Page 2 of Nightcaps at The Beach House Hotel

“We’ll say hi and keep walking,” I said, hoping we could. Brock Goodwin was president of the neighborhood association and had been a thorn in our sides since the beginning when he’d tried to stop the hotel from opening. Though we’d succeeded in getting past those objections, he was always looking for a way to interfere. We detested him.

Tall, gray-haired, and in shape, Brock was sought-after by single women living in the area for his looks and suave manner which hid his true personality.

“Well, if it isn’t the two biggest troublemakers in the neighborhood,” said Brock.

“Hello, Brock,” I said moving past him. “We can’t stay to chat. We’re talking business.”

He ran to catch up to us. “Is there anything I should know about?”

“As you know, we keep business and our guests private,” said Rhonda.

He studied her. “I can already tell you’ve got something going on, something you no doubt want to keep secret,” he said in his presumptuous way. “You know I won’t rest until I find out what it is. After all, as president of the neighborhood association, it’s my duty to be well-informed.”

“I hear someone is going to run against you for that position. Someone new in town,” said Rhonda. “See ya later.”

We kept on walking.

A few minutes later, I looked back. Brock was still standing there staring out at the water. I nudged Rhonda. “Good job. He’s still wondering who might take his precious position away from him. You were kidding about it, right?”

“Yeah. Who wants to be president of a fuckin’ neighborhood association? No one. That’s who.”

I started to chuckle, and soon we were both laughing hard. We’d do anything to get Brock off our backs. After tricking him into bidding on something he couldn’t afford for a charity event, we’d made a special deal with him to stay away from the second guesthouse we were building on our property. It wasn’t a bad idea. The house was constructed in record time with no problems from anyone. It was this house that Darryl wanted to stay in.

When we headed back to the hotel, Brock wasn’t in sight. I decided to call our friend, Dorothy Stern, to tell her about Rhonda’s remark to Brock. Dorothy was a retired businesswoman who’d help us out when we first opened the hotel by doing volunteer work sending out notices and invitations to our special events. At just over five feet tall, she was the one person who seemed able to stand up to Brock. She’d been known to put him in his place more than once. We adored her.

We headed into the kitchen for a morning cup of coffee and one of Consuela’s cinnamon rolls. These treats had been helpful when trying to tempt early guests with reasons to stay at The Beach House Hotel. They had become a specialty of the hotel after a food critic from New York stayed at the hotel and mentioned it to all his fans.

Consuela greeted us with a smile. “Buenos Dias!You’re just in time. A few minutes ago, I took a second batch of sweet rolls out of the oven.”

“Good morning. Did you have a nice couple of days off?” I hugged her. Consuela and her husband, Manny, had been working for Rhonda before we opened the hotel. They stayed on and became the heart of the hotel family. The two of them were the parents I always wished I’d had.

“We did have a nice break, though you know Manny,” said Consuela. “He doesn’t like to leave the landscaping of the property in anyone else’s hands for too long.”

“Annie, I told you when we first met, he’s my ‘Manny around the house’,” said Rhonda, giving me a wide grin.

Consuela and I glanced at one another and laughed.

At the time, Rhonda had also mentioned she had a beach house. I had no idea it was a seaside estate that had once been a small hotel.

“It’s nice to have you and Manny back with us,” I said, placing a warm sweet roll onto a plate.

“We couldn’t run the place without you,” said Rhonda giving Consuela a bosomy hug. “I’m going to take one more cinnamon roll to the office. Annie and I have to talk about an upcoming guest.”

We took coffee and our treats to the office we shared.

I no sooner sat down at my desk than my cell phone rang.Amelia Swanson.

“Hello, Madame Vice President. I’m going to put you on speaker phone in our office so Rhonda can hear too. Okay?”

“Yes. I just wanted to check to see if you’re going to be able to handle Darryl Douglas’s request. His agent is a friend of mine and the president’s too.”

“We have the request, but I’m not sure we can accommodate him. We’ll know more tomorrow. It would mean moving someone out of the guesthouse and into a room.”

“And after the last time we did you a favor …” Rhonda began.

“We’ll be sure to let you know,” I interrupted. I knew Rhonda was going to mention the kidnapping that took place, and I didn’t want to get her riled up and then say something we’d both regret. We’d survived a couple of tricky situations satisfying Amelia’s requests, and the thought of being forced to face the possibility of another traumatic one was worrisome.

“I’ve got to go,” said Amelia. “I hope you understand the political importance of this for me. I may be needing people in the media in the future.”

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