Margaritas at the Beach House Hotel Page 3

  “That’s a side of the story that may never be told,” I said. “For us, it’s a matter of keeping Lindsay safe until she can decide where to go from here.”

  “It’s a shame that this happened, but we’ll do our best to help her,” said Bernie. “I’ll make my way over there now, and if any new information comes out of the visit, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  “Thanks, Bernie.” After watching him head out of the hotel, I turned to Rhonda. “How about a walk along the beach? I need fresh air after all this talk.”

  “Go ahead. I’m going to stay here for a while. Dorothy offered to help with the mailings, and I want to show her what she needs to do.”

  “Okay, thanks. Say hi to her and tell her I’ll see her in a little bit.” I left the library, went into the office to take off my suit jacket and change into sandals, and headed outside.

  As I crossed the pool area, I observed our guests sprawled in lounge chairs, enjoying the sunny afternoon on this April day. Although I noticed some wearing headphones, there was no loud beat of rock music, only some spa music playing softly in the background so that all the guests were relaxing. It was a pleasure to hear it. Playing loud rock music in the hotel had been just one of many things we’d fought about with the company who’d once bought us out.

  As I kicked off my sandals and stepped onto the beach, I drew a deep breath of salt air and wiggled my toes in the soft, warm sand. It was always a special moment for me to be near the water. I loved the sound of the waves as they kissed the beach and rushed back like shy lovers. I faced the Gulf and allowed my muscles to relax from the tension of the day. The vice president’s reassurances hadn’t fooled me. The responsibility that lay ahead for Rhonda and me was heavy. Politics could be a nasty business, and we’d landed in the middle of something that could turn ugly. Very ugly.

  I moved along, forcing myself to think of better things. We’d recently implemented a custom-designed program for post-partum mothers and were hoping to attract guests who needed a break, a place to relax, a time to feel better about themselves. Vaughn’s daughter, Nell, had recently had a baby and had asked if she could come to the hotel for such a retreat. Rhonda and I pounced on that idea and were now sending out notices to former guests to promote this new service. That’s why Dorothy Stern was coming to the hotel to meet with Rhonda about the mailings.

  Short and feisty with thick-lensed glasses, Dorothy sometimes fancifully reminded me of a grasshopper springing about with energy as she went from one project to another in her retirement. She loved best of all working with us at the hotel a couple of days a week. Rhonda and I adored her. She’d helped us from our very first year in business and still kept us informed of sneaky maneuvers by Brock Goodwin, the president of the Neighborhood Association.

  I walked down to the water’s edge and stuck my feet into the frothy lace of it. It was refreshingly chilly. By summer, the water would welcome me with warmth.

  Staring out at the waves, I watched seagulls and terns whirl above me in the air, their raucous cries riding the wind above their wings. Beside me, little sandpipers scurried along the sand, leaving tiny imprints, reminders to the world that they were there.

  After living most of my life in the northeast, I treasured moments like this. My thoughts flew to the first time Vaughn and I had stood at the water’s edge holding hands. I’d fallen in love with him at that moment. It still seemed magical to me that we shared such a strong, steady love for one another. A beloved soap-opera star, he could have had his choice of many women. Lord knew, his fans all wished he was theirs.

  I strolled down the beach and laughed at myself as I studied the shore for unusual shells like any new tourist. It had become a habit of mine. One never knew what hidden treasures they might find among the broken remains of other shells.

  I felt a presence and looked up to find Brock Goodwin strolling toward me. I paused. It was too late for me to turn and pretend I hadn’t seen him. My flesh chilled at the thought of talking to him. A handsome, trim man in his sixties, Brock was a smooth-talker and a liar. No friend of either the hotel or Rhonda and me.

  Forcing myself to be civil, I waited for what would most likely end in a confrontation of sorts. Brock was still very angry with Rhonda and me for canceling an order from his company when the hotel changed hands back to us.

  “Well, look what the wind brought ashore,” he said, his smile as false as his foolish attempt to say something pleasant.

