Margaritas at the Beach House Hotel Read online

  “We can’t have that,” I said, trying to form words in my mind that wouldn’t offend the ghost of my grandmother, who’d raised me following my parents’ deadly automobile accident. Growing up with a kind but distant woman who had very strict rules about etiquette, proper speech, and ladylike deportment, it had taken me a while to get used to Rhonda. She was prone to say exactly what was on her mind with words that had never left my mouth. Even now, though she’d loosened me up a bit, I knew it was best if I did the talking.

  As we had so many times for many different reasons, Rhonda and I descended the front steps of the hotel together. I stopped us midway and motioned the reporters toward us.

  “We’re here to answer any questions we can and ask you to go away then and leave the property to our guests. It’s a fair proposition. We don’t want your being here to escalate into asking the police for help.”

  “We heard the vice president is staying here. Is that true? And is she about to resign because of personal difficulties with the president?”

  “All of you who’ve been to the hotel before know that we cannot confirm or deny anyone’s presence, that we provide all of our guests, known or not, strict privacy. We’ve built our business on that promise. As to the other question, we would have no such information.”

  “If Amelia Swanson is here, do you have any news about her plans?”

  “As I said, we wouldn’t have any such information no matter where she might be staying.”

  “We have the right to know these things,” protested a young woman, who clutched her microphone intently.

  I stared right at her. “Unfortunately, you don’t.”

  The woman started to protest.

  “You heard her,” said Rhonda, starting to move down the steps.

  I grabbed hold of her arm. “Now, we’re asking you all to leave. There’s nothing we can tell you. If there comes a time when one of our guests would like to hold a news conference here at the hotel, we’d be glad to accommodate you.”

  Grumbling among themselves, the group of eight moved toward the gates of the hotel.

  Rhonda and I watched them go.

  “Frickin’ vultures,” said Rhonda.

  We stayed there watching as the last of the trucks pulled away from the curb outside the hotel.

  A low-slung, bottle-green Jaguar came between the front gates and pulled up to the front circle at our feet.

  I gripped Rhonda’s arm as Brock Goodwin climbed out of the car and faced us with a look of triumph. “I’m hereby giving you notice that I’m filing a complaint against the hotel. Our peaceful neighborhood was disrupted by all the news trucks blocking our streets and making a nuisance that won’t be tolerated.”

  “Brock, you bastard ...” began Rhonda, her hands fisted.

  I elbowed her and quickly spoke. “Considering that your house is at the other end of the neighborhood and no one else seems to be bothered by it, we’ll simply disregard your action. You continue to try to make our lives difficult, Brock, but your tactics won’t work, as we’ve proved to you over and over.”

  “Disregard it? You can’t do that. I will bring it up at the next Neighborhood Association meeting.”

  “I’m sure you will,” I said, forcing a cheerfulness I didn’t feel into my voice. I’d learned that you couldn’t act defeated in front of him, or he’d pounce like a starving cat after a helpless mouse.

  “C’mon, Annie, let’s leave before I do something to that face of his,” said Rhonda in a stage whisper that Brock heard.

  He studied us and shook his head. “How the two of you can run an exclusive place like this is beyond me. But, believe me, the day will come when I’ll shut you down once and for all. This estate was never meant to be a hotel.”

  Ignoring his words, Rhonda and I headed up the stairs and inside.

  One of our guests was lingering at the door. “Who is that fellow, and why is he so angry?” he asked, indicating Brock’s car roaring out of the property.

  “A troublemaker,” blurted Rhonda. “That’s what he is.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosy.” He gave us a sheepish look. “I’m a writer, and we always like to know what’s going on around us.”

  I laughed. I knew exactly who he was. “I loved your last thriller,” I said to the famous author. “The ending really fooled me.”

  He grinned. “Me, too. Sometimes I’m as surprised as anyone when I’m writing it.”

  A pretty young woman joined him. “Ready to go in for breakfast?” she asked him. “I don’t want to miss out on those cinnamon rolls.”

