Breakfast at the Beach House Hotel Read online

  Rhonda came into the office, and I shared the news.

  She drew a deep breath. “You have to represent us again, Annie. Those swanky people aren’t gonna listen to me. It’s up to you.”

  I prayed I’d know the right words to say to save our business.

  ###

  Dreading another confrontation with Brock, I reluctantly returned to the condominium clubhouse for the Gold Coast Neighborhood Association meeting. Brock reminded me of Robert—someone who had to have his own way to prove his power—sometimes, for no other reason.

  Will and Rhonda took seats on either side of me, like guard dogs protecting me. Dorothy sat at the table in front of the assembled group. She looked very small next to some of the other board members sitting beside her.

  Brock entered the room as if he owned the place, his three sycophants in tow.

  The meeting started with the usual items of business. When it came time for me to discuss the hotel, I rose and went to the front of the room. My knees shook, but I stood straight.

  “I understand some of you are concerned about the filming that might take place on the beach in front of The Beach House Hotel. We’ve been told filming there can be done with little or no inconvenience to the neighbors. We understand the beach itself is public, and we’ll make sure no one is denied access to it. This is a professional company, well acquainted with the need to be flexible. We ask you to be just as flexible.” I paused, letting my gaze sweep over each face in the room. “This could be a very big thing for Sabal. Companies like this spend money. Businesses can get the exposure they might not get otherwise. ”

  “You mean your business,” sneered Brock.

  I shook my head. “I mean every business. Our community is small. We can help one another.”

  Clapping broke out among the members of the audience as I took my seat.

  “Good job, Annie!” said Rhonda in a stage whisper. “You did good. Now let Will finish the job.” She looked at Will with adoring eyes as he rose and walked to the front of the room.

  Will cleared his throat. “I’m William Grayson, a CPA, and financial consultant. I’ve had a business here in Sabal for many years. In fact, I see a lot of familiar faces in the audience. With all due respect to the chairman, I believe he does not see the big picture. Filming a show in the neighborhood, under carefully agreed-upon restrictions, is a huge plus not only for the neighborhood but for Sabal itself. Sabal has a reputation of being a beautiful, high-end destination. The Beach House Hotel exemplifies all of that and more. Don’t let the naysayers destroy what could be a very good thing for everyone involved.”

  Amid more applause, Will sat down.

  Brock jumped to his feet. “This is just the beginning of a burgeoning problem for the peace and quiet of the neighborhood. Neither Ann Rutherford nor Rhonda DelMonte cares about Sabal or our neighborhood community. All they care about is money. We must put a stop to their constant, infringing requests, or we’ll lose all the value of our property.”

  Dorothy jumped to her feet. “We’ve heard many people speak about what is really a simple matter. Filming is scheduled to take place over a short period of time and in the off-season. Allowing this gives the small business people of Sabal the opportunity for outstanding publicity. I, for one, am tired of always being in conflict with our president, who, I believe, has overstepped his role. In fact, I’d like to ask Mr. Goodwin to step down from that position and give the rest of us on the board a voice.”

  I held my breath.

  Brock’s face registered incredulity; then anger colored his cheeks a deep red. He turned on his heel and walked out of the room without a backward glance.

  “May we have a vote?” Dorothy asked, raising her hand. “Mr. Vice President, will you ask for a vote?”

  A vote was taken, and we won handily. But I knew that wouldn’t be the end of Brock Goodwin’s opposition. As he’d warned me, he wasn’t one to give up easily.

  Excited, racing each other, Rhonda and I hurried back to The Beach House Hotel to call Brenda Bolinder.

  Rhonda dialed the number, and we waited impatiently for Brenda to pick up.

  “Good news!” Rhonda said as soon as Brenda said hello. “We’ve got approval to do the filming here at The Beach House Hotel. We thought you’d want to know. We can’t wait to have you here.”

  “Oh! I’m sorry. I was going to call you. Unsure as I was about The Beach House Hotel, I set something up in the Virgin Islands.” Over the speaker phone, she sounded genuinely disappointed.

