Page 11

“That’s exactly what he would want,” said Brad.

Their conversation ended with a sense of contentment.

###

Later, sitting in her First-Class seat on the plane, Emmie felt a shiver of nerves go through her. There would be no turning back.

During the flight, Emmie read a book by one of her favorite authors, grateful the man sitting next to her by the window had fallen asleep and wasn’t about to interrupt her.

A little more than three hours later, the pilot announced they were approaching Tampa International Airport. The plane’s interior came alive as people gathered their belongings to depart.

Emmie organized her things and buckled in for a landing, as anxious to get off the plane as the others.

A limousine was driving her south to The Beach House Hotel in Sabal. That, too, had been suggested in Earl’s notes to her.

She disembarked with others in First Class and hurried to the Baggage Claim area, where a driver would be waiting for her.

As she walked into the area, she saw a handsome young man holding a sign with her name on it. She went over to him and held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Emily Withers.”

The young man shook it. “I’m Julio Sanchez. I welcome you to The Beach House Hotel’s limousine service. You’re in for a treat. The weather is great. It’s in the seventies and is forecasted to be a beautiful, sunny Christmas.”

“I’m looking forward to it. It’s cloudy and cold where I live. What we call the ‘Montreal Express’ is bringing our temperatures to the twenties and thirties.”

Julio smiled, showing off straight, white teeth. “Well, then, it’s a good thing you’re here. Let me help you into the car, and if you hand me your luggage tickets, I’ll get your bags and bring them there.”

Several minutes later, they were on their way.

“We have cold water, sodas, and a small bottle of Champagne in the refrigerator for your use. Let me know what kind of music you like, and I’ll find a station for you.”

“Cold water sounds delightful, and whatever music station you have on is fine with me,” said Emmie, helping herself to a bottle of water.

“Have you been to the hotel before?” Julio asked her.

“No, but I’ve read all about it. It looks beautiful.”

“Yes, it’s exceptional. While you’re there, I suggest you taste their special cinnamon rolls. My grandmother, Consuela, makes them and they have become a famous part of the hotel.”

Emmie grinned. “It sounds like an excellent way to start the day. Something sweet in the morning is a weakness of mine.”

“Or a strength,” said Julio, and they laughed together.

He fell quiet, and Emmie sat, watching the