CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I walked into the office, carrying a cup of coffee and a sweet roll. “Good morning, chef!” I teased. “Dinner last night was spectacular as always and Darryl, Emma, and Rand wanted me to thank you again for it.”
“You’re just who I wanted to see,” said Rhonda. “I want the complete lowdown on everyone. Are Emma and Rand hitting it off as well as I think? Is Abbie coming back here? What’s going on?”
I took a seat at my desk, sipped my coffee, and said, “Abbie is returning, and Emma and Rand really like one another.”
Rhonda leaned forward. “Okay, they were the headlines. Now I need details.”
“Coming up.” I filled Rhonda in on my conversation with Darryl at dinner and then told her, “He’s calling Abbie today and inviting her to come and stay at the house with him.”
“You’re right,” said Rhonda. “If they’re going to make a relationship work, they have to be together through thick and thin.”
I gave her a thoughtful nod as I took a bite of the cinnamon roll.” “Ah, this is just what I needed.”
“Okay, now tell me about Emma and Rand,” said Rhonda.
I reiterated what Emma had told me, allowing myself to think about the two of them realistically. “It could work. They’re both at a time in their lives when they know what they want and need. If you had seen the looks they gave each other this morning, you’d not doubt their attraction.”
Rhonda rested her head in her hand. “You know, I’m really amazing. I somehow know when a relationship can work. I’ve pegged both of these latest ones.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. It made Rhonda happy to think she had arranged for these growing relationships to happen. If she helped things along by giving dinner parties and such, all the better.
“We have a small, VIP dinner party for the governor of Florida and three other governors from neighboring states tonight,” said Rhonda. “Annette and Bernie are both off today, and Lorraine is going to help make sure everything is set the way we want. I’ll handle the cocktail hour and you’d already agreed to be present for their private dinner. Are you still okay with those plans?”
“Sure. It’ll be like the old days when we did everything ourselves. Let’s see what Lorraine has written down for the event.”
“They’re flying in today and leaving late tomorrow. Room reservations are all set for them,” said Rhonda, rising and following me to Lorraine’s office.
“Hello,” said Lorraine cheerfully. Since marrying Arthur Smythe, Reggie’s father, thanks to Rhonda’s pressure, she seemed to glow with happiness.
“We’re here to check on the private arrangements for the governor’s group,” I said.
Lorraine lifted a folder off her desk. “I’ve got the details here. I understand you, Rhonda, will be overseeing the cocktail party, and you, Ann, will handle the private dinner.”
Rhonda and I nodded.
“Jean-Luc is already prepping part of their meal. The department heads have been notified, and the VIP pictures posted on the staff bulletin board,” said Lorraine.
“Have you assigned someone to give the governors a tour of the property?” I asked. Our state governor and his wife were well-acquainted with the hotel. Their daughter had even been married here. But we always liked for special guests to be shown the property. It was not only a good PR move, but it made them feel especially welcome.
“Yes, Laura is going to do that,” said Lorraine. “She’s such an asset to my staff.”
“Great,” said Rhonda. “Thanks for handling this for us.”
“Anything we should know about these guests?” I asked. “Any food allergies, dislikes, etc. for dinner?”
“Nothing that hasn’t been cleared with Jean-Luc,” said Lorraine.
Satisfied that things were under control, Rhonda and I returned to our office to discuss the PR advertising program Liz and Angie had set up for social media. Having had a person die at the hotel and another guest “outed” for his private marriage, we needed to keep the “positives” before the public.
We sat waiting for our daughters to arrive. The day would come when our roles would be reversed, but for now, having them do small projects for us was satisfying for us all.
Liz and Angie arrived together, looking like healthy, young, active mothers in their short skirts and knit tops. A closer look allowed me to see how tired they were from handling their toddlers. But their spirits were high as they took seats at the small conference table in our office.
Liz, tall, with blonde hair, and Angie, short, with dark curly hair, were best of friends. I found it interesting that as far as personalities went, Liz was more outgoing like Rhonda, while Angie was more like me, taking care of details.
