by Judith Keim
Some time later, Wilkins called the office, urgently requesting homemade cookies be brought to his room. I put together a plate of them and carried them upstairs. Before I could knock on the door, it opened. Wilkins, wrapped in one of the hotel’s thick terry robes, beamed at me. “Ah! Just what I wanted.”
“Who’s there?” came a feminine voice from another room.
“Nobody!” Wilkins placed a warning finger on his lips. “I don’t want her to see me snacking. You know how these young people are—they never eat!”
I grinned and turned away.
Not long afterward, a loud shriek came from upstairs. My heart pounded with alarm. I dropped my paperwork at the reception desk in the front hall and dashed up the stairway.
The blonde was standing at the door of Wilkins’ room with just a towel wrapped around her. Her face had drained of color. Her eyes rolled in her head like those of a spooked horse.
I grabbed her by the shoulders. “What is it?”
The blonde pointed into the room. “There. In there.”
I hurried into the room and stopped short. A very rotund, very naked Wilkins Jones lay sprawled across the king-size bed, his large, white buttocks exposed.
I gasped as I took in his stillness, his blue-tinged lips. “Call 911!” I screamed to the girl, who, I now realized, had been sharing the space with him moments ago. I lifted Wilkins’ hand, searching for a pulse. Then, I tried for a pulse at the neck. Nothing. “We’ve got to try CPR!”
“I will!” gasped the distraught girl. “You talk to the people on the phone!”
Rhonda and Tim hurried into the room.
“What’s wrong?” Rhonda cried and staggered back when she took in the sight. “Oh, my God! Annie! Is he ... is he dead?”
The blonde stepped away from Wilkins’ body and shook her head. It’s...It’s... not... working.”
“Keep everyone away,” I said to Tim, waiting for the 911 operator to pick up.
Tim went out, closed the door behind him, and directed the few other mid-week guests away from the room.
My voice shook as I gave the 911 operator the details. “I’m pretty sure he’s dead,” I ended, feeling sick to my stomach.
“Help is on the way,” she said. “Stay on the phone with me until I know they’re there.”
“Better get dressed,” I whispered to the blonde. “They’ll be here any minute.”
At the sound of an ambulance pulling in, I told the operator they’d arrived and hung up. Waiting for the EMTs to appear, I stood with Rhonda, staring at our very dead guest.
Rhonda cupped her cheeks with shaking hands. “What are we going to do?”
Still reeling from the shock, I could only shake my head. I’d never imagined something like this.
Tim led the EMTs to the room. They worked in tandem, checking every possibility, trying to bring him back. But it was too late.
Later, after the police and coroner had done their work, I helped the distraught blonde pack her things. When she requested a ride to the airport, Tim left with her.
Rhonda made arrangements with Wilkins’ wife to have the body taken away and prepared for a flight home. I gathered his belongings and packed Wilkins’ suitcase, then stepped aside so the room could be cleaned.
Later, shaken by all that had happened, I sat with Rhonda in the office feeling numb.
Rhonda gave me a worried look. “Annie, we’ve gotta keep it quiet about the way he died— in bed with a young floozie. You know?”
I nodded. It was all part of our vow of discretion. I could only imagine what the press would do with news like this.
It didn’t take long for a news reporter to call the hotel, requesting information about Wilkins Jones. He was more well-known than I’d suspected. The questions came at me like rapid gunfire. How exactly had Wilkins died? When? What had we talked about? My hands grew sweaty as I answered as truthfully as I could while being discreet.
The next morning, Rhonda waved me over to her desk and held up the morning paper. “Listen to this. ‘Mr. Wilkins Jones, a free-lance writer, well-known for his interesting travel articles, died peacefully in his sleep yesterday afternoon while vacationing in Florida at The Beach House Hotel.’” She beamed at me. “Good job, Annie. We even get some publicity out of it.”
I let out a breath of relief and wondered how in the world I’d ever been talked into this zany business. Dealing with people from all walks of life made things interesting, but it was a never-ending roller-coaster ride.