  As they walked away, I turned to Rhonda. “Who knew cinnamon rolls would be a part of our success?”

  Rhonda beamed at me. “My recipe worked, didn’t it? Consuela does a nice job with them.”

  “She’s a blessing,” I said, meaning it with my whole heart. While Jean-Luc reigned in the afternoons and evenings, Consuela was the early riser who ran the kitchen for breakfast. I was happy that Manny and Consuela had moved back into the apartment we’d built for them over the expanded garage, which now housed a commercial laundry and a wonderful small spa on the ground floor.

  ###

  We returned to our office, and after spending time reviewing sales figures, I decided to talk to Debra about the problem with the news people.

  “Want to come?” I said to Rhonda.

  “I can’t. I promised the kids’ pre-school teacher I’d visit today. It’s a special day for mothers.”

  “Okay, see you later.” With Bernie running the hotel, Rhonda and I had the freedom to come and go when we hadn’t scheduled meetings and other events.

  Instead of leaving through the front door, I went out back and took a secret path through the landscaping to the guesthouse. We’d purposely kept the path hidden as much as possible among the oleander bushes, hibiscus, and evergreens planted along this edge of the property. Lindsay Thaxton was just one of many people who’d sought refuge at the house.

  Now, as I approached it, I thought back to when Rhonda first had the idea of turning a little caretaker’s cottage into a small, luxurious home for me. I’d still been trying to figure out how I could start my life over again with no job, no money, no house of my own. The renovated cottage was where Vaughn and I first got together. That, alone, would make me love it better than any other home in which I’d lived.

  I walked up to the front door and knocked.

  After several seconds passed, the door was cracked open, and Debra peered out at me.

  “Ah, it’s you. Come on in. Lindsay and I have just finished our exercises.”

  “Thank you.” I entered the house, and when I noticed Lindsay out on the patio, I took a moment to speak privately with Debra.

  “I’m sure you may have noticed or heard people out in front of the hotel. Several reporters and their news vans were here asking questions about Amelia. As per our normal routine, we informed them we never discuss who’s staying at the hotel. We have a policy of respecting our guests’ privacy. All of our staff are trained as well.”

  “Good to have that in place,” said Debra.

  “Bernie told you about the phone call yesterday from the so-called White House, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. It’s a bit disconcerting, but nothing too outlandish. Lindsay has been instructed not to use the house phone here at any time. She can use my iPhone if she wishes.”

  I glanced at her lying down on a deck chair outside and asked, “How’s she doing?”

  Debra let out a long sigh. “Her physical injuries are healing. We’re doing what we can to keep her body strong. The mental issues? That’s another story. The woman was almost killed by a man she thought loved her and who became a monster.”

  “I have the name of a wonderful therapist if she wishes. One of our special guests used her and is still in touch with her.”

  Debra’s eyes brightened. “I’ll tell Lindsay.”

  “I’d like her to know we’re doing our best to keep her safe. Wit
h you and the incognito security guards we’ve added, we don’t foresee any problems.”

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed a landscaper hanging around who, I’m sure, is not a real gardener,” said Debra. “His clothes are much too clean.”

  I grinned. “Hopefully, no one else will notice. May I speak to Lindsay?”

  “She’d love to see you. I’m not the most exciting person around.” Debra shot me a look full of humor.

  “I’m sure she’s very grateful to have you here with her. But I hope you have the opportunity to relax, go on the beach, and enjoy some of the delicious food from the hotel.”

  “Thanks. We both intend to do all that in good time,” said Debra.

  I liked Debra. She was pleasant and upbeat. And one good look at her well-muscled body told me she’d be a formidable match for most any adversary. The gun secured at her waist was another clue that this wasn’t a game for either of them.

  I walked out to the patio to say hello to Lindsay.

  Seeing her in a bathing suit, I couldn’t help but notice bruises yellowing on her thin torso as they healed. Her arm was in a removable cast and was resting on a table beside her chair.