  My heart plummeted.

  “But ... but you can’t,” wailed Rhonda. “We want you here!”

  “Mmm, let me get back to you,” she replied. “Actually, it would be cheaper for them to come to Florida. I’ll talk to the powers-that-be once more and call you back.”

  Nausea struck me as Rhonda hung up the phone.

  Rhonda swiped a fist in the air. “I’m tellin’ ya, Annie, if Brock Goodwin has screwed this up for us, I’ll make his life miserable!”

  For the next two days, we did our duties with little attention to them. If we missed out on the opportunity to host The Sins of the Children, we’d be off to a painfully slow start.

  Brenda finally called while Rhonda was out doing errands. “Good news, Ann! The producers of the show have decided to use The Beach House Hotel after all. They’ll take all the rooms from the middle of August through Labor Day. I’ll confirm dates and times in an email.”

  Tears of relief stung my eyes. “Wonderful! As soon as you confirm, we’ll fax an agreement to you for your signature.”

  “That’ll be fine,” said Brenda. “You also need to be aware they have some personal requests, as well. I don’t remember if you have a private limousine available to guests, but they’ll require at least two. And perhaps you can help us arrange to lease some vans for their equipment. I’ll send you a list of other special needs. They’ve agreed to pay for any of these additional services. That’s one good thing about the entertainment business. They usually have allowances for costs like this in their budgets.”

  I quickly agreed to handle all requests, and we said goodbye. As soon as I hung up, I punched in Rhonda’s cell number. She picked up right away.

  “We’ve got it, Rhonda! The Sins of the Children is coming here!”

  “I knew it!” she cried.

  I laughed. “Hurry back. We need to get to work.” In addition to preparing for the soap opera people, we’d decided to open The Beach House Hotel for a public Sunday breakfast—the first of many, we hoped.

  ###

  On a glorious Sunday morning, Rhonda and I circulated among the guests in the dining room. They were digging into their breakfast with enthusiasm. I listened to them rave about the food, the house, and the grounds, and the tension that had built into a mild headache evaporated in a cloud of optimism. A reporter from the Sabal Daily News arrived with a photographer, and several of the county commissioners appeared, along with several other movers and shakers from the city who’d been invited to our special event.

  The happy sounds of the guests filled me with satisfaction. I’d always loved entertaining at home. This was even better. The staff seemed to enjoy it too.

  Rhonda and I took turns greeting people or giving them tours of the property.

  As she was about to leave, Dorothy Stern came up to us. “Wonderful meal! You two are going to do very well.” She sighed. “Watching you flit around, you girls make me envious. I used to love working. The mere idea of sitting and doing nothing makes me feel so old. You wouldn’t need any extra help, would you?”

  Rhonda and I exchanged glances. We’d already decided we’d need a part-time office worker, at least temporarily.

  Rhonda smiled at me and placed a hand on Dorothy’s shoulder. “How would you like to come and work for us in the office a couple of days a week? Annie and I were talking about needing someone the other day. We never have any free time.”

  Dorothy’s eyes rounded, appearing even larger behin
d her thick lenses. “Why, I’d love to do that, sweetie. It’s hard to go from owning your own business to doing nothing. I’d do a really good job for you. Honest!”

  “We know that, honey,” said Rhonda. “That’s why we’re asking you.”

  She left, and I gave Rhonda a high five.

  With the success of our first Breakfast at The Beach House Hotel event, we moved forward, preparing for the arrival of the soap opera cast and crew. Ironically, after stumbling through an empty house on the Fourth of July, we started to receive requests for rooms over Labor Day weekend.

  “I’m sorry,” I told Dolores Johnson, our latest caller. “The hotel is completely booked. The soap opera, The Sins of the Children, is being filmed here during that time. Is there another time you’d like to come?” I waited for her response with bated breath.

  “The Sins of the Children? Really? But that’s so exciting! You mean Vaughn Sanders is going to be there?”

  “Yes, he and all the others will be staying here for a couple of weeks.”

