Breakfast at the Beach House Hotel Read online

  I loped along the sandy surface of the beach. Lightheartedly, I held out my arms, dipping and twirling like I’d done as a child, lost in the sense of freedom it gave me.

  “I hope I’m not intruding,” said a familiar voice behind me.

  I jerked to a stop and whirled around to face Brock. “What are you doing up so early?”

  In just a pair of running shorts, his well-exercised body glistened with sweat. “When I’m in town, I enjoy rising at dawn and having the beach to myself. Well, almost to myself.”

  He winked at me, and I gathered my nerve. “I was going to call you today, Brock. I want to apologize for the way I acted the other night. I’m not used to dating yet.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry, too. I was rushing you, and even though I knew it, I couldn’t stop myself.”

  I cleared my throat. “We need to talk about the hotel. I thought you were going to help us, not hurt us.”

  “That depends on you.” He gave me a meaningful look. “The gourmet restaurant at The Royal Hotel is great. How about I take you there? We can discuss it then. Sound okay for tonight?”

  Feeling trapped, I gulped. “All right. I’ll be ready to answer any questions you might have.”

  “Fair enough.” He grinned. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Glad I ran into you, so to speak.”

  As I watched him sprint away, my earlier happiness evaporated.

  ###

  The doorman at the hotel assisted me out of Brock’s sleek, bottle-green Jaguar. I took a deep breath, determined to get through the evening the best I could.

  Nattily dressed in white slacks and navy blazer, Brock took my arm and ushered me inside the hotel. As we crossed the marble floor of the lobby, he nodded to an elderly couple walking slowly by us, then waved to another gentleman standing next to the front desk.

  When we entered the L’etoile restaurant, the hostess beamed at him. “Good evening, Mr. Goodwin.”

  The maitre d’ hurried over. “Good evening, Mr. Goodwin. ‘Nice to see you again.”

  Obviously enjoying the attention, Brock introduced me.

  As we were being seated at a table in the corner, a well-dressed couple waved to Brock from across the room. Brock excused himself and left to talk to them.

  Alone, I took the opportunity to study the understated opulence around me. The dark, rich tones of the wood-paneled walls were warmed by the polished finish of the lighter-colored wainscoting. Crystal wall sconces shot glitters of light everywhere, reflected by the crystal glasses placed atop crisp, white-linen tablecloths. A female musician sat in the far corner of the room playing a golden harp. Strands of her soft music wafted throughout the room, redolent with tantalizing aromas coming from the kitchen. I let out a sigh of appreciation. It had been a long time since I’d been taken to a nice restaurant for dinner.

  Brock rejoined me. “That’s one of the city councilmen sitting over there. They’re celebrating their anniversary. I had to say hello.” He lifted the leather-covered wine list he’d left behind. “Let’s have a nice red wine.”

  Recalling the many times Robert had done the same, I sat by as Brock went through the procedure of ordering and approving the wine.

  The appetizers arrived, and between bites of garlic-butter-coated escargots, I opened the topic that had been hanging unspoken between us. “How do you feel about the plans for the tiny hotel Rhonda and I plan to open? I understand you have some concerns.”

  Brock’s expression lost all charm. His nostrils flared as he waggled a finger at me. “You two ladies have to understand the ramifications to the entire neighborhood. It’s important to the rest of us that property values not drop. We’ve all suffered during the latest financial upheavals. For many people, their homes are a major investment.” His tone was so hostile I wondered if he was in some financial trouble.

  “I understand,” I said firmly, “but we believe our project will add value to the neighborhood, not take anything away from it.”

  Suddenly his whole manner changed. Giving me a smile that was too quick to seem sincere, he clasped my hand. “Let’s not let this little disagreement ruin the evening. What do you say?”

  “Okay.” But I was still upset by the anger I’d heard in his voice. He’s like a chameleon, I thought, not liking him very much.

  In the course of the meal, we talked about other hotels in the area.