  “Good morning, Lindsay,” I said quietly.

  Startled, her eyes flew open, and she clasped a hand to her chest.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” I said. “May I sit down?”

  “Certainly.” She started to rise.

  “No, no, please stay where you are. I just wanted a minute to see how you’re doing and if there’s anything else you need or want.”

  “Everything is very nice, thank you. I love being in a small house. It makes me feel safer to know that Debra is near if I need her.” Her eyes filled. “I’m working on getting past the memories.”

  “I told Debra I know of a good therapist. Other special guests who’ve had traumas similar to yours have used her.”

  “Thank you. I’m still not sure what I’m going to do. Thomas’s brother wants me to return to Washington, but I’m not about to do that. I’ve filed divorce papers, and after all I’ve been through, I want nothing to do with the president or his entire family.” Her voice caught. “Some of them even thought it was my fault I made Thomas so mad.”

  “That’s B.S. and you know it. That’s the classic blame-the-victim scenario,” I said, not caring if I was overstepping boundaries. The sight of this emaciated, wounded woman made me want to scream with frustration. It was never okay for a woman to be beaten up. Did they all live in a bubble? Or were they so concerned about their image they didn’t want to face reality?

  I reached over and took hold of her hand. “Whether you decide to stay after Amelia returns or not, I want you to know we’re doing everything we can to keep you safe with us. We’ve had to send reporters away, but there’s nothing for them here. We don’t give out information on any of our guests. Aside from that, our security guards and Debra should help you feel comfortable.”

  Her eyes welled with tears. “It’s something you don’t get over. If Amelia hadn’t forced me to sign those papers, I probably wouldn’t have, thinking I was doing something wonderful for our country by keeping bad news about all of them private.” She let out a sound of disgust. “Talk about bullshit.”

  I gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. “We’re just glad you’re here. By the way, I hope you’re enjoying some good food.”

  Lindsay’s face lit up. “It’s delicious. Someday, I hope to meet the chef.”

  “Jean-Luc is a nice guy. He lost his wife two years ago in an automobile accident in Europe. I thought he might not be willing to stay on here at the hotel, but he’s part of our hotel family. We’re lucky to have him.”

  Lindsay smiled, and I could see what a beautiful woman she was beneath the bruises. “It’s lucky for all of us he stayed.”

  I said goodbye to Lindsay and Debra and headed back to the hotel, my mind spinning.

  ###

  Inside the kitchen, Jean-Luc was overseeing kitchen staff getting food prepped for dinner. He was in his late sixties, of average height, with brown hair graying at the temples and long enough to tie back behind his head. His clear blue eyes seemed to miss nothing as his staff, like soldier ants, did as he directed. Not a handsome man in the usual sense, his features were regular and pleasant. He carried an air of command about him that was intriguing rather than off-putting. Rhonda had once called him a French frog during their initial battles, but even though he had forced Rhonda to give up her kitchen, they were close friends.

  “Bonjour, Ann! What brings you to my kitchen?” he said in his charming French accent.

  “I have a favor to ask of you,” I said, inhaling the aromas of a lovely meal being created.

  “Ah, oui,” he said. “For you ... yes.”

  “Thanks. A certain special guest has told me she’d love to meet you someday. As she’s here recuperating, I thought it would be a nice gesture on both our parts if you were to take a treat over to her and her bodyguard.”

  He paused, looked around the kitchen, and turned back to me. “Okay. Later.”

  “I’ll go ahead and send your photo to them, so they know who to expect. Is that agreeable to you?”

  He bobbed his head. “Yes, I will do this for you.”

  “Good. Now tell me, what’s for dinner?”

  He grinned and rubbed his hands together with delight. “We have a variety today. A little beef, a little lamb, fresh snapper, a few other treats.”

  “It all sounds lovely. I told Vaughn I’d bring home dinner tonight if he didn’t want to grill steak.”