  “Good afternoon, Brock,” I replied. For our business’s sake, I would do my best to be pleasant. Lord knew, Rhonda wouldn’t. And as much as I detested the man, he was an influential person in our community.

  “Say, I saw a black limousine and a big, black SUV glide out of the gates of the hotel. What famous person are you hosting now?”

  “You know I don’t talk about my guests, Brock. We provide them privacy.”

  His chest puffed out. “I understand you can’t share such information with just anyone, but as the president of the Neighborhood Association, I have the right to know these things.”

  I shook my head. “Unfortunately, you don’t.”

  “Well, no bother. I have my ways. I’ll find out sooner or later.” His blue eyes pierced mine. “By the way, you might be interested to know that the decorative items you and Rhonda refused to buy, honoring the commitment your former owners made with me, are now sitting in a hotel in Miami. You missed out on having some unusual pieces on display at The Beach House Hotel. But then, you two have never really understood what damage you did to me.”

  I couldn’t help the sigh that rolled out of my mouth. “Brock, you know perfectly well that your deal with them was a payoff for your voting to allow them to make changes to the property—changes that would have destroyed what Rhonda and I built.”

  He shrugged and then lowered his voice as he leaned forward. “Some businesses understand the need to change with the times. Others don’t and will suffer the consequences for it.”

  I backed up. “Are you threatening me?”

  He glanced around to make sure no one was close. “A word of warning. Ours is a close-knit community. It would pay to be kind to everyone.”

  Trying to keep my cool, I said, “Bullying won’t help your cause. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”

  I stepped around him and continued walking, more briskly now, aware of the darts of anger he was shooting in my direction. In his own way, he was a dangerous man.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Later, back at the hotel, Rhonda announced she was ready for a break. “How about a margarita? It’s almost time to leave, but I need a breather after all that has happened today.”

  “Sounds good.” Every once in a while, on a late afternoon, Rhonda and I grabbed one of the hotel’s signature drinks and escaped to a balcony on the second floor reachable only through a storage room. Certain of privacy, it had become a favorite place for us to talk over things while overseeing the hotel's activity.

  Sitting there, I told Rhonda about my confrontation with Brock.

  “What a frickin’ jerk,” she said, raising a fist in the air. “Dorothy just told me he’s holding a meeting about our request to put up a privacy gate between the beach and the walk leading to our pool patio on our property. I tried to explain the gate was on our property, not on the area marked as a public beach. But she told me Brock isn’t presenting it that way to the board.”

  “It’s a good thing Dorothy is on the board, or we’d never be able to win any battle against Brock and his cronies.”

  Rhonda’s soft laugh tinged on the nasty. “With her help and your willingness to speak at the meetings, we’ve won every challenge.”

  “True.” I met her high five with my hand. “But with Brock, there will always be another reason to be careful. He told me that no matter what, he’d find out who was staying at our hotel. It seems he saw the vice president’s limo and escort pull out of the hotel. Thank goodness, both vehicles were unmarked.”


  “We’ll have to make sure he never knows. He’s the type of person who’d happily sell the information to a newspaper.”

  “Yeah, I think so too. What’s on the schedule for tonight?”

  “A private dinner for the opera star appearing at the theater in Sarasota. Annette is going to act as hostess.”

  “Perfect.” Bernie’s bride, Annette, had turned out to be a fantastic resource for us. An older, cultured woman accustomed to meeting interesting people, Annette was a warm, attentive hostess to the private parties we held from time to time. It also allowed her to be part of the business that kept Bernie so fully occupied.

  “Any word from Angela about the baby?”

  “No. I’m going to stop by and see her on my way home. She had a doctor’s appointment today.” Rhonda clasped her hands together. “I’m praying it’s a girl. I adore Evan, but he needs a sister. Then Angela won’t have to worry about trying for more.”

  Frowning, I said, “You haven’t mentioned this to her, have you?”

