Lunch at The Beach House Hotel
CHAPTER ONE
I’d just stepped out of the shower when my business partner, Rhonda—Rhonda DelMonte Grayson, as she proudly called herself—phoned in a tizzy.
“Annie, you’ve got to get over here right away. Something’s come up.”
She hung up before I could ask her about it, but I knew I’d better get moving. In the hotel business, there were a lot of “somethings”—some good, some bad.
My mind whirled with possibilities as I quickly dried off and dressed. After brushing my hair and dabbing on some lipstick, I took a moment to put on the chain and pendant Vaughn Sanders had given me. He wouldn’t return from filming for another six weeks, and I missed him like crazy. The gold pendant spoke of so many things. His initial V formed one side of my A. Across the middle of it was a bar with five diamonds—a symbol of us, our collective three children, and the hope that we’d all share a life together.
I left my house on the hotel property and headed toward the hotel. Warm air wrapped around me, caressing my skin in silky strokes, and I joyfully inhaled the tang of the salty air. After living most of my life in Boston, I relished the tropical setting along the Gulf Coast of Southwest Florida.
As I approached the front of The Beach House Hotel, I paused to stare at the beachside estate Rhonda and I had turned into a small, upscale hotel. The pale-pink-stucco, two-story building spread before me at the water’s edge like a palace, regal and splendid. Wide steps led to carved-wood, double doors that invited guests inside. Potted palms sat on either side of the doorway, adding a tropical elegance to the entry. Along the front of the hotel, brilliant pink hibiscus blossoms vied for attention with bougainvillea and other colorful plantings and softened the lines of the building.
Gratitude filled me.
In the troubling days following my ex’s dumping me for his receptionist—Kandie with a K as she called herself—I would never have imagined being part owner of such a beautiful place. We’d started out better than expected, but the fear of failing kept me working day and night to make sure the hotel succeeded. So many didn’t. And though I loved Rhonda, it was sometimes frustrating to be left with most of the detailed, follow-up work she disliked. Doing it as cheerfully as I could while she stayed busy doing the most-fun stuff was a way to pay her back for all she’d done to help me.
Rhonda appeared at the top of the stairway. Dressed in one of the light-weight, colorful caftans she loved to wear, she urged me forward, flapping the green sleeves of her dress like a tropical bird about to take flight. Or more like the early bird who got the worm, I thought wryly, as I got a closer look at the grin on her face.
She placed her hands on her ample hips and shook her head at me. “Annie Rutherford, how can you look so freakin’ beautiful and put together at this early hour? I swear, if you weren’t my best friend, I’d hate your guts.”
I laughed. Rhonda was known for speaking her mind. It was amazing we even got along—we were as different as two people could be. My strict grandmother, who’d raised me after my parents died, would shiver in her blue-blooded Boston grave at the language Rhonda used. I’d gotten used to it, which was a good thing because Rhonda didn’t even notice it. She’d come from a loud, Italian family in New Jersey.
“What’s up?” I asked. “It better be good. I haven’t even had my coffee yet.”
“Oh, it’s good all right. We have a decision to make—an important one that can’t wait.”
“And?” I prompted, giving Rhonda a dubious look.
“And I promised Valentina Marquis’ agent we’d call her right back. She’s at LAX, ready to put Valentina on a private jet to us.”
“Oh, no!” My heart thudded with dismay. “Are you talking about the same Valentina Marquis who co-starred with Vaughn in that awful short film, the one he tried to get out of several times?”
Rhonda nodded. “The very same one. But, Annie, this could mean a lot of business for us.”
As usual, talk of new business stopped me cold. Overseeing the finances of the hotel consumed me. At best, the hotel business was a series of ups and downs, fluctuating as bookings rose and fell. At worst, I had invested every cent of mine into my share of the business. Weather, dates of holidays, and fierce competition affected bookings for rooms reservations, which created a lot of uncertainty.
