we’ve got.”
She followed and he listed a few options. “Here, these are like, elevated Ritz crackers. The kids will love them.” He handed her a box, and she put it in the cart.
“Thank you.” At this point, her cart looked full. The only thing she didn’t have was a few cookies or sweet treats. She had fruit, but kids didn’t always go for that.
Maybe I can hit Erica up for some sweets?
“Here, let’s get you checked out. So, word travels fast. You’re the new owner of the Sea Turtle.”
“I am. Well, technically I’ve been the owner for a long time, but I only just found that I owned it. That’s more accurate.”
“Ah, that’s quite a discovery! Well, rest assured the Riveras have done a lovely job in your stead. Even if you didn’t know it was in your stead.”
“Yes, they’re wonderful. Just trying to lift the burden a little today for the Grand Finale.”
“Ah, so you’re going to need a few pastries. I’m going to call Erica and be sure she brings some along.”
My thoughts exactly. “Oh, thank you, that’s wonderful. So, how long have you been here at Moe’s?”
“I’m Kent Churchill. Moe was my grandpa, so I’ve been helping out here for my entire life, with about a fifteen-year detour in Seattle.”
“Do you know who owned the Sea Turtle before, say, the 1980s?”
“Can’t say that I do, but don’t Jorge and Didi?”
“Ah, they just work with a management company, which I also can’t track down.”
“Well, you can always go to the county. I happen to know that any property records, deed transfers, and what not are sketchy before 2006 around here. Trust me on that. Tried to add a loading dock back there. Confusion over who owned about twenty feet took me more time to sort than I care to admit.”
“So, how did you sort it, if I may ask?”
Kent scanned her items and gently placed them on the short conveyor belt. “County records are at the admin building. It’s on Palmetto Road. They should be able to look it up. Mine was on microfiche. But I did find them and prove that I did actually own my parking lot. Thank you, Grandpa Moe! He owned the next-door neighbor’s parking lot, too. Which is in my back pocket for a drive-through window I’m working on.” He put a finger to his temple and tapped it.
Ali laughed and said, “Thanks for the info, I appreciate it.”
“Of course, the mom-and-pop owners around here have to stick together. Essential to survival with all the big condo Godzillas.”
“Oh, I’m really here to just settle this up. I live in Toledo.” Ali still didn’t see herself as the owner.
“Ah, well, at least you’re all set for the Grand Finale, and don’t worry. I’ll get Erica to rush some goodies over too. Don’t want you left without sugar for the guests. It’s their vacation!”
“Totally! Thank you again.”
Ali made a mental note to pay a visit to the county offices and then hustled back to the Sea Turtle. She realized she didn’t have a kitchenette anymore, thanks to giving up the Key Lime. She scanned the hooks on the wall behind the desk in the management office cottage.
Key Lime and Blueberry were taken, and Mango was a mess. That left the Lemon Love Shack, the Pink Lady, and the Strawberry something or other. From her earlier inspection, she knew the state of each of them. All the cottages had the same amenities, just some were in better shape than others. The Lemon Love Shack was the other cottage closest to the beach.
Well, let’s give the Lemon Love Shack a whirl.
She loaded her grocery bags onto the luggage trolley, along with the trays she’d scrounged from the storeroom in the office and hoped for the best.
Ali opened the door of the Lemon Love Shack. The sun was golden now and it lit the place in a way the Instagram kids would envy.
“Wow, Golden Hour, I guess.”
She didn’t have much time. She surveyed the kitchenette and the table. She’d stocked everything she’d need to prepare the snacks. And before long, her charcuterie boards were looking respectable. A quick check in the cupboard revealed a nice big plastic bowl for the kids’ crackers and snacks. She tested the little fridge, and while it seemed to be making a noise like it might give up at any moment, the interior was cold.
“Okay, hang in there a few more hours, please,” she instructed the fridge.
