Page 1 of Sea Breezes at The Beach House Hotel

CHAPTER ONE

One bright, sunny morning in late November, I sat with my best friend and business partner, Rhonda Grayson, in our office at The Beach House Hotel on Florida's Gulf Coast. We were going over preparations for the holidays. Thanksgiving was a big event for guests and locals alike. Early on the morning of the day after Thanksgiving, the hotel would be transformed with Christmas holiday decorations everywhere on the property. “High Season” lasted from that time until Easter, and we, along with our staff, were caught up in a whirlwind as we ran the hotel.

My cell phone rang, and I eagerly answered it. Vaughn’s daughter, Nell.

“Hi, Darling. How are you? I can’t wait until you and Clint and the kids get here for Thanksgiving.”

I listened to her, growing increasingly concerned as she explained she would be driving alone with her two children. Due to an important business deal, Clint would fly in on Thanksgiving and leave the next day

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “Your father will be disappointed that he and Clint won’t have time for sailing.”

Nell spoke to me in a flurry of angry words and then stopped, letting out a tortured sigh. “I really need to talk to you, Ann. Will you promise me some moments alone?”

“Of course. I hate to hear you sounding so unhappy.”

“It’ll be great to be in Sabal with you and Dad,” Nell said. “I’d better go. I’ll let you know when I get close to town.”

We ended the call, and I sat staring into space, feeling uneasy.

“Is Nell okay?” Rhonda asked me. She loved Nell.

“She and the kids are traveling to Florida this weekend for Thanksgiving week. I’m thrilled they’re coming, but I’m worried about her. She seemed depressed, even angry.”

Rhonda gave me a sympathetic look. “Aw, Annie, all she needs is to get away from D.C. and enjoy some of our sea breezes. That will help straighten out her life.”

“I hope you’re right because it’s unlike Nell to be so down. I’m sure it has something to do with Clint, but I didn’t want to have that kind of discussion with her over the phone. She wants some privacy with me when she gets here.”

“She’s always wanted her family to move to Sabal. It would be much easier for everyone to be together. She and Liz are close, too, which would make it nice for both of them,” said Rhonda.

“Right now, I need to concentrate on being supportive.” I shook my head. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Rhonda said. “I’m sorry. How about taking a stroll with me on the beach? I could use a break.”

Walking on the beach was a way for Rhonda and me to talk in private, as long as we didn’t run into our neighbor, Brock Goodwin, the president of the Neighborhood Association.

We left the office, and I breathed in the salty tang of the air. It was a cool, late November morning. At this time of year, weather changes were to be expected, but I knew the day would soon warm to a very pleasant temperature.

We took off our shoes and stepped onto the sand.

Standing near the lacy edge of the water, I lifted my face to the sun, loving the gentle sea breeze that caressed my cheeks. The sound of the waves meeting the shore and pulling away helped me to relax. That soothing movement was as old as time, but it always worked for me. Seagulls and terns above us swirled in the wind, their cries telling a story of their own.

“Whenever I stand back and look at our hotel, I can’t believe we own it,” said Rhonda, throwing her arm across my shoulder. Lying next to the shore, The Beach House Hotel resembled a lazy Roseate Spoonbill with its pink surface and sweet curves.

I smiled at her. “We’ve both worked hard at making it succeed.”

“A lot of people didn’t believe we could do it,” said Rhonda. “But we’ll keep going until our daughters take over for us.”

“With Angela and Liz raising our grandchildren, it won’t happen very soon. But the thought is tantalizing.”

“Who would’ve thunk we’d be this successful?” said Rhonda, grinning at me.

“It certainly hasn’t been a breeze, but all the work has been worth it. Especially because it’s been you and me as a team from the beginning.”

“You know, Annie, I knew we’d be a match because we’re very different,” said Rhonda.

“I’ll say.” After my parents were killed in an automobile accident, I was raised in Boston by a strict grandmother, who would be appalled by the changes in my life. Rhonda grew up in a loving family in a tough neighborhood in New Jersey. Though I’d gotten used to Rhonda’s colorful language, it still sometimes surprised me.

“Do you remember how you told me not to be so beige when we first met?” I asked her.