“You don’t like the idea?”
“Will I need a costume?” I asked.
“That’s the idea. I’m throwing a party for my grand opening. Last year, this town was dead on Halloween. Kids got candy from all the shops downtown, and then it was all over at eight o’clock. Not this year.”
I ate, thinking about a possible costume appropriate for a bar grand opening. Maybe I could shimmy into a Gatsby era dress or go as one of Charlie’s Angels or something. I could ask Rita and either LeeAnn or Maria to team up with me. Or not.
“How about a pirate theme?” I suggested.
“Thought about it, but not sure it sends the right message. I’ve spent all this time getting rid of the Pirate Emporium look, starting with the giant statue. I think I should go forward, not back.”
“Everyone around here seems to be worried about that,” I muttered. The sale of the Sunshine and the empty buildings around town weighed me down. The fact that I concealed all those problems from Carol and Mike over the phone made me feel like a cheater. I couldn’t have lied to their face—I lacked the skill and nerve—but assuring them over the airwaves seemed okay. And they had plenty to worry about already, I reasoned.
“What did Carol and Mike say when you told them about the Sunshine selling out?” Skip asked.
I didn’t reply.
“You didn’t tell them,” Skip said, his voice edged with more understanding than criticism. His powers of mind reading were less impressive than you might think when you factor in the truth that my face is an open book. A flaw I would have to address if a job interview actually came out of the online application I’d filled out that morning for a customer service representative’s job—whatever that is—at Sandshore Realty.
“If The Gull were in any danger, I’d tell them,” I said.
“You mean immediate danger.”
“Of course.”
“Because we’re all in trouble if another round of property value tanking goes on. I’m about fifteen bucks away from my equity ceiling right now.”
“Maybe I should buy you dinner,” I suggested, feeling relatively solvent and hoping to change the subject.
“You could,” he said, smiling suggestively, “but then you’d probably expect sex later if I let you wine and dine me.”
“That’s how it works, sailor.”
As it turned out, I didn’t buy dinner. I just bought ice cream at a stand a few miles closer to home as the sun totally faded. But I got my reward in sex anyway. Having an attractive and willing man camping out in the bar next door seriously uncomplicates the logistics of a physical relationship.
But logistics were part of my overall problem long term because I didn’t know how long I’d be needed to run The Gull, and I was still on the waitlist for January in Chicago. The longer I stayed in Barefoot, though, the more the fancy hotel job started to seem very far away.
****
I hit print and ran to the printer, ready to catch and conceal what came out. The reservations system on the lobby counter shared the office printer because it was really only a few steps away.
“You in there, Savvy?” Rita called from the lobby.
“Yep,” I said, still waiting for the printer to wake up and spit out my paper.
“Tulip’s in trouble. Took some kid’s pool toy and won’t give it back. Mom’s put out about it. I’m checking in a guest out here.”
Torn between guarding the printer and handling the dog crisis, I hesitated. Then I heard barking and yelling outside and gave in. As I crossed the lobby, I thought I heard the printer come to life but it was too late. Maybe I’d be lucky.
“Drop it. Tulip! Drop!” I emerged from the sliding glass door, already yelling and trying to command our overgrown puppy.
Rita was right about the pool toy, but wrong about the mom. She was pissed off more than put out. Clearly not a dog person, she was unamused by a wet yellow lab carrying a blow up dolphin in her mouth like it was a baby. Every time Tulip clamped down, the dolphin squeaked and endeared itself even more to her. The kids in the pool—including the owner of the toy—loved the spectacle, but I was obligated to intervene.
“She’s a stray,” I said, catching a glimpse of Skip striding over. I guess he heard the barking and squeaking.
“Lives next door,” I continued. “Hey, neighbor,” I yelled. “Come get your dog before I call the dog catcher again.”
Skip gave me a sideways glance that suggested I would owe him later. A lot. He whistled and Tulip capitulated immediately, running gleefully to my neighbor’s bar. Skip opened the side door and Tulip dashed in. I imagined her visits would have to cease once he got the place going and health codes became more important. Not many bars and restaurants have a pet, and Tulip would probably steal wallets, car keys, purses, and condoms from unsuspecting bar patrons. She could get a bad reputation.
It took me a few minutes to mollify the ticked-off mom, but since the dolphin still held air and floated, there was no serious damage done. I was hoping to get back in the office and grab my paper from the printer before Rita saw it.
One look at her face when I slid back through the glass door told me I was too late. She held it out to me with her trademark what the hell is this look.
“Must be a good explanation for this,” she said, holding out the confirmation letter with my interview time and directions to the Sandshore Realty corporate office in Tampa.
“Uh-huh,” I said.
The only reason I’d concealed this from Rita and everyone else was because I thought I was being completely paranoid and stupid. Not two traits I want in a lover, myself, or even a pet.
Rita didn’t move. Didn’t offer me the letter. Didn’t offer me any way out.
The door slid open behind me bringing humid air and a scent of Skip’s soap mixed with sawdust I’d come to know quite well.
