Margaritas at the Beach House Hotel

by Judith Keim

  “All right, but I’d hate for anyone in his neighborhood to catch sight of their comings and goings,” he said.

  My stomach churned. “You mean someone like Brock Goodwin?”

  He grimaced and nodded. “He’s often an early-morning walker on the beach. Who’s to say he wouldn’t see anything going on here at the hotel?”

  “I see your point. How’s the progress on installing the gate between the beach and us?”

  “Because it’s a special size, there’s been a bit of a delay,” Bernie said. “But I’ll call them this morning and make sure things are moving along.”

  “Good, because the last thing we need is for Brock or anyone else to poke around.” The thought sent a shiver through me. “After I look at the Presidential Suite, I’m going to walk over to the guesthouse and tell them our thoughts.”

  I left his office and climbed the stairs to the second floor. We’d converted Rhonda’s original master suite into the Presidential Suite after she moved out following her marriage to Will.

  I unlocked the massive door and walked through the foyer into the main living room. As I stood there, my vision took in the pale blue walls, whose color was repeated in the overstuffed chairs and couches. The plush, cream Oriental rug with accents of blue and red echoed the blue in the sky and the magenta of the bougainvillea viewed through the windows. It was a comfortable, sunny area.

  Nearby, a dining room held a large mahogany table and eight chairs above which a crystal chandelier glittered in the sunlight. An efficient kitchen with top appliances added to the space beside it. The bedroom with its massive bed and private balcony overlooking the beach was another luxurious feature. It could be connected to a standard guest room, providing two bedrooms to those who needed it. The bathroom off the master bedroom was lined with marble on the floor, the walls, and inside the massive shower that could easily handle two.

  Of it all, my favorite spot was the large balcony off the living room that faced the private garden sometimes used by brides for their ceremony. There, the whisper of the wind was a nice relief on a summer day, bringing the tang of salty air with it.

  Giving a last look around, I filled with pride. Darla and her friend should be happy here.

  Satisfied, I left the hotel to head to the guesthouse. My mind spinning, I made my way across the front lawn of the hotel and over to the drive leading to the house. As I walked, a pink hibiscus flower bobbed its head at me, making my lips curve. Manny and his nephew, Paul, waved to me, and I waved back. They did an excellent job of keeping the plants nicely trimmed and weeded.

  Thinking of Manny, I wondered how he and Consuela had enjoyed a few days off. They’d gone to Miami for a wedding and had asked to stay a couple of extra days. Of course, we said yes. Consuela and Manny were the very heart of our original team, more like family than staff. They now enjoyed living on the property, no doubt remembering when the hotel had simply been Rhonda’s sprawling estate.

  I continued my walk up the drive to the home I’d so proudly owned after being left without one by my sly ex-husband. Though the house was now part of the hotel, it still gave me a thrill to see it.

  The moment I arrived at the front door, it was opened, and I faced a large man who studied me intently.

  Debra appeared from behind him. “Don’t mind Whit. He’s just doing his job. How are you, Ann?”

  “A bit worried,” I said honestly. “Can we talk?”

  “Sure, come on in. First, let me introduce you to Whit Evans. Whit, this is Ann Sanders, one of the owners of the hotel.”

  “How do you do?” he responded, giving my offered hand a firm squeeze and looking directly into my eyes.

  “I’m delighted you’re here,” I said, feeling as if I’d been examined and placed onto a list of suspects he’d store in his mind.

  He moved back and waved me inside. “Welcome.”

  I stepped inside, saw Lindsay out by the pool, and gave her a wave. Even from a distance, she looked better, healthier.

  “How’s it going?” I asked Debra.

  She glanced at Whit. “Much better, don’t you think?

  He nodded. “My guess is she’s feeling more secure. The two of us together do a good job of protecting her.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Bernie is concerned about your taking Lindsay in and out of the property so often. He knows you’re going to Jean-Luc’s house to walk on the beach there, but he’s worried there’s a possibility you’ll be seen leaving and returning.”