###
Responses to the invitations to our first annual Christmas Open House rolled in. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to see where The Sins of the Children was filmed. We’d invited people from the neighborhood, members of various hotel associations, and the movers-and-shakers of the community.
On the appointed day, Rhonda and I stood side-by-side greeting guests at the front door. Rhonda wore black slacks and a bright red Christmas sweater adorned with fluffy, furred angels. To complement the red of Rhonda’s sweater, I’d chosen to wear an emerald green long skirt and matching top. Tim’s burgundy sport coat kept the holiday theme going as he ushered guests through the house, giving them a tour of the property.
The huge Christmas tree in the entry hall sparkled with glass balls of every color. Clear glass icicles hung from the branches, absorbing the colors around them. The scent of pine permeated the air, adding a nice holiday touch.
Consuela, Rosita, and Ana circulated among the guests, carrying trays of food whose tantalizing aromas filled every room. We’d hired two bartenders to work the bar we’d set up in the living room.
Rhonda and I meandered among the guests, welcoming them. I noticed Will and Dorothy and some of the other people from the neighborhood talking together and knew from their happy expressions they were enjoying themselves. Pleasure filled me. Hosting a party like this was something I enjoyed. Setting up and running the hotel had become my life, and I was proud of all Rhonda and I were accomplishing.
After the last guest left, I kicked off my gold sandals, collapsed on a couch, and massaged my tired feet. “What do you think? Did we pull it off?”
Rhonda sat beside me, grinning. “They loved us! I think we’re going to fill in some of the blank spaces for the season.”
“Great.” January, February, March, and April were the high season months in Sabal. If the hotel was going to do well for the year, those months had to be solidly booked.
“Annie? I’m proud of all we’ve done. Aren’t you?”
I smiled. “Sure am.” It had taken a lot of luck to bring us to this point, but we’d worked our tails off too.
###
The girls arrived home for Christmas grumbling about their exams and anxious to laze in the sun. At the airport, I hugged Liz close to me, happy she’d be with me for the holidays. A gleam on Liz’s wrist caught my eye. “What’s this?”
She held out her arm. “My Christmas present from Dad and Kandie. Cool, huh?”
“A Rolex? That’s a little extravagant, don’t you think?”
Liz shrugged. “I don’t know. I like it. Besides, Dad’s doing great. He and Kandie are going to build a big house. They showed me the plans. It’s going to be beautiful. They even have a room for me.”
My heart thumped wildly. Robert clearly had not given up on the idea of having Liz move in with him. Worry knotted my stomach. I wondered how much I should say to Liz. Surely she could see Robert for what he was and not be taken in by his gifts.
It was so like Robert to play the game this way. He knew perfectly well I couldn’t compete in a game of one-upmanship. How could I? At the same time he was buying expensive gifts for our daughter and building fancy houses, he was withholding his last payment to me. I couldn’t let him get away with it.
According to our signed agreement, I was to be paid the third and last payment by the middle of December. And I was counting on it. We were trying to finalize our budget for next year. Money was coming in, but money was going out at an eve
n faster clip because we were continuing to upgrade the facilities to accommodate our upscale guests.
I waited until Liz was at the hotel with Angela before I called Robert. “Where is the money you owe me?” I asked him. Though I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, I fought to keep my voice from becoming shrill.
He snorted into the phone. “What are you carrying on for? I saw the article in the New York Times about your hotel and how wonderful it is and how anybody who is anybody wants to go there. So, what’s your problem? You’re doing well. Give me a break. I’ll pay you when I can.”
My body turned fiery hot. I struggled to keep my voice from wavering, though I was so angry I was afraid I’d cry. “Our deal was signed, sealed and delivered almost a year ago. I’m counting on that money for my own use. I’m not going to give up what is mine so you can give our daughter a Rolex watch and build a brand new house!”
“Oh, so that’s it! Liz told you about the house, huh?” His voice grew triumphant. “Well, it’s going to be a beauty. Better than anything you and I ever had.”
Oh, how I hated him, listening to him boast, each word a stab to my heart and self-esteem.