She covered her snack boards with Saran Wrap and popped them in the fridge, doing a good once over to be sure there weren’t any geckos also in residence. Satisfied that the Lemon Love Shack needed reno but not a demo, she stored her snack creations. Next she decided to look around the grounds for chairs and anything else the Grand Finale might need to make it special for the guests.
Ali walked into the courtyard of the Sea Turtle. Nothing to be done about the green pool, and the ocean horizon was the star anyway.
She roamed the little courtyard, picked up a few errant palm fronds, and realized the place also probably needed some major landscaping. Faye would go bananas if allowed to run amok in this little green jungle.
The fact was, Ali needed a real estate agent in here, soon. She needed an appraisal to decide how to proceed. Each broken-down piece of the place probably lowered its value. The more she looked, the more its disrepair revealed itself. Poor Jorge probably hated the idea that so much needed to be done. But it was a huge job for someone of his age. Instead of feeling guilty that I’m going to sell , Ali thought, maybe I should consider that they’ll be grateful. They’re both past retirement age. Way past.
Back in the office, Ali explored a big storeroom area. There were labeled bins and remnants of perfectly organized shelving and storage. But there was also a fair amount of chaos.
At every turn at the Sea Turtle, she could see how Jorge and Didi used to do things versus how they now seemed to be barely scraping by.
She could spend all day in the storeroom, organizing and sorting. But there was no time. The guests were here, and that had to be the focus.
Ali moved things around a bit and discovered just what she had in mind.
Lights!
Ali looked at her phone. There was enough time, she hoped, to do this little bit extra for the guests’ first night. In short order, she sat on the ground in the courtyard with several tangled strings of white Christmas lights.
“Oh, how, ugh. Where’s the end?” she grumbled to herself, or so she thought.
“Come again?”
Ali jumped a bit in her spot.
But it was only Henry, with several bottles of wine. “I brought the fun, see? No worries about having enough wine. I hear you’re pinch-hitting on the Grand Finale.”
“News travels fast. How’d you hear?”
“Moe told Erica, and she called me. You probably have it under control, but you know, a bottle of wine never hurts. And a co-pilot on your first Grand Finale, well, if you need one. I humbly offer my services.”
He did a courtly bow, and Ali’s frustration with untangling the Christmas lights turned to gratitude.
“I gratefully accept,” she said and returned his bow with a regal nod and hand gesture.
“Okay, so you also need my expertise in the light department. That’s painfully clear.”
“Expertise?”
“I can reach the high branches.”
“Ah, yes, that would be good since I have no clue where Jorge keeps the ladder.”
Henry offered her a hand to help her up. She put her hand in his. And a frisson of attraction zipped through her like a shot of espresso. Wow. But Ali quickly shuddered that little distraction away. Number one, she had a husband—well, barely, but still, vows were vows, to her at least—and two, Henry wasn’t hitting on her. He was being a good neighbor! She focused on the task at hand, the stupid tangled lights.
“Are you sure? It’s maddening.” She lifted the wad of bulbs toward her knight in sandy flip-flops.
“I can take it.”
She gave him a wadded-up string, and he got to work. He had significantly more success with his strand than she did with hers.
“See, I’ve got skills.”
“I got that one started for you,” Ali replied.
The two had fun untangling the lights and stringing them about the base of the palms in the courtyard. The irritation she’d felt at the start of her little light project evaporated into something like giddy fun. This was fun. This was the same fun as decking the halls for Christmas or creating a cool display in the convention center. She liked creating experiences, and it appeared Henry did too!
“I have to say, not something I thought I’d be doing on my fact-finding trip. But it looks incredible!”
The already charming common area of the Sea Turtle Inn was now twinkling in the late afternoon sun. This is so cute! It was no kingdom of magic one could experience in Orlando, but it was a little nook of magic, and she’d made it so.
“You have a good eye for creating beautiful things, just like Didi.”