“Okay, you’d better tell me about it. Why does Valentina’s agent want her to come here?”
An even bigger grin spread across Rhonda’s face. Beneath her bleached-blond hair, her dark eyes sparkled with mischief. “You won’t believe it! She’s going to be shooting a movie in two months and has eight weeks to lose twenty-five pounds.”
I frowned. “How’s Valentina going to do that here? We’re known for our delicious cuisine.”
“The agent has requested us to provide a trainer to stay with Valentina, to keep an eye on her, and to guide her physical training. Because our guests know that The Beach House Hotel assures them total privacy, she figures the director and producer won’t find out what shape Valentina is in before she loses the weight. Cool, huh?”
“I’m not sure.” Vaughn, sweet guy that he is, had ranted and raved about Valentina’s prima donna attitude on the movie set. He’d declared her self-absorption and treatment of the people around her deplorable.
“It could be a bit tricky,” admitted Rhonda, “but it’s been a really slow fall season for us.”
I couldn’t deny it. In the past, we’d had a lot of VIP guests from the world of politics, but, with the latest mess in Washington, they’d been forced to stay put. Not that I minded all that much. The politicians were as egotistical as any movie star.
“Okay, let’s call her back,” I said reluctantly. Her visit could boost our cash flow, and who couldn’t use a better bottom line?
On the way to our office, which sat behind the kitchen, I stopped and grabbed a cup of coffee along with one of Rhonda’s famous breakfast rolls. Sweet and buttery, filled with cinnamon and nuts, their enticing aroma filled the air. These breakfast rolls had been instrumental in promoting the culinary reputation of the hotel since we opened it a little over a year ago.
After sipping my refreshing hot coffee, I carried it and the roll into the office and sat at my desk. A sigh of pleasure escaped me as I bit into the soft, warm breakfast sweet.
Seated opposite me, Rhonda dialed the number the agent had given her . I listened carefully as she informed Valentina’s agent that we’d be delighted to have Valentina stay with us.
Rhonda stopped talking and then said, “Please hold. I’ll check to see if we can make those arrangements.” She turned to me. “Is it okay if I offer her the lower rooms at the far end of the hotel? If we give her rooms #101 and #102, Valentina will have the privacy her agent says she needs.”
I quickly checked our online reservations system. “How long does Valentina’s agent want her to use the rooms?”
“They want ’em for the full eight weeks, starting today. That takes us up to the Thanksgiving weekend.”
I quickly looked at the reservations list. “We’ll have to move a few people around, but we can do it.” There were no full-house, wedding weekends planned during that time. Only smaller groups.
After she assured Valentina’s agent she’d take care of everything, Rhonda hung up with a sigh. “It sounds as if this situation hasn’t been easy for anybody. Valentina is getting on a plane within the next moment or two. We’re to hire a personal trainer and meet her at the airport. She’ll be traveling under the name Tina Marks, which I understand is her real name. And that’s not all. I’ve agreed not only to provide special meals for her but to keep her out of the spotlight, so no one even guesses she’s here.”
“Okay, that’s settled then,” I said, suddenly overcome by the horrible feeling that this might be one of the biggest mistakes Rhonda and I had ever made together. And there’d been a few.
###
Tim McFarland, our young assistant manager, agreed to pick up Jerry Brighton, the personal trainer we’d hired through an agency, and to drive him in the limo to the airport to pick up Tina.
Rhonda and I stayed at the hotel to discuss the details of Tina’s upcoming stay. Then I began my daily ritual of reviewing revenue reports, staffing schedules, and reservations to update my forecast. The sales weren’t as strong as I’d hoped, emphasizing how important Tina’s stay was to us. I resolved to make her visit go well. In addition to paying for the rooms, her agent was paying a hefty price for the hotel to cook special, low-calorie meals for Tina and her trainer.