“Okay, we liked the graphics and videos you came up with. Now, tell us about the marketing plan,” I said.
“Well, as you suggested, we wanted to attack the privacy issue and the positives of staying at the hotel,” said Angie, pulling out a folder from her small computer carrying case.
“We also had to identify different markets for your guests,” said Liz.
Angie gave Rhonda and me a sheet of paper listing the type of guests we had. Among them were those taking advantage of the young mother’s retreat, the spa specials, weddings, anniversaries, etc.
“Then we listed the social media sites most would use,” said Angie. “Because many of your guests are older, we knew they wouldn’t use TikTok, X, and other sites younger guests might use. So, we came up with a few news releases for travel bloggers.”
“Those will do especially well as the weather changes up north,” Liz said. “But we can handle the social media sites ourselves for a very reasonable cost.”
“The PR company we use will be able to take care of advertising with your input,” said Rhonda, sitting back as Angie demonstrated the various posts they’d created.
“They’re great,” I said with genuine enthusiasm. “Let’s get started.”
“Yes,” said Rhonda. “We don’t want to wait.”
“Okay,” said Angie, sliding a contract across the table for us to sign.
Seeing it, I was pleased by how professional these two women were. When the time came to do it, I think they’d be excellent taking over for us. But neither they nor we were ready.
“Shall we have some lunch?” I said, after signing the contract.
“I’d love to,” said Angie.
“And while I have someone watching the T’s, I want time to do some shopping,” Liz said. “Maybe we can have a quick bite here?”
“Sounds fine with me,” I said, and Rhonda agreed.
“Let’s take our food up to the balcony in the Presidential Suite,” I said. “It’s private and beautiful.”
“Wait! Isn’t that where that woman died?” asked Liz.
“Yes, but any weird feelings about that have disappeared after Lily Dorio stayed there,” I said. “Let’s give that space some of our love to make ourselves comfortable about renting it out.”
“Annie’s right. It’s too beautiful to let a bad memory take over,” said Rhonda. “Luckily, no other guests were aware of what happened there.” She chuckled. “If I feel safe, you should too. You know how sensitive I am about those things.”
“I do know,” said Angie. “Remember when you thought you saw a ghost in the hotel right after you bought it, and it turned out to be a bird?”
I joined in the laughter, pleased that we’d make the Presidential Suite right again.
###
Sitting with our daughters on the balcony overlooking the side garden, I breathed in the sweet air and studied the scene below. It was a perfect spot for a wedding. One we often used. It had taken a few growing seasons to turn it from a simple lawn into the garden it was today.
“Mom, you should hear the T’s say their alphabets. It’s adorable,” said Liz.
I focused on the conversation as it turned to talking about the six grandchildren Rhonda and I had. It was such a joy to have our families close by.
When the girls got up to leave, I turned to Rhonda, “I’m going to go home. I’ll be back in time for the dinner tonight at seven.”
“I’ll check on a couple of things and then I’m out of here until five.”
I called Housekeeping to take care of the suite and headed to my house, ready for a break. Vaughn understood when I had to work in the evening, but I always tried to balance that commitment with extra time for him.
###
That evening, I stood aside as the specially selected staff members served the four men in the small reserved dining room. Allowing political guests to meet in private had helped grow the hotel’s business. In the beginning, I‘d been the one to oversee the dinners, assuring the diners that any information overheard would remain privileged.
It had amazed me what was taking place behind the scenes—the maneuvering, compromises, and deals. But I soon learned that even that information turned out not to be true. In any case, I could never discuss it with anyone else.
Governor Horne from Florida thanked me as three men and one woman rose after dinner. “It’s always a pleasure to be here at The Beach House Hotel. Lorna and I want to come for a restful stay before the holidays.”
“It’s our pleasure for Rhonda and me to have you here,” I responded as the other members of the group gathered around us to thank me.
They left, and after seeing that the staff would take care of cleaning up, I drove home, lost in memories of such dinners in the past. Never would I have imagined having such a glamorous life. I thought of my blessings and hurried home.