  “No, but the time may come when I can. She and Reggie didn’t waste any time getting her pregnant with Evan, and now this one. I’d hate to see her have so many kids she could never step into the business here.”

  “Either way, it’s her choice.”

  “Or not,” said Rhonda. “It wasn’t a choice for me to have Drew so quickly following Willow’s birth.” Her face softened with affection. “But I love those two so much it sometimes hurts. Ya know?”

  I gave her a warm smile. “I do. I’ve enjoyed having Robbie in my life. With Liz, I was so worried about being a good mother I sometimes didn’t enjoy her. I’m much more confident with him, and having Vaughn be such a big part of his life makes it wonderful. Robert was never into that with Liz. He always said he was too busy with work.”

  “With the business that was yours in the beginning?” Rhonda said with a snort.

  “The very one. God! I was such a fool to let him take my ideas and turn them into his business.” Even though Robert gave me the role of vice president of The Rutherford Company, he made sure everyone believed it was his alone, never publicly acknowledging it was my money that had initially funded it. Women like my daughter, Liz, were smarter today.

  “Well, I’m on my way,” said Rhonda. “I’ll think of some way to keep Brock from ruining our promise to Amelia Swanson and her sister.”

  “Good luck with that,” I said, grinning. As much as I disliked Brock, my feelings about him were not nearly as deep as Rhonda’s. Any friend of hers knew how she detested liars and cheats, like her ex, Sal DelMonte. Her good heart, alone, had allowed him refuge in her home when he was dying of cancer.

  I went downstairs to Bernie’s office, knocked on the door, and waited for him to answer.

  He startled me by opening the door and motioning me inside.

  “What is it?” I asked, unsettled by his serious expression.

  “We may have a problem. I just received a call from the White House. At least that’s what the person on the other end of the line said. That person asked to speak to the vice president. I know it wasn’t the president.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told him we had no such person registered here, that even if we did, we never divulge information about any of guests.”

  My pulse raced at the implications. “And the voice didn’t sound familiar?”

  “No. I don’t believe it was even a staff member. The ID number on my phone said ‘Washington, D. C.,’ but in today’s world, anyone can spoof a phone number to manipulate that kind of information.”

  “You did the right thing, Bernie, because as far as I’m concerned, not even President Thaxton is going to get any information about our special guest. As far as he or anyone else is concerned, it’s private.”

  “I agree,” Bernie quickly said. “I’ll speak once more to the people at the front desk and tell them no calls are to go through to the guesthouse, and any calls from Washington, D. C. are to be directed to one of the three of us. Anything else?”

  “Nothing I can think of at the moment except to let you know that our standard policy of giving no information of any kind to Brock Goodwin remains in place.”

  Bernie made a face. “Can’t stand the man.”

  “He’s not a friend of this hotel. That’s for sure.” I checked my watch and rose. “I’m going to head home. Tim is covering for you?”

  “Yes, and I’ll fill him in on the situation.” His cheeks colored. “I’m going to stick around for a bit. Annette is handling the private dinner, and I promised to say hello to the group.”

  “She does such a wonderful job,” I said, smiling. “I’m so glad she agreed to work for us.”

  We said goodnight, and I left him, anxious to get home. Vaughn was in town for a long weekend before returning to New York to shoot more scenes for the show. Even after so many years on television, The Sins of the Children was still a top-rated favorite.

  ###

  As I drove into the driveway of Vaughn’s and my house, my spirits lifted. Sitting on the shore of a small inlet from the Gulf, it was one of only a few homes in this very private area.

  I parked and climbed out of the car, anxious to see “my boys.”

  Trudy, our black-and-tan dachshund, burst out of the pet door and raced over to me, wagging her tail so hard her whole body shook.

  Chuckling, I bent over to scratch her ears as she liked and then straightened as Robbie came running toward me.

  I held out my arms and caught him in an embrace. Six, now, Robbie was as sweet as ever, still needing hugs from me. I promised myself I’d continue doing this for as long as he’d allow.