  “It’s amazing that a town this size has so many hotels, but then, the beaches here are exceptional, very close to those in Sarasota,” I smiled. “It makes for a very nice situation.”

  He frowned. “Yes, but you do realize, don’t you, that as a long-time resident of Sabal, I’ve learned quite a bit about what this city needs and what it doesn’t want. People like me, who take an interest in what is going on, will shape the future of Sabal, not you newcomers.”

  I held back a retort. A bullshitter, Rhonda had called him. I thought he was more like a pompous ass.

  The waiter cleared our dishes.

  Brock leaned toward me. “Let’s not order dessert here. I’ve got something better in mind at my house. No need to worry. You’re perfectly safe with me.” At his wink, my stomach roiled. Were we going to have another evening of him overreaching the boundaries I set? I didn’t think I could do it, not even for Rhonda and the hotel.

  The maitre d’ approached our table. “Mr. Goodwin, I’m sorry to disturb you, but there is an urgent phone call for your guest.” He turned to me with an expression of regret. “Ms. Rutherford, if you’ll come this way.”

  My thoughts on Liz, I hurried over to the small host stand and picked up the phone.

  “Annie, it’s Rhonda. Liz couldn’t get hold of you on your cell, so she called here, crying. She wouldn’t tell me what it’s all about; just that she needed to speak to you right away. It’s something she has to talk over with you alone. I knew you’d want to know.”

  My body turned to ice. Every “mother-nerve” in my body vibrated. I hung up and trotted back to Brock. “I’m sorry. I need to go home right away. My daughter Liz has some sort of emergency, and I don’t want to call her from here.”

  His features hardened.

  “I’m sorry, but it can’t wait.”

  We left the restaurant and got settled in Brock’s car. The silence in the car was deafening, but I vowed not to interrupt it. Brock was acting like a spoiled little boy. When at last he pulled in front of The Beach House, I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Good night. Again, I’m sorry. Thanks for dinner,” I said, weak with relief the date was over.

  He barely managed to say goodbye before speeding off.

  I raced into the house, brushing past Rhonda in my haste to reach my phone. My fingers shook as I frantically punched in the number. I couldn’t imagine what had caused my calm, cool, collected daughter to phone in tears. It wasn’t like her.

  Rhonda hung around the kitchen doorway as I waited for Liz to pick up.

  “Liz? What’s wrong, honey?” I asked when she finally answered.

  “Mom?” She burst into tears. “It’s everything. I got a C in biology and a D in history. Can you believe it? At this rate, I’ll flunk out by June.”

  “What happened?” She was used to A’s and B’s.

  “I forgot to hand in my history paper. I did it, but I missed class when we were supposed to hand it in. The teacher said she’d let me know if the grade can be changed after she has had time to read it.”

  “What about biology?”

  “The professor agreed to let me do some extra credit work.”

  “Is that it?” I asked, still wondering at her behavior.

  “I got my period and wouldn’t you know, my face has broken out, and everyone but me seems to have a date Saturday night.” The barely hidden wail in her voice told me there must be more.

  “I’m sorry.” I waited for more information.

  “But that’s not the worst of it, Mom. Dad called and told me I had to attend a baby shower for Kandie, whether I want to or not. I thi
nk I hate him, Mom, and I really, really hate her for all she’s done to you.” She started crying.

  I wished I could float through the air and give her the hug she needed. “Listen, Liz, I know how upset you are, but I want you to try and put everything aside. Get a good night’s sleep and call me tomorrow. I’m sure things will seem better then.”

  “Mom, I may hate them, but I really, really love you. You know?”

  “Yeah, I know,” I said softly and realized that no matter how much pain Robert had caused me, he’d also given me the person I loved most in the world. After reassuring Liz that things would turn out okay, I hung up and let out a long breath.

  “Everything all right?” asked Rhonda. She gave me a worried look.