“That’s a high compliment,” Ali said, and she meant it. Didi, in short order, had made Ali feel like part of the Sea Turtle family. Even if the older woman wasn’t up to the physical tasks that the place required, she’d welcomed Ali with open arms. The thought filled her with a spike of guilt. She was about to pull the rug out from under this little magic carpet ride.
Henry helped her get the food and chairs sorted and soon, Erica arrived with all manner of cookies for the kiddos.
“This is so helpful. What do I owe you both, truly? I appreciate this so much, and so will the guests.”
“Girl, these are my extras,” Erica said as Henry poured her a glass of white. “I let the staff take home a half dozen of whatever we don’t sell so our cookies are always fresh. You’re not paying for what I already give away.”
“I will ask for payment on the wine,” Henry added, “which includes me using the washer and dryer next week. Mine is on the fritz. I’m on my last three pairs of antique jeans.”
Ali nodded. “Deal.”
She looked toward the beach and then back to the little alcove of chairs and food and good people. For a brief moment, Ali allowed herself to imagine what a lovely life it would be, sitting here every night.
“Can we go in? Can we go in?”
Ali’s imagination was interrupted by the laughter and pleas of the Hafner and Noble children hopping toward the water.
“You’re kidding? You were in all day!” Doreen Noble shook her head, but Brock Noble stepped up. “I’ll keep an eye. Let’s go!”
The five cousins ran toward the water. Doreen, along with her sister Kerry and Kerry’s husband Dale, approached the little spread of food and drink.
“Welcome to the Grand Finale,” Ali announced. “White?”
Both moms nodded, and Dale decided on a beer, which Ali had set in a cooler. She was mindful of the fact that not everyone was a wine drinker. Her dad never let anything but Bud Light lubricate his downtime.
“Take a load off, ladies,” Ali said, and the moms gratefully sat in the beach chairs. More beachgoers trickled toward them, and so did a few more local business owners.
Erica introduced her to a man who rented beach equipment, a woman who owned a hair salon a few blocks over, and then Kent Churchill from Moe’s arrived.
They all greeted each other warmly and exchanged highlights of their day.
It was an informal business owner of Haven Beach get-together, and Ali got to be a fly on the wall. They talked about everything from a repaving of a nearby street to a new condo proposal for a vacant lot around the block.
“Oh, did you hear that Ford Taylor’s house is set to be done this month?”
That caught her ear.
“Is that the Ford Taylor I think it is?”
“If you think it’s the one who has a billion-dollar fashion and home décor line, then yes,” Erica said.
“Wow.” Ali was impressed. She’d met all these amazing business owners but none of them seemed like they were used to having billionaires in their midst.
“He bought two older beach cottages, side by side, tore them down—what, four years ago—and has been constructing a behemoth mansion. It’s about a quarter mile that way,” Kent explained.
“Yeah, I heard he may be living in it full time. A nasty divorce, his ex is getting—what did the tabloid say—oh yeah, their Manhattan apartment and some house in the Hamptons. So, he’ll be homeless if he doesn’t get the beach house done,” Erica informed them.
“Well, I hope he likes crab cakes,” Henry said. “I think my waitresses would appreciate tips from a billionaire.”
The conversation moved on to other topics and goings on in Haven Beach. Ali made a mental note to look for the fancy house on her next beach walk.
And slowly, the idea of getting out of here tomorrow or the next day, morphed into maybe she’d need an extra week.
“Whoo hoo! Look, look!” One of the Hafner kids was pointing to the stunning horizon. A dolphin, as if on cue, breached out of the water and playfully splashed back down.
“Cheers to you.” Henry clinked his wine glass in Ali’s direction.
“What?”
“That dolphin was a pretty darn good finishing touch for your first Grand Finale.”
“Oh, well, you know, I just let him know we wanted it perfect for our Sea Turtle guests,” Ali joked.
The sunset and the assembled group of vacationers and locals clapped and cheered. The sunset did not disappoint, and Ali felt good that neither had the Sea Turtle, thanks to her work and a little help from her new friends.