“Yeah,” he continued. “I figured the boy would need the room, especially with another baby on the way.”
“Kandie’s pregnant again?”
“Not exactly. But we’ve decided to go ahead and try for another one. It probably won’t take long. If I have to educate one more, it might as well be two.”
Reeling from the vicious intent of his words, I drew a deep breath. He knew my vulnerabilities, how I’d yearned for more children. Tears, hot with pain and indignation, sprung to my eyes and washed down my cheeks. I was grateful he couldn’t see them and wouldn’t know he could still wound me so.
Using every ounce of self-control, I said, “I’m not waiting any longer for what you owe me, Robert. Syd Green will call Jack Henderson today.”
“You really are something. Know that?” Robert snarled. “I just made a payment before Thanksgiving. It’s Christmas, for Chrissake!”
“And business is business,” I responded firmly. “A deal is a deal. It wouldn’t come to this if you’d paid the second payment on time, as we’d agreed. You’re the one who set up the payment schedule. I didn’t. Now, you have to live with it.”
“What a bitch!” he sputtered, his voice rising dangerously.
Heart pounding, I hung up the phone. I hated confrontation, but in the past year, I’d learned that if I didn’t stick up for my rights, Robert would try to manipulate me out of them. I couldn’t let that happen. The more I’d given in to him, the more he’d taken. I wouldn’t allow him another opportunity.
Willing myself to let go of my anger, I sat in my kitchen trying to calm myself. It was, after all, the Christmas season.
Later, I walked by the lanai at the hotel. At the sound of giggling, I stopped. Liz and Angela were huddled together at the shallow end of the pool.
“What’s up?”
“Somebody named Tim.” Liz nudged Angela.
“Oh! So you’ve finally met him. He’s doing a great job for us.”
“He’s awfully cute.” Liz rolled her eyes playfully. “Angie thinks so, too.”
A flush brightened Angela’s face.
“Well, girls, for whatever it’s worth, I think he’s a hottie too.”
The girls burst out laughing.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Christmas rolled into New Year’s Eve in what seemed the blink of an eye. I’d hoped to hear something from either Vaughn or Nell, but though I’d sent a Christmas card to Nell, thanking her for the time she gave to Liz over Thanksgiving, I’d received nothing in return from her. And Vaughn? I couldn’t even watch the show anymore.
Men! I thought with disgust. They were either like Robert or Brock—too demanding and insisting on things their way, or like Vaughn—too good to be true. What I had once thought was a real connection between Vaughn and me was, I realized, my seeking something substantial. How foolish.
Liz entered the office at the hotel. “’Bye, Mom. Angela and I are off to South Beach. Sure you don’t mind my leaving you alone for a couple of days?”
Touched by her concern, I smiled at her. “Have a fun-filled weekend. I know how excited you are to meet your friends from school for New Year’s Eve. But, Liz, please be careful.”
“Thanks!” Liz gave me a hug and left.
I went back to checking financial reports, pleased by the business we’d done over Christmas. We’d been able to attract locals for our special holiday meals along with our usual Sunday breakfast bunch.
At the end of the afternoon, I was sitting in the office checking receipts when I heard the door open.
“You’ve gotta see this, Rhonda!” I cried, delighted by the numbers.
“Hello, Ann. It’s good to see you again,” said a melodious voice I knew well.
I swiveled around and let out a gasp. Shock and pleasure swept through me.
Vaughn Sanders’ gaze settled on me. He gave me a crooked smile that set my heart to pounding.
“What a wonderful surprise!” I managed to say.
He stood there like the ghost of my dreams and held out his arms to me.
I hesitated for only a moment. Joy lifted me out of the chair and into his embrace.
He let out a satisfied chuckle and held me close. “I decided to surprise you. Nell thought it was a good idea. I’d like to take you to dinner tonight if you can get away. I see how busy you’ve become.”
I wanted to pinch myself to make sure it wasn’t one of my dreams come to life. What did this mean? What did he want from me? I fought to think clearly. There was no question of business as usual.