  I filled her in on the conversation. “This whole divorce thing is harder on her than I thought. She’s become so emotional about things. I’ve got to work hard to keep things on an even keel for a while.”

  “My Angie doesn’t want anything to do with her father. I understand, but she won’t even talk about it.” Rhonda put an arm around my shoulder. “Liz is strong. She’ll be all right.”

  “I know. It’s just going to take time. But Robert and Kandie don’t make it easy.”

  Rhonda sighed. “Too bad you cut short your evening with Brock. I’m sorry, I spoiled it.”

  I threw my arms around her and hugged her hard. “You have no idea how grateful I am.”

  ###

  At the end of each work day, I fell into the habit of surveying progress on the cottage. As much as Rhonda and I were getting along, I was becoming more and more eager to have my own space. I fretted when workmen failed to show up, rain kept work from being done, or lumber and other supplies weren’t delivered on time. I’d all but given up hope of being able to move in when everything finally started to come together. Everything that is, except Robert’s expected check—the first of the three payments he still owed me. So much for his cooperation!

  Furious that Robert was in a position to continue to harass me in this manner, I called Syd Green.

  Syd assured me he’d be in touch with Robert, but I was left to stew about it, growing more and more vexed. I was contemplating a trip to Boston to demand payment from him when Robert’s certified check finally arrived.

  Torn between elation and wanting to wring my ex’s neck, I decided I needed someone to help me with my limited funds—someone different from Rhonda’s financial advisor. Getting a business underway was one thing; keeping it going was another. I called the bank where I was doing business and asked for a recommendation.

  The next day, I entered the office of the CPA the bank had suggested. A tall, thin man rose to greet me. He smiled and held out his hand. “William Grayson. ‘Pleased to meet you, Ms. Rutherford.” Thick gray hair swept back from craggy features. His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes and heightened their blue color. His handshake was firm and dry.

  “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” I said, taking a seat in one of the leather wingback chairs he offered.

  He sat in a chair opposite me. “I’m always interested in seeing how I can help a new client. Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself and how you came to be in Sabal.”

  I launched into the story of my divorce, my meeting Rhonda, and our decision to open a small hotel. “It’s more like an upscale bed and breakfast operation—very elegant, something hard to find.”

  He smiled. “You know, I’ve always thought it would be splendid to do something like that. But things never worked out that way. I opened this business, and soon after, my wife contracted and endured a long illness. She died two years ago. So here I am, doing the same thing after all these years.”

  I detected a note of sadness in his voice. “You don’t think we’re crazy?”

  He chuckled. “No, but I want to hear exactly how you’re going to make it work. There’s been some talk in town about the project already.”

  “Rick Jamieson, a neighbor of mine in Boston, is a hospitality consultant and knows everything about the business. He agreed to do a quick-and-dirty feasibility study for us to determine if we were on track.” I smiled, unable to hold back my excitement. “He feels we have a good opportunity to make a go of it by offering something unique. He thinks if we provide excellent service and control our costs, we’d have a special niche in this upscale market.”

  William nodded enthusiastically.

  I warmed to his interest. “There’s nothing else quite like it in Southwest Florida. Fortunately, Rhonda’s house is well-suited to become a luxurious, small hotel. We don’t have to do substantial work on the house.”

  “Rhonda owns the house?”

  “Yes. I’m buying the small cottage on the property and renovating it to be my home. That’s another reason I need your help.”

  William nodded thoughtfully. “We’ll need to develop a strategy to make the most of your funds while keeping them secure.”

  At his willingness to help, hope swirled through me.

  “You know, I’ve always admired that house,” he said. “Before she got so sick, my wife and I used to drive by it now and then. That was before Rhonda DelMonte bought it and fixed it up.” He spoke in a wistful voice, and I had the impression he was a lonely man.

  “Would you like to see it? It would give you the opportunity to see the ’before’ stage of the project.” His face lit up. “I would, indeed. Yes, that would be most interesting.”