  “Oh my God! I’m green with envy. Wait’ll my friends hear about this! Let me see, how about Veteran’s Day weekend? Do you have space then?”

  My smile grew even bigger as she gave me specific dates. I quickly entered them. “Okay, you’re all set. We’re looking forward to having you here.”

  “Thank you so much.” She hesitated. “Do you think it would be possible to stay in the same room as the one Vaughn has? I don’t want my husband to know, but it would be thrilling. Absolutely thrilling.”

  I held back a laugh. “I’ll make a note of it.”

  Still chuckling, I told Rhonda about the conversation.

  Rhonda jabbed a finger at me. “I told you, Annie! He’s a real hottie! All the women love him.” She blushed. “He’s almost as cute as Will.”

  I laughed. They both were cute, but I had no real interest in either of them or any other man.

  Working together, Rhonda and I addressed the special requests for the cast and crew. We came up with special menu items to satisfy certain stars, hired limo drivers, leased a couple of vans, and worked with the police department and a private security company to protect the privacy of the stars.

  As happy as I was with the progress we were making in the hotel, money problems stalked me at home. Robert had taunted me when he’d left, saying he didn’t know whether he’d send a check or not. I’d informed Syd about his threat, but a check hadn’t arrived, and now I couldn’t reach Robert.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The television crew came two days ahead of the stars. Rhonda and I stood by in awe as vans filled with equipment filed through the gates of the hotel.

  We tagged along as the cameramen, producer, and director walked through the entire house, deciding which rooms would best serve their purposes. Their enthusiasm added a sense of excitement to the process. Seeing the beauty and flexibility of the house through their eyes, my hopes for the hotel rose.

  The house sparkled with their presence. Theirs was a jovial crew, with a lot of teasing as they went about their work or took breaks by the pool.

  On the day the stars were due to arrive, Rhonda and I waited anxiously at the top of the stairs for the first of the limousines. Manny had called us from the van stationed at the airport to give us a heads up.

  Even as I told myself they were just ordinary people with unusual jobs, I couldn’t help feeling nervous. The first limo pulled in. I wiped my hands on my linen slacks and turned to Rhonda with a grin.

  Rhonda’s arms flapped for balance as she hurried down the steps in a gold caftan and strappy sandals. Sharing her excitement, I quickly followed.

  Susannah Scoville, the actress who played the lead in the show, stepped out of the first limousine. She greeted us with a nod of her head and indicated the man standing quietly behind her. “My husband, Philip Gardner.”

  I shook hands with him, warming to his unassuming manner and easy smile. A little boy, about four, jumped out of the car, narrowly missing my feet.

  “And who are you?” I asked, cheerfully.

  “Garrett.” He stuck his tongue out at me.

  His parents smiled indulgently at him.

  Shaking my head, I moved on to the next limo.

  A man reached into the backseat of the second limo and straightened, briefcase in hand. I immediately recognized Vaughn Sanders as the tall, handsome and distinguished mayor from the television program. He turned and looked at me and broke into a dazzling smile.

  I felt a jolt of pleasure and introduced myself. He held out his hand, and I took it, feeling very small next to his bulk. “Rhonda and I are pleased to have you here.”

  “Really?” His eyes shone with humor. “I’d think it would be a nuisance to have all of this mess here.” He gave me a crooked smile. “But I, for one, am grateful to be able to leave the city for a while.”

  The momentary silence between us was interrupted by shouts from Garrett Gardner. He ran up the front steps of the hotel, pursuing a neighbor’s adventuresome cat.

  His father stood at the bottom of the stairs. “Garrett! Come back here! If you don’t, I’ll have to count to ten!”

  Vaughn rolled his eyes at me.

  “He’s as bad as I thought?”

  Vaughn nodded. “I had to put up with him all the way from New York.”

  I laughed at his woeful expression, and he grinned at me. My breath caught as his brown eyes continued to gaze into mine, reaching deep down inside me. I turned away, relieved to find Manny standing nearby to collect Vaughn’s luggage.

  Vaughn followed Manny into the house. His lean muscular body moved easily. I watched him go, surprised by my strong reaction to him. As everyone constantly told me, he was one hot guy.

