Page 94 of Bubbles at the Beach House Hotel

While she talked with the dining staff, I called Tropical Fleurs to make sure there was no problem with the flowers for the house and for the private dining room. Then I called the Front Desk to see if the bride and groom from Saturday’s wedding had vacated the Bridal Suite.

“They haven’t checked out. The bride called and asked if they could extend their stay, and I told them I was sorry, but they couldn’t,” said the front desk clerk. “Even though I apologized, she became upset and told me they were staying in the room whether I liked it or not. She said her mother would pay for it.”

I frowned. “Rhonda and I will visit them. I’ll let you know what happens.”

I ended the call and went to speak to Rhonda.

A look of determination crossed Rhonda’s face. “We’ve got to get them out of there. If they think they can get away with a few more hours in the room, then they’ll try for more. I don’t want to take a chance on that happening. Lorraine left a note on her desk that this wedding party was a disaster with them making one unreasonable demand after another.”

“I hate to disturb our guests, but I think this is important. Caro and the book club women have planned a little party in the suite before the wedding with both Caro’s and Henry’s mothers.”

“Yes, they wanted everyone to be comfortable with one another before the ceremony,” said Rhonda. “Let’s go.”

We walked down to the end of the corridor and knocked on the door.

“Go away,” came a female voice.

“We need to speak to you,” I said. “Please open the door.”

“What the fuck?” a male voice said.

Rhonda knocked on the door again. “We need you to honor the agreement to leave this room. We have another party assigned to it.”

We heard conversation, some swearing, and finally, the door opened. A man stood there with a towel wrapped around him. “Sorry. My wife told me we could stay as long as we wanted.”

“I’m sorry, but that isn’t true,” I said, catching a glimpse of a pouting face in the background.

“Okay, give us some time to pack up,” said the man, looking angry.

“Twenty minutes max,” Rhonda said.

The man glared at her, but Rhonda and I stood there calmly.

The door slammed in our faces.

Letting out sighs of exasperation, we left to go to the front desk. There were days at the hotel when nothing seemed easy.

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Twenty-five minuteslater, the front desk called to say the couple in the Bridal Suite had left.

I called Housekeeping to alert them, and Rhonda and I walked down to the suite to explain how we wanted the rooms set up.

After that meeting, we went to the second house, now being cleaned and decorated for the ceremony. We’d been told that Caro had already moved her things into the house and would change into her wedding dress there.

We arrived to find the three men there with Jane, Heather, and Lisa.

“Hi, we were showing the guys around,” said Heather. “I want you to meet my husband, Craig.” She indicated a well-padded man of average height with an easy-going, friendly smile. He seemed perfect for his laid-back artist wife.

Rhonda and I shook hands with him and then moved to Jane’s beau, Carl. Wearing glasses, Carl exchanged handshakes with us and then turned to Jane, who was beaming. Geoffrey, Lisa’s high school sweetheart and husband, had similar dark, curly hair, and I couldn’t help thinking about how much they looked alike, like some couples who’ve lived together for some time.

“Welcome to The Beach House Hotel. We hope you have a pleasant stay,” I said to the newly arrived men.

“You’ve picked a beautiful day to be here. It was windy this morning, but it’s calmed down,” said Rhonda. “Have fun.”

“We will,” said Jane. “We’re going to walk on the beach.”

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