###
I’d finished making some financial projections when Tim called from the limo to say he was approaching the hotel with our guest. As part of our normal routine, Rhonda and I went to the front stairway to greet them. From the hotel’s beginning, it was something we’d done as often as we could. Our guests liked it.
Rhonda and I were standing by the front door in our usual stations when Tim pulled the limo into the front circle.
“Here goes,” Rhonda said, giving me a high five.
As the car came to a stop, we watched closely.
Tim got out and raced around the limo to open the passenger door.
A foot encased in a high-heeled, gold sandal emerged. A young woman quickly followed, dressed in a denim skirt so short I knew she was wearing a thong. Her white tank-top indicated she wasn’t wearing a bra.
My gaze lifted to her face. Large sunglasses hid most of it. Blue hair piled in a knot atop her head added a few inches to her height but couldn’t hide the fact that she was short and … well, wider than normal in places … for a movie star.
We started down the stairs.
“Welcome …” I started my spiel.
“What a dump,” Tina said, cupping her hands around her sunglasses for a better view in the sunlight. “I asked for a big, fancy, glittery place if I have to do this stupid Hollywood thing.”
Beneath her normal tan, Rhonda’s face turned red.
I held my breath. Nobody bad-mouthed the hotel in front of Rhonda.
“That little brat,” Rhonda murmured.
I grabbed hold of her arm. “Don’t!”
She jerked her arm out of my hand and hurried down the rest of the stairway, her caftan flying behind her in a cloud of green.
Knowing what was coming, I raced past her. Tina might be a gigantic boor, but we would welcome her properly as my grandmother had taught me.
“Welcome to The Beach House Hotel,” I said, elbowing my way in front of Rhonda.
A bald, muscular giant emerged from the car, looking like the smiling ad man on television who told viewers all about his cleaning products. Standing beside Tina, his bulk made her seem smaller than ever.
“I’m Jerry Brighton, the one you hired to keep tabs on Tina.” Turning to Rhonda, he smiled. “This place is beautiful.”
The lines of distress left Rhonda’s face. She returned his smile. “Thank you. I’m Rhonda DelMonte Grayson, and this is my partner, Annie Rutherford. Among other things, The Beach House Hotel has a reputation for good service; we’re here to help you in any way we can.”
“Great,” he said.
Tina’s red-painted lips formed a pout as she glared at us. “I don’t need anyone watching over me. I can do this myself. And nobody can know I’m here at this fat farm,” said Tina. “That would ruin me.”
Rhonda drew herself up.
This time, I knew I couldn’t stop her.
Hands on hips, Rhonda stared down Tina. “This is not a fat farm. This hotel is a lovely place where guests can find some of the finest food in Southwest Florida.” She paused for emphasis. “If they’re allowed to eat it.”
Tina gasped and stamped a sandaled foot. “That’s it! I’m leaving!” She ruined the effect of her tantrum by teetering on heels too high for her. She regained her balance and turned to climb inside the limo.
In one swift movement, Jerry took hold of Tina’s elbow. “Hold on. Let’s at least give this a try.”
Tina’s shoulders slumped in defeat, allowing me to see a vulnerability that touched me. It couldn’t be easy for someone so young to have so many demands made of her.
“Okay. I’ll show you to your rooms,” said Tim, who up to now had been standing aside wringing his hands. He urged them forward.
After Jerry and Tina had followed him into the hotel, Rhonda gave me a sheepish look.
“I’m sorry, Annie, but that little brat deserves more than a scolding. She deserves a spanking.”
“No wonder Vaughn found it so difficult to work with Tina,” I said. “I hope this isn’t how she’s going to act for the whole eight weeks.”
A frown creased Rhonda’s brow. “We can do this, can’t we? Keep Tina here and get her thin?”
“We’re going to try our best,” I said with determination, “but, Rhonda, she won’t be our only guest. We’ll have to keep everyone else happy too.”
“Eight weeks seems like a long time, huh?”
I nodded. “More like an eternity.”
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