  Once we’d shown everyone to their rooms, Rhonda met me in the office.

  She elbowed me. “I saw the way Vaughn was staring at you. What was that all about?”

  I shrugged, still shaken by the energy between us and what it might mean. “I think he was just being friendly.”

  She gave me one of her smart-ass grins. “He sure is a hunk.”

  I couldn’t help the way my lips curved. I thought so too.

  ###

  The first day of filming took place in the living room. From the sidelines, I watched them shoot a few scenes and was surprised by the tedium involved in the process. It was a “hurry-up-and-wait” kind of thing. One mistake in one person’s lines or bad lighting meant reshooting the whole thing. Vaughn, I noticed, was very professional, delivering his lines without flubbing. Susannah, I decided, was a darker-haired version of Kandie—messing up her lines and pouting when she had to redo the scene.

  “It’s a lot different from what I thought it’d be,” said Rhonda, joining me later in the office. “If I had to work with her, I’d have to choke Susannah. As it is, I’m ready to choke that little boy of hers. Do you know what he did now? He threw his father’s robe and all the poolside towels into the swimming pool. I don’t know why his father didn’t take him aside and give him a good scolding. He didn’t, though.” Her brown eyes flashed. “If that sort of thing keeps up, I just may do it myself. Rosita doesn’t need any extra work to do. She’s busy enough as it is.”

  Rhonda and I joined the crew and cast for lunch in the new dining area. We’d set up a buffet of hearty cold salads, fresh bread, and fresh fruit. The camera men had no inhibitions about going back for seconds and thirds, and when Consuela brought out a tray of brownies still warm from the oven, they dug in with abandon. The cast, I noticed, ate small amounts of low-calorie food, no doubt concerned about the effect of an extra pound or two on camera.

  Vaughn carried a plate over to the table where I sat with Rhonda. “Okay if I sit here?”

  “Of course.” Rhonda flashed him a big smile and patted the chair next to her.

  He settled in his seat and turned to us. “What did you ladies think of the filming? I saw you watching from the sidelines this morning.”

  “Pretty boring,�
� said Rhonda. “It seems like you have to do things over and over again.”

  “It’s too bad you can’t be sure everyone knows their lines,” I added.

  Vaughn nodded. “It’s too bad you can’t choose who you work with and, therefore, who you’re going to be spending most of your time with.”

  Garrett Gardner chose that moment to race over to Vaughn, grab his arm, and swing on it like a monkey. “I wanna get up on your lap.”

  Vaughn grimaced. “Sorry, pal. I’m eating my lunch. Go find your father.”

  “No!” Garrett shouted. “I want you!”

  “Garrett! Leave poor, old Mr. Sanders alone,” Susannah called from her seat. “He doesn’t like pesky little boys.”

  We waited for her to come over to get him. When she didn’t, Rhonda rose and took Garrett’s hand.

  “C’mon! I’ll take you over to your mother.” She marched him to Susannah’s side and then went into the kitchen, leaving me alone with Vaughn.

  I was curious about him. He seemed so nice. “Tell me a bit about yourself. Do you have a family?”

  He nodded. “I have a daughter who works in D.C. for a lobbyist. Her older brother lives in San Francisco and works with computers.”

  “You’re alone?”

  Sadness flicked in his eyes. “My wife died three years ago.”

  “I’m sorry. I know what it’s like to be left on your own. My husband and I are divorced, and my daughter, Liz, just completed her first year at Boston University.”

  He finished a bite of salad. “I keep busy with the show, of course, and when I can, I go to my summer place on Long Island. There’s always something going on there.”

  We continued to make small talk. I was surprised by how down-to-earth he was. We chatted for a while longer, and then I excused myself to go back to work.

  During the next few days, it became a habit for Vaughn and me to sit together for lunch. I learned Vaughn was an avid reader, and he liked to dabble with painting whenever possible. He confided he’d brought his painting supplies with him and hoped to be able to find some free time to capture the colors in the flowers and the Gulf waters.