  Debra gave me a thoughtful look. “I understand. But there’s something very beneficial going on between Lindsay and Jean-Luc. She’s been able to unload a lot of her trauma talking with him. My thought is that it’s worth the risk. Why would a hotel guest bother with us?”

  “That’s just it. It’s those in the neighborhood who might be most curious. One man, in particular. Brock Goodwin.”

  Debra made a note on a piece of paper. “We’ll look into him.”

  “Also, I wanted to tell you that next Sunday, Rhonda and I will be holding our annual spring brunch. The hotel will be overrun by local people. Our staff will be on site after the close of the party, holding their own celebration. You’re invited, of course, but I’m not sure how that would work. We’d be glad to send over a couple of plates of food.”

  Debra glanced at Whit and turned back to me. “We’ll think about it. Thank you.”

  “May I speak to Lindsay?” I asked, curious about the changes in her.

  “Sure,” said Debra. “We’re right here.”

  “Actually, I’m going to take a look around the property, make sure all is in order,” said Whit. “Nice to meet you, Ann.”

  “Yes, nice to meet you too. As I said, we’re glad you’re here. We feel a great responsibility to keep Lindsay safe.”

  “And so do we,” he said, studying me.

  I left them and walked out to the pool.

  “Mind if I sit beside you?” I asked Lindsay.

  She smiled and patted the chair next to her. “It’s all yours. How are you? I haven’t seen you for a while.”

  “You look great. We’ve been busy, and so have you, I hear.”

  “Yes. I’ve been doing calls with Barbara Holmes, seeing Jean-Luc, and walking on the beach at his house. It’s all been helpful. For a while I was so scared that Thomas would turn up and I’d be left to fight him on my own that I didn’t dare move. I don’t mean fight him physically, but mentally. It’s amazing how one person can take control and steal someone’s self-confidence, break their spirit, and leave nothing but pieces.”

  “I understand completely. Thinking back, I realized how easily I had allowed my ex-husband to take over the business I’d created and financed. He’d even made everyone believe most of the ideas were his.”

  “You? Caught like that? I’m surprised. You seem so self-assured,” said Lindsay.

  “It’s taken some time to change my thinking, but abuse can happen so effortlessly, it’s frightening.”

  Lindsay gave me a steady look. “Jean-Luc says everyone admires what you and Rhonda have done at the hotel.”

  “Thanks. It hasn’t been easy, but we keep on trying.”

  “I’d like to stay here for as long as I can. Is that possible?”

  “This house is booked for a couple of weeks from now, but if we can’t make other arrangements , I’ll be pleased to offer you a private guest wing at my house.”

  “Oh, thank you. That’s so sweet.” Lindsay’s eyes filled. “Jean-Luc would let me stay with him, I’m sure, but I’m not ready for anything like that. Though I have to admit he’s becoming a dear friend.”

  “That’s good. He’s a wonderful man, and I know he’s been lonely. No word from your ex?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t prying.

  “No, and that worries me a bit. No matter what he says about being sober and a better person, I’ll never trust him again. Especially after he made me think I was at fault.”

  “How’s your sister doing
with all this?” I asked.

  “She’s happy I’ve found a safe place to stay for the moment and gain my strength. She, too, doesn’t trust Thomas or his family.”

  “Doesn’t that make it difficult for her to do her job?”

  Lindsay’s lips curled. “In Washington, no one trusts anyone else, so it’s nothing new. Just adding a few people to the list. That’s all.”

  “That’s awful,” I said, knowing what she said was the truth.

  “I know,” she said softly.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Before we met with Dorothy to go over the guestlist for the spring brunch, I told Rhonda about my conversations with Bernie, Debra, and Lindsay.

  “We’ve got to get that gate up right away,” said Rhonda. “In the meantime, why don’t we put a security guard there right next to the beach?”

  “Good idea. The thought of Brock Goodwin or any other neighbor or some random person strolling on the beach snooping on private hotel property sends shivers down my spine.”

  “Yeah, we’ve fought enough bad stuff to do everything we can to make this hotel succeed,” said Rhonda. “Most of the trouble came from Brock Goodwin, but still, we don’t want anything to stop us now.”