  “Hi, Mom! Dad and I have packed a surprise picnic.” His dark eyes sparkled with excitement.

  Trudy barked for attention, and as Robbie bent to pet her, Vaughn appeared. Tall and trim, with dark, curly hair slightly gray at the temples, brown eyes that drew you in, and an air of confidence, he was my hero.

  My body came alive at the sexy smile he gave me. It was the same smile I’d seen on his face on television, but I knew this one was especially for me. It had taken me a while to be able to distinguish between the two, and despite one-time rumors of a relationship with his co-star, I’d learned Vaughn would always be true to me. He was that kind of man.

  He reached for me, and I nestled close to him before lifting my face for a kiss. When his lips met mine, my body hummed with anticipation. When Vaughn was at home, we made up for the lonely nights he was away by enjoying a loving relationship. For a man in his fifties, he was fit in every way.

  Robbie came close, and I wrapped my arm around him, pulling him in for a group hug. We used to call it a “pig pile” sitting on the couch when he first came to us and needed to know we loved him.

  He looked up at me, his eyes shining, and for a brief moment, I saw a bit of Robert in him. That used to bother me, but it no longer did. This beautiful boy already showed signs of being very different from his father.

  “Guess where we’re going on our picnic?” Robbie said with a teasing grin.

  Playing along, I said, “Mars? The Moon?”

  Giggling, he said, “No, Mom! We’re going sailing!”

  “Nice!” Vaughn had taught Robbie how to sail as soon as he could. Now, Robbie was becoming a proficient sailor who loved being out on the water, and we’d gone from a day sailer to a 34-foot Pearson, a beauty of a sailboat. It had taken Robbie, Liz, and Vaughn several days to name her. The name they chose, Zephyr, suited her because no matter how hot it was, being on her was as refreshing as a gentle breeze.

  “Thought we’d head right out to the Gulf, sail for a bit, then anchor for dinner. Sound good?” Vaughn asked.

  “Sounds perfect,” I answered. “Let me get changed into comfortable clothes and make sure we have some white wine chilled. I’ve had an interesting day, which I can tell you about later.” I glanced at Robbie and back to Vaughn.

  Understanding, he said, “I’ve got some news too.
But it can wait. I just want to enjoy my time with you right now.”

  At the sound of a car pulling up, I turned.

  “I’ve invited Liz and Chad to join us,” Vaughn said, smiling and waving to them as they walked up the driveway toward us.

  “Lizzie!” cried Robbie, running to his sister.

  Tears stung my eyes as I watched them hug. Though they didn’t share facial features, there was an easy grace to their bodies that was similar, a trait from their father. Liz’s long blond hair and sparkling blue eyes were different from Robbie’s dark-brown hair and brown eyes, but they both had a way of charming people that came naturally to them. I adored them both.

  After releasing Robbie, Liz looked up at me.

  “Hi, sweetie! How’s it going?”

  “Okay, Mom,” she said, but I knew by the sheen of tears in her eyes that something was wrong.

  “Come chat while I change my clothes,” I said to her, after giving her a quick hug and doing the same to her husband, Chad.

  We left the men talking and went inside the house directly to the bedroom I shared with Vaughn. With a sitting area that overlooked the back lawn and down to the water, the room was one of my favorite spots.

  “Want to tell me about it?” I asked Liz as she sank onto the king-sized bed and gave me a glum look.

  “I got my period this morning. I’m so disappointed.” She sniffled. “I’m trying not to let Chad know I’m so upset. You know all those stories about couples splitting up after trying for a baby.”

  “Oh, honey,” I said, sitting beside her and wrapping an arm around her. “You guys have been married for only a few months.”

  “I know, but we want children right away.”

  I took a moment and then said what was on my mind. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Angela about to have baby number two, does it?”

  She gave me a sheepish look. “Well, sorta. I mean, we’ve always talked about having our children grow up together. At this rate, her kids will be babysitters for mine.”