“What’s going on?” he asked, stopping with his hand still on the door handle, ready to make a quick retreat in case he’d stepped into a cat spat. Which is what it probably looked like.
“Skip know about this?” Rita asked.
I shook my head, torn between explaining myself fully, telling them all to go to hell, or grabbing the paper and running into the Gulf.
Skip removed at least two of those options by clicking the door shut and taking the paper out of Rita’s hands.
“Job interview?” he said.
I nodded, waiting for the rest of his reaction to roll out. Rita was way ahead of him, you could tell from her expression.
“Why are you messing with this company? I don’t think they’re on the up and up,” he said.
Rita huffed out a long, loud breath and gave him the you’re a dumbass look.
“What?” Skip asked.
“Since Savvy’s got her lips all taped together, I’ll tell you what I think she’s doing. Nosing around. I think she’s cozying up to this company to see what their deal is.”
I wondered for about five seconds how Rita guessed that, but then I remembered my open-book status and Rita’s professional-people-reader status. She probably knew what I was thinking right at that moment.
“I don’t know what the hell you’re thinking,” Rita said, “going down there to Tampa and wasting your time. You’re not going to find out anything there that you couldn’t find out searching all over the Internet.”
“Maybe I will,” I said.
“So that’s what you’re doing?” Skip asked. “Really? Going on a fake interview to snoop around that company?”
I let my silence be my answer.
“Why?” he prodded. “It’s a real estate company. I think they’re being stupid buying properties in Barefoot when those properties obviously can’t hold their value.”
“Says the man who sunk the next thirty years on a mortgage for a property next door,” Rita said.
“That’s different. I’m sticking around. I’m no investment company looking to turn around properties and make a quick buck.”
For a
moment, I hoped they’d continue to fight with each other and leave me out of it, but that was too much to hope for. Still, I tried taking a small step backward out of the triangle.
No dice. “You’re not going anywhere,” Rita said. “Skip, you tell her this is a dumbass idea.”
“It’s a dumbass idea,” he said, cheerfully complying with Rita’s order.
Like I didn’t already know that. Still I couldn’t shake the thought that something about Sandshore Realty wasn’t legit.
“I have a right to apply wherever I want. Maybe I’ve decided to stay in Florida instead of putting my snow tires back on.” Rita gave me a look of total skepticism. Skip’s look was harder to read. We’d had no conversation about where our relationship was going, if anywhere. One thing was sure, though, if I stayed in the area, we’d have to figure out where we were going. If I headed north, the question could remain unanswered.
“I’m going with you,” Skip said.
“To Chicago?” I asked, my train of thought clearly on the wrong set of tracks.
Skip’s brow creased with confusion causing Rita to sigh loudly and retreat behind the front desk, slapping him on the head as she went.
“Says here the interview’s in Tampa,” he said. “I’ll drive you.”
Chapter Thirteen
“It was a good idea to require them to reserve rooms,” I observed. Rita and I were trying to ride herd on a cowgirl birthday party. The cake was shaped like a pony, the girls wore pink hats, and their moms even got in on the action by dressing as several variants of cowgirl ranging from slut to slutty ranch hand. I imagine Skip’s appearance halfway through the party more than justified their efforts. It was probably a disappointment when Skip removed the plastic pony from the pool filter and continued on his way next door to the Sunshine.
I was planning to go over and help Jeanette set up her clearance tent and clean out her storage closet as soon as the birthday party at The Gull settled down.
“My thought was they could use the shower and have a decent place to change, but now I’m afraid it’ll just mean they stick around longer,” Rita said. “That’s a lot of little girls. Have to throw in the nuclear pool chemicals when they leave.”
“And hose off the deck.” Pink icing, laced with sprinkles and glitter, decorated the pool deck. An abandoned cowgirl hat floated in the pool sending out a little cloud of colored water where the cheap construction met the chlorine.
“We could hose off the kids, too,” Rita suggested.
“LeeAnn and Maria were against the idea, and now I see why,” I said.
“Can’t judge from LeeAnn. She’s against everything. But you might want to listen to Maria next time.”
“Because she has kids?”
“And other things,” Rita said.
I wondered if Maria had revealed her powers of prophecy to Rita or if Rita had just figured it out. Rita gave me a searching look but kept her mouth shut, probably wondering how much I knew about Maria’s church group with the Internet gambling gift.
Despite the strange contrast of the pink themed party with the aqua blue motif of The Gull, I liked it. Sure the kids were loud, the moms were a pain in the ass, and we’d have a mess to clean up. But rooms were booked and people were having fun. The heavy scent of spray-on sunscreen hung in the air, smelling like vacation.
I took a moment and enjoyed the scene at my motel. The Gull had no doorman, no valet parking, no elevator, no concierge desk. But it had sunshine, the sparkling Gulf of Mexico—whose color nearly matched the signature shade of the motel—and it had history. It was starting to feel like home.
****
The mail came while Rita supervised the pool party and I held down the ancient countertop in the office. One embossed envelope made me suck in a deep breath and hold it until I’d found the letter opener in the junk drawer. I nearly passed out by the time I got the envelope open and read the first three words.