  “You’re right,” I said, firming my resolve. “Now, let’s build up some good public relations and plan that party. Dorothy should be here any minute.”

  As if by magically hearing her name, Dorothy Stern knocked at the door.

  I opened it and smiled at the short woman who carried an air of authority like a fur stole around her shoulders. Barely five-two, the elderly, gray-haired woman peered at me through thick glasses that added to the suspicion she missed nothing going on around her.

  “Hello, Dorothy, good to see you. Are you ready to oversee the invitations to the party as you normally do?”

  “You bet,” she answered, stepping inside the office. “I want to make sure certain people are coming. It’s important for the cooperation you gals need from the city.” She grimaced as she continued, “Of course, Brock Goodwin is coming. Says he wouldn’t miss it for the world, that if he hadn’t given his permission, you two would never have been able to open the hotel.”

  “What an ass,” said Rhonda.

  “Truly,” I said, thinking of my grandmother and stopping myself from saying more.

  “Well, only the new people in the neighborhood would believe such a thing. They and the one or two friends who’ve stayed close to him,” said Dorothy, shaking her head. “I did hear from Father Donnelly. He’s coming. He wants to thank you two for all your donations to his secret charity.”

  Rhonda and I gave each other high fives. We’d decided his charity was one way to give money for a good cause without making a fuss about it.

  We left Dorothy and went into the kitchen to speak to Consuela.

  The short, round, gray-haired woman who smiled at us filled my heart with affection. Consuela was like the mother I never had the privilege of knowing. Warm, kind, hard-working, encouraging, she’d been with us from the beginning when she was a housekeeper for Rhonda.

  “Hope we’re not catching you at a bad time,” I said, hugging her. “We just wanted to make sure we’ve ordered all the food for the brunch .”

  “And a lot of it made and frozen.” Rhonda beamed. “Even after all these years, our sweet rolls are still a favorite.”

  “Si, si, they’re made,” said Consuela, waving away our concern. “What we can’t freeze ahead of time will be made on Saturday and Sunday mornings. Are you prepared to help the staff and me?”

  “Oh, yes. That’s what makes our brunch so special. All original recipes with the best ingredients,” I said.

  “Some of my mother’s favorite recipes and mine,” said Rhonda proudly. She was an excellent cook. She and Jean-Luc loved to tease one another as to who had better family recipes.

  We left Consuela to take care of the lunch menu and decided to walk down to the beach to check on the gate area. To one side of where we wanted to place the gate sat a large, bohio-style, open-sided hut where guests could enjoy cocktails and nibbles while watching the sunset. It had been reconstructed after a suspicious fire had burned the original to the ground.

  I stood and faced the water. Waves rolled in and moved away in a pattern I’d never tire of watching. Some people strolled the beach, their faces to the ground, looking for shells. Others trotted or jogged by intent on clocking steps. But others like me seemed content to lose themselves in the rhythm of the waves or delight in the shorebirds that scurried along the packed sand at the water’s edge, looking for food.

  Rhonda turned to me. “This makes me think of many times in the early days when we’d both come to this spot as a way to escape our worries.” She smiled at the memory. “Sometimes, it’s hard to believe all that’s happened. Right, Annie?”

  “I wasn’t at all sure we’d make it. But we’ve had each other to help us through tough times. That and hard work have made our success.” I turned and faced the hotel. The pink, two-story building, which stretched like a sleeping flamingo across the span of land we owned, was stunning. Balconies and patios of the thirty-six rooms offered views of the Gulf or private gardens. The pool and patio areas were multi-functional and enhanced the accessibility of the outdoors. On rainy, windy, or cold days, the lobby and dining areas were happily used by those who chose not to stay in their comfortable rooms.

  “Sure is pretty. Don’tcha think?”

  “Gorgeous. We have to get that gate up so our guests are protected.”

  “Until we can provide a little more security, I’m going to be worried about Lindsay. Any idea when her ex is getting out of rehab?” said Rhonda.

  “No. Nothing’s been mentioned.”

