Sea Breezes at The Beach House Hotel (The Beach House Hotel #12)

CHAPTER ONE

One bright, sunny morning in late November, I sat with my best friend and business partner, Rhonda Grayson, in our office at The Beach House Hotel on Florida's Gulf Coast. We were going over preparations for the holidays.

Thanksgiving was a big event for guests and locals alike.

Early on the morning of the day after Thanksgiving, the hotel would be transformed with Christmas holiday decorations everywhere on the property.

“High Season” lasted from that time until Easter, and we, along with our staff, were caught up in a whirlwind as we ran the hotel.

My cell phone rang, and I eagerly answered it. Vaughn’s daughter, Nell.

“Hi, Darling. How are you? I can’t wait until you and Clint and the kids get here for Thanksgiving.”

I listened to her, growing increasingly concerned as she explained she would be driving alone with her two children. Due to an important business deal, Clint would fly in on Thanksgiving and leave the next day

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “Your father will be disappointed that he and Clint won’t have time for sailing.”

Nell spoke to me in a flurry of angry words and then stopped, letting out a tortured sigh. “I really need to talk to you, Ann. Will you promise me some moments alone?”

“Of course. I hate to hear you sounding so unhappy.”

“It’ll be great to be in Sabal with you and Dad,” Nell said. “I’d better go. I’ll let you know when I get close to town.”

We ended the call, and I sat staring into space, feeling uneasy.

“Is Nell okay?” Rhonda asked me. She loved Nell.

“She and the kids are traveling to Florida this weekend for Thanksgiving week. I’m thrilled they’re coming, but I’m worried about her. She seemed depressed, even angry.”

Rhonda gave me a sympathetic look. “Aw, Annie, all she needs is to get away from D.C. and enjoy some of our sea breezes. That will help straighten out her life.”

“I hope you’re right because it’s unlike Nell to be so down. I’m sure it has something to do with Clint, but I didn’t want to have that kind of discussion with her over the phone. She wants some privacy with me when she gets here.”

“She’s always wanted her family to move to Sabal. It would be much easier for everyone to be together. She and Liz are close, too, which would make it nice for both of them,” said Rhonda.

“Right now, I need to concentrate on being supportive.” I shook my head. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Rhonda said. “I’m sorry. How about taking a stroll with me on the beach? I could use a break.”

Walking on the beach was a way for Rhonda and me to talk in private, as long as we didn’t run into our neighbor, Brock Goodwin, the president of the Neighborhood Association.

We left the office, and I breathed in the salty tang of the air. It was a cool, late November morning. At this time of year, weather changes were to be expected, but I knew the day would soon warm to a very pleasant temperature.

We took off our shoes and stepped onto the sand.

Standing near the lacy edge of the water, I lifted my face to the sun, loving the gentle sea breeze that caressed my cheeks.

The sound of the waves meeting the shore and pulling away helped me to relax.

That soothing movement was as old as time, but it always worked for me.

Seagulls and terns above us swirled in the wind, their cries telling a story of their own.

“Whenever I stand back and look at our hotel, I can’t believe we own it,” said Rhonda, throwing her arm across my shoulder. Lying next to the shore, The Beach House Hotel resembled a lazy Roseate Spoonbill with its pink surface and sweet curves.

I smiled at her. “We’ve both worked hard at making it succeed.”

“A lot of people didn’t believe we could do it,” said Rhonda. “But we’ll keep going until our daughters take over for us.”

“With Angela and Liz raising our grandchildren, it won’t happen very soon. But the thought is tantalizing.”

“Who would’ve thunk we’d be this successful?” said Rhonda, grinning at me.

“It certainly hasn’t been a breeze, but all the work has been worth it. Especially because it’s been you and me as a team from the beginning.”

“You know, Annie, I knew we’d be a match because we’re very different,” said Rhonda.

“I’ll say.” After my parents were killed in an automobile accident, I was raised in Boston by a strict grandmother, who would be appalled by the changes in my life.

Rhonda grew up in a loving family in a tough neighborhood in New Jersey.

Though I’d gotten used to Rhonda’s colorful language, it still sometimes surprised me.

“Do you remember how you told me not to be so beige when we first met?” I asked her.

“Aw-w-w, you know I just wanted to help you make some changes after your divorce,” Rhonda said. “I knew I could never be as classy as you, but I could show you a fun time.”

We laughed together. Rhonda was my best friend, and I loved her.