I was in.
The manager trainee program at the Hotel Chicago was pleased to tell me my status had changed from waitlist to official trainee. The letters I’d sent them detailing my improvements at The Gull had worked! In only a few months, I would be standing behind a marble counter in a lobby with a waterfall in the center. I’d be directing people with expensive luggage to have a nice day.
I eyed the margarita machine under the counter. Should I celebrate? I sighed. The letter directed me to respond with my acceptance within ten days. I decided to think about it tomorrow. I could celebrate when the cowgirl party left.
After the pool partiers had polished off cake and ice cream, the moms in power hauled the girls to their rooms to shower off sand, sunscreen, and sticky food. Rita decided she didn’t need to guard the pool deck any longer and headed into the cool lobby to reclaim her post behind the desk. The only rooms previously booked on the slow Tuesday afternoon were the birthday party guests, but there was always a chance of a drive-in reservation.
I headed over to the Sunshine to help Jeanette. When I got there, Skip was securing the last stake of a large tent in the parking lot. Just seeing my neighbor on a ladder putting up a final clearance sign made the gravity of the situation real. I wondered what Uncle Mike and Aunt Carol would say right now if they knew Jeanette had sold out to the new real estate company moving in and making promises they probably wouldn’t be able to keep. I knew I should tell them, but I hated to burden them with problems here while they tried to sort out Carol’s unpredictable mother.
Jeanette handed me a marker. “Want to write prices on all this stuff?” she asked.
“Just tell me how much,” I said.
“Heck if I know. Whatever you think I can get. All goes into my retirement plan along with the money I got for the place.”
I wanted to ask so bad it was physically painful. If I asked Jeanette, I knew she would tell me what Sandshore Realty had offered her.
“It wasn’t a bad offer,” she said, taking advantage of my open book face. “I know you’re curious. I would be. We all have to worry about what happens to our properties when others sell out.”
“I’m glad it was an okay offer,” I said.
“Still feel like a rat leaving a sinking ship,” she said. “But it’s a good chance for me to move on.”
“You’re not betraying anyone,” I said.
Jeanette came down and leaned on the ladder. “Glad you and Skip are both here so I can tell you at the same time.”
Her tone suggested storm clouds on the horizon. Skip gave me a puzzled glance and I could see he didn’t know what was coming either.
“When I went to do the paperwork for the final sale and transfer,” Jeanette said, pausing to straighten her clearance sign, “something came to light I forgot all about.”
“Something bad?” I asked.
“Not for me, but it might for you,” she looked anywhere but at us as she spoke. “Years ago, I made an informal agreement with Harvey and your aunt and uncle to let traffic go past here to the Pirate Emporium and The Gull.”
“Let traffic go past?” Skip asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“Wait,” I said. “Isn’t this a public street?”
“Not all of it. Part of it’s private, came with this property. The turn off from the main road, right in front of where we’re standing, goes with this parcel.”
I didn’t know what Skip was thinking, but I sure knew trouble when I saw it. This could be disastrous.
“We’re all friends,” Jeanette continued, her tone apologetic. “So we never put it in writing. An informal easement you might call it.”
“But now—” I began.
“Now whoever buys this old place doesn’t have any obligation to honor a friendly agreement, no matter how long it’s been around.”
Skip finally processed what Jeanette was saying. “So, my bar is cut off? If whoever bought your place decides to be a jackass about it, they could close this access road by cutting it off at the entrance?”
“That�
�s what could happen,” Jeanette said, the lines of her face weakening as if she was five seconds away from tears.
“And no cars could come down the street to The Gull or my place?” Skip asked.
Jeanette nodded.
I was starting to think a phone call to my aunt and uncle was something I should have done a week ago. They would have known about this easement and maybe something could have been done. Now, it was a done deal and The Gull could end up isolated from the flock.
Chapter Fourteen
On the hour’s drive to Tampa, I talked myself into and out of what I was about to do. Three times. Interviewing for a job I had no intention of taking was a new adventure for me. For one thing, I had the acceptance letter in my purse from Chicago. For another, I was only going to Sandshore Realty corporate headquarters to snoop around.
At least I’d talked Skip out of going with me. Going incognito would be a lot tougher if I took along a man whose looks turned heads. Especially if the man in question also thought I was a moron for going on this interview in the first place.
The headquarters for Sandshore stood out from its neighboring buildings because of its height and its shiny newness. Glass instead of stucco or brick and ten stories instead of three made the building look like Miss America visiting a preschool of ugly ducklings. I wondered which of those two categories I’d fit into.
I parked between two vehicles with chrome and trim worth more than my whole car. Because I had only vacation clothes with me, I’d asked my parents to ship my official navy blue interview suit with matching heels. I told them I was representing The Gull at a chamber of commerce event and wanted to look professional. They let me off the hook without asking questions.
It wasn’t technically a lie. I had represented The Gull at a chamber of commerce event, but I just happened to be wearing a trampy tube top dress at the time.
“Savannah Thorpe,” I told the sharp-faced woman at the desk.
“One moment,” she said icily.
Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set Page 122