  “Let’s hope it’s not soon,” said Rhonda. “I have a feeling he’s not the kind of guy who’s going to let her walk away.”

  “I wish I didn’t agree with you,” I said, checking my watch. “I think I’ll head home. Vaughn is cooking dinner.”

  “I’m going over to Angela’s to check on her. ’Sure you don’t want to come with me? Arthur is here.”

  I glanced at Rhonda. At the way she was shuffling her sandal in the sand I knew how much she wanted me to say yes.

  “I’ll stop by with you for just a minute on my way home,” I said.

  “Aw, thanks, Annie. Reggie’s father makes me almost as uneasy as Katherine.”

  “Arthur? On his own, he’s a pussy cat. He just doesn’t dare to defy his wife.”

  “Katherine’s still fussing over the baby’s name.”

  “Okay, let’s go. Poor Angela needs some support.”

  ###

  A few minutes later, I was in my car headed to Angela’s house. When my cell phone rang, I eagerly picked up a call from Liz on my car’s blue tooth system.

  “Hey, darling! How are you?”

  “Not so good,” said Liz. “I’m feeling a little down about things.” She sniffled, and I drew in a shaky breath.

  “I’m sorry, Liz. I really am.” I knew what was bothering her. “Listen, I’ll be home in a little while. Do you and Chad want to come for dinner? Vaughn’s home, and he’s cooking.”

  “Thanks, I’ll ask him,” said Liz, sounding like a young girl instead of her usual competent self. “It might do us both good to do something different. After we close the store, we’ll come over unless I call you.”

  “Okay, my darling. I hope to see you soon.”

  We clicked off the call, and my eyes teared up. I was disappointed too that Liz wasn’t pregnant. After seeing Angela with her new baby, I wanted the same for Liz. A few years ago, they’d talked about having children at the same time so their children could become best friends. Now, Angela was way ahead.

  I parked in front of Angela’s house so there wouldn’t be any problem with cars when I was ready to leave.

  Rhonda pulled her Cadillac behind my SUV and got out. “Thanks for coming, Annie.” She stopped and stared at me. “What’s wrong?”


  “It’s Liz,” I couldn’t hold back a sigh. “She’s feeling down about not having any baby news.”

  “Oh, Annie, I’m so sorry. I know how much you worry about her.” She swept me in a big hug that smelled of her favorite perfume, Poison.

  I leaned against her for a moment and pulled myself together. I wouldn’t let Liz’s disappointment mar my joy for Angela.

  Katherine met us at the door. “Shhh! The baby is sleeping.”

  “Is Angela awake?” I asked.

  “Yes, she’s spending time with Evan.” Her lips thinned. “He doesn’t want to leave her side no matter how hard I try.”

  “I’ll talk to him,” said Rhonda, brushing by Katherine.

  “And I wanted to stop by to say hello to Arthur. How’s grandpa doing?” I asked, smiling at her.

  “He’s doing better with Evan than I am,” said Katherine, sniffing and looking annoyed.

  “How ... nice!” I said in what I hoped was an upbeat tone. A four-year-old was as perceptive as an adult when it came to personality.

  When I entered the living room, Angela was sitting on the couch with Rhonda, who was holding Evan in her lap.

  “Hi, Ange! How’s it going?” I asked softly, kneeling at her feet and taking her hand.

  Angela’s lips trembled. “I’m trying very hard to be with Evan and the baby and ...” she paused “... and everything.”

  “It’s overwhelming when that second baby comes,” said Rhonda. “Believe me, I know. Why don’t I take Evan to my house overnight and give everyone a break here?”

  I heard a gasp from Katherine and turned to see the outrage on her face. “You can’t take Evan away from us! We’re here to help him.”

  To Rhonda’s credit, she clamped her mouth shut, but the look on her face told a story of its own.

  Angela looked from one to the other. “Thanks, anyway, Mom, but we’re fine here. It’s just going to take some teamwork.”

  Arthur walked into the room.

  I stood. “Hello, Arthur. Do you remember me? Ann Sanders?”