“Dinner with you would be wonderful,” I said. “I’ve got the perfect place in mind.”
I led Vaughn to the kitchen, where Rhonda was working with Consuela. “I’m going to take the rest of the day off.”
“You bet you are!” Rhonda threw her arms around Vaughn. “Boy! Are we glad to see you! You have no idea how much Annie ...”
I shot her a warning look that stopped her cold. I still didn’t know what Vaughn’s visit meant for me.
“How long are you staying?” I asked him. “And where?” I’d seen no evidence of luggage.
Vaughn smiled. “I’ve got reservations for two nights right here. Under an assumed name.”
Rhonda elbowed him. “You sure are a sneaky one!”
He laughed. “In my business, you sometimes have to be.”
I smiled, but self-doubts lurked inside me. Was this just a little vacation break for him—a dinner date that filled the hours away from New York or maybe London?
“What do you say we make it seven o’clock? That’ll give me time to get settled,” said Vaughn.
I walked him to the lobby. “That’ll be fine. I’ll make the reservations. They know me, so a last minute request shouldn’t be a problem.”
As I left him, my emotions flew in many directions at once. No matter how much I wanted—no, needed—to know his purpose, I decided to simply let the evening evolve. I didn’t want to appear over-anxious or assume anything beyond what it was—a dinner date.
###
Heading over to the Palm Island Club, I sat alongside Vaughn on the motor launch listening to the sound of the boat slice through the water. The happy tattoo of my heartbeat rose above the noise of the motor. “He’s here! He’s here!” seemed to be the cry of the gulls swooping above us in the cool air. I turned to Vaughn with a smile, wondering if he knew how deeply happy I was to see him.
His expression brightened, and he reached for my hand. At the dock, he handed me out of the boat, and we walked up a path to the rustic main building of the complex on Palm Island, a short boat ride from the mainland.
We entered the restaurant. The hostess took my name and led us to a small table sitting by itself in a corner of the dining area. Holding my chair, she murmured, “It should be nice and private here, Ms. Rutherford.”
She turned to Vaughn. “Have a good dinner, Mr. Sanders. We’re pleased to have you here. I never miss the show.”
Surprised, I looked at Vaughn, and we laughed.
“I guess there’s no getting away from being a well-known mayor on television,” I said with amusement as the hostess walked away.
“Yes, especially in a place where the sins of the children cause so much trouble.” He shook his head. “People take their soap operas seriously.”
Throughout the meal, I listened eagerly to Vaughn tell me what had happened since I’d last seen him. He amused me with stories of the trade, making me feel a part of his world. “The Christmas show was a blast, with everyone dressed up, fake snow and all.”
“How was your Christmas? Were you with Nell?”
“She and I had a nice day together. My son stayed in San Francisco for Christmas day, but we were together earlier when he came to New York for the Christmas show.”
“And your Thanksgiving?” He hadn’t mentioned the trip to London.
“Very nice, thanks.”
Vaughn took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’s so good to see you again.”
My pulse sprinted. Gazing into his eyes, I felt he was every bit as sweet as I’d remembered him during the empty months without him.
Later, on the return trip to the mainland, I settled in the boat beside Vaughn and held his hand, filled with the need to touch him. A cool winter breeze ruffled my hair as the boat skimmed the water’s surface like a bird about to take flight.
Vaughn leaned over and pushed strands of my hair away from my face. Smiling at me, his eyes crinkled at their corners as he gave my hand a squeeze. “You look lovely.”
A young, attractive woman on the boat edged her way over to us. “Vaughn Sanders! I thought that was you!” She grinned at him and pushed her way in beside him.
He acknowledged her with a bob of his head and his lips curved into the smile he’d just given me.
My self-confidence turned to dust. Vaughn had elected not to come to Sabal for Thanksgiving and had visited his lady friend in London instead. Now he was flirting with the woman sitting next to him. Vaughn could have his choice of any woman. Why would he choose me? For him, this was nothing more than a dinner date. The blood drained from my face as realization struck me. Oh, my God! I’m going to be hurt all over again!