  When I got home, I told Rhonda about him. “There was something so sad about him. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve asked him to come by sometime to check the place out. He’s fascinated by our plan. Apparently, he’s always wanted to do something like this.”

  “He’s welcome to come anytime.” Rhonda clapped me on the back. “While you were gone, I spoke to Drew. He inspected the new dining room and the offices. They’re almost done. And, Annie, he says when the girls arrive for their school break, Liz should have a very good idea of what her new home will look like.”

  I grinned. I couldn’t wait for her to see it, and I’d missed her like crazy.

  Over the next few days, Rhonda and I met with advertising people, hired a computer consultant, and interviewed several purveyors of food and wine.

  We finally got permission from the city to extend the parking area and to put up signage for it, but the permit for the chickee hut was still outstanding. Partially satisfied, we made arrangements through Drew to get the work done on the parking lot.

  I was looking forward to a quiet evening when the doorbell rang.

  Checking my watch, I went to answer it.

  In a white, button-down collared shirt and neatly pressed tan slacks, William Grayson stood in front of me.

  “Hello, Ann. Am I interrupting anything?” He smiled shyly.

  “Not at all,” I said, pleased to see him. “Come in.”

  “Who’s there?” Rhonda rushed into the foyer, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. She stopped and stared at our guest.

  “Rhonda, this is William Grayson.”

  Rhonda continued to gaze at him as if he were a hot fudge sundae. He was handsome in his own way. “Come in, come in,” she gushed. “Annie has told me all about you. Aha! I know. I’ll call you Will.”

  “Yes, but ...” he mumbled softly and gave me a helpless look.

  I placed a hand on his arm. “Rhonda always finds a nickname for everyone. You’ll get used to it.”

  He grinned and turned to Rhonda. “Why not Bill?”

  Rhonda laughed. “That’s easy. You stood there for the longest time, and I wondered ‘Will he come in or not?’ Get it?”

  Looking pleased, he chuckled. “Okay, Will it is.”

  The two of them smiled at each other. Watching them, a warm feeling washed over me.

  “Come in,” said Rhonda. “Annie and I will give you a tour of the property.”

  We took him through the entire house—guest rooms, kitchen, the small formal dining room, and the larger, newly constructed one.


  As we explained how it was all going to work, Will asked intelligent questions and listened carefully to everything we had to say. By the time we completed the tour, the sun was starting to go down.

  Will smiled. “I’m impressed. It’s a beautiful property, and, as you told me, Ann, it’s well suited for what you’re doing with it. I’m sure anyone would find pleasure in spending time here.”

  Happiness swept through me. His opinion was important to me.

  “Would you like to stay for a drink?” Rhonda fluttered her eyelashes as she smiled at him. “We can sit on the lanai.” She paused. “Unless you have someplace else to go?”

  He shook his head. “Fridays I usually stay late at the office just so I don’t have to go home to an empty house.”

  Rhonda clucked her tongue. “What an awful way to live. Go out by the pool with Annie, and I’ll get some hors d’oeuvres and wine.”

  Will followed me outside and stood to look at the beach and the Gulf beyond it. “Gorgeous view. The house and its grounds are even more beautiful than I’d imagined.”

  “The first time I saw it, I couldn’t believe just one person could live here. It’s so elegant and regal. Amazing that Rhonda owns it all by herself.”

  “Yes. She’s a very interesting woman,” he commented, smiling as he turned to watch Rhonda head our way.

  “A wonderful person,” I added enthusiastically. They were so cute together.

  Rhonda carried a large tray with the wine, glasses, and a plate of appetizers. She set the tray down on the glass table and lifted the opened bottle of white wine.

  “Please, allow me,” said Will, coming to her side. Rhonda and I stood by while he poured three glasses of wine and handed them out. “Thanks for having me here.”

  “Nonsense,” said Rhonda. “We’re glad you came. It looks like you could use some good home cooking. Here, try one of these.”