  “Ah, he could grill the snapper. It’s beautiful, and I’m putting together a special herbal blend to use in the oil to spread over the fish. C’est magnifique!”

  “Wonderful! Please put some fish aside for me.” I grinned. “And I’ll take the herbal blend too.”

  “For you, always.” He kissed me on one cheek, then the other in the French manner.

  I beamed at him, grateful he was, as I’d described to Lindsay, part of our hotel family.

  CHAPTER SIX

  That afternoon when I arrived home, Vaughn and Trudy greeted me.

  “Where’s Robbie?”

  Vaughn grinned. “He’s already next door for the evening. He and Brett are playing a special game, something about space cowboys, and he didn’t want to miss out.”

  “I’m so glad he has a friend like Brett. Growing up, I was pretty lonely living in a neighborhood of large homes separated by a lot of land and with a grandmother who didn’t think sleepovers and such were a good idea.”

  Vaughn wrapped an arm around me. “Poor little girl. Tell you what, I’ll happily be your playmate.”

  A thrill of anticipation wove through me. “You’re such a tease.”

  “How about joining me in the pool, and I’ll show you how serious I am?” Vaughn wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

  Chuckling happily, I turned to go to our bedroom.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “To get my bathing suit on,” I replied, liking his idea of a swim. “By the way, I left the snapper packed in ice and the herb mixture I told you about on the kitchen counter. Will you put it in the refrigerator?”

  “Yes. Hold on.” He slid the fish inside the refrigerator, hurried over to me, and swept me up in his arms. “How can I think of dinner when I know you’re going to take your clothes off?”

  He carried me into the bedroom, nuzzling my neck all the way. I loved that we were always willing to play these games. It was something new and wonderful for me. Looking back at my relationship with Robert, I realized it had always been about his wanting my business and my money to pay for it. The thought hurt.

  I nestled closer to Vaughn. As he placed me atop the bed, I looked up at him and saw the love that I’d always wished for there in his eyes.

  ###

  Later, wishing Vaughn didn’t have to leave for New York the next day, I strolled into the kitchen in my bathing suit. While Robbie was
next door, I intended to have a glass of wine or two in the pool with Vaughn before worrying about dinner. When Robbie first came to live with us, it was an adjustment to having him around, forcing us to delay times like this.

  Vaughn joined me from outdoors. I took a moment to study him. For a man in his fifties, he was in excellent shape. He had to watch his weight for the show, but he enjoyed being outdoors and ran almost every morning, giving him a healthy physique.

  “Would you like some wine?” he asked. “I picked up a nice pinot noir from the Willamette Valley at the store. A Chandler Hill wine from the Lettie’s Creek Vineyard.”

  “Mmm, sounds delightful. I’ll get things ready for you to grill, and then I’ll join you.”

  While Vaughn and I lived in my house on the hotel property, we delighted in being close to the beach. But gazing out the kitchen window at the pool and beyond it to the water, I was pleased we’d been able to find this quiet spot. And even though it was just Robbie living with us, we had plenty of room for guests with enough privacy for everyone.

  I set the table, got out the salad bowl and dressing, and headed out to the pool.

  Vaughn was in the heated water lounging on a step in the shallow end. I joined him there.

  He handed me my wine in a plastic glass and raised his. “Here’s to us! May we always be this happy!”

  “Hear! Hear!” I said, clinking my glass against his.

  We watched the sun gradually lower toward the horizon.

  I turned to him with a smile. “Maybe we’ll see the green flash tonight. The sky is clear enough.”

  He drew me closer. “Whether we do see it or not, I don’t need it to tell me that with you by my side, I have all the luck I need.”

  But he, too, studied the sky as the sun began to slip below the horizon. If the sky was clear and conditions just right, one could see a green flash at the exact moment the sun dropped from view. I had yet to see it, but I never tired of looking for it. And I wasn’t the only one. Sunsets on the Gulf Coast were highlights for visitors and residents alike.