We strolled along the sand, talking about the high teas we were planning for our high season. We’d started offering them after a guest had demanded them, and now they were part of our winter season festivities.

I stared down at the footprints that sanderlings and sandpipers had left behind in the sand at the edge of the water. I loved the little signs that they’d been there.

Rhonda nudged me and hissed, “Oh no! Here he comes.”

Lifting my head, I stared at Brock Goodwin, surprised to see him here at this time of day. It was too late to try to move away. We were stuck.

“Hello, ladies,” said Brock, hurrying up to us.

“You’re just the people I needed to see.

My import business has just received a supply of spectacular fireworks for New Year’s Eve celebrations, along with a variety of Christmas decorations.

I can offer you a discount on them if you place your order right away. They’re going fast.”

As enticing as it sounded, Rhonda and I looked at each other and shook our heads.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” I said.

“Hotels and condo buildings up and down the beach have ordered some,” said Brock. “Afraid you can’t compete?”

“As you surely learned from the Italian restaurant business you were associated with, we don’t have to compete,” said Rhonda.

“So, I made a mistake,” said Brock, trying to shrug it off as the truth trapped him. He’d lost money helping a chef attempt to hurt our business.

“More than one mistake,” said Rhonda. “See ya later.”

Brock stood breathing heavily with frustration, and then he turned and walked away, his feet childishly pounding the sand.

“It’s a nice idea to have fireworks,” I said. “Too bad we can’t trust him.”

“I’ll never be able to trust him,” said Rhonda. “He’s a total jackass. Besides, there are all those liability issues with setting off fireworks.”

“True. We don’t need those expenses.”

We stood facing one another. Our morning walk was ruined. Brock always wanted to find a way to harm us and our business.

###

That evening, I spoke to Vaughn about my concerns with Nell. “It’s not like her to be depressed and out of sorts. I can’t wait for her to come here, where I can really talk to her as she wants.”

“I’m grateful you and she have a close relationship,” said Vaughn, handing me a glass of red wine as we sat on the lanai. “I don’t like it when our children are having problems.”

“She and Clint have been married for over ten years now. Maybe they need to revive their relationship. With their visit, perhaps we can offer to have the kids stay here with us while Nell and Clint go off by themselves.”

“I’ll be home for a while and should be able to help with that,” said Vaughn.

“Let’s wait and see what the situation is before we make plans.

Nell will be here in a couple of days. On a brighter note, I heard from Nicholas Swain.

He’s going to send me a script to look at for a movie he’s working on.

He and Tina are coming to The Beach House Hotel for Christmas. He wants me to take him sailing.”

“Oh, how nice. I didn’t notice their name on the reservations list. But I’m thrilled they’ll be here.” Tina Marks was a young movie star whom Rhonda and I helped soon after we opened the hotel. She’d become like a daughter to us.

“Nicholas said they’d reserved a guesthouse under a different name,” said Vaughn. “After the kidnapping incident with their son, they don’t travel anywhere unless it’s under an assumed name for protection.”

“That makes sense,” I said, remembering how Rhonda and I had been involved in saving her son.

My cell phone chimed. Tina Marks.

“Hi,” I said cheerfully. “Vaughn and I were just discussing you and Nicholas. I understand you will be here at the hotel for the Christmas holidays. I can’t wait to see you.”

We chatted for several minutes and then Tina said, “With both boys in school, I’m finding myself with some extra time. I’m hoping to come more often to Florida to be with you and Rhonda.”

“We’d love it. Better watch out or we’ll put you to work,” I teased.

“Sounds terrific. I haven’t found a new movie role that interests me. Besides, at my age, it’s hard to find appropriate ones,” Tina said.

“Your age? You’re not even forty,” I said.

“Pretty close. That’s what I mean,” Tina said. “Gotta go. See you in a few weeks.”

I ended the call and turned to Vaughn. “Tina says she’s having difficulty finding movie roles because of her age. It’s very unfair, Men supposedly age gracefully, but women have to look as if they’re in their twenties or early thirties to find work.”

“That’s true enough to be a problem,” admitted Vaughn. “Hopefully, that will change. Tina is a very talented actress.”

“Her mother got her started in movies when she was a young teen and put her in situations where she was taken advantage of and sexually abused to get parts in films for her.”

“It’s a creepy business for both men and women,” said Vaughn, pulling me onto his lap. “I’d always give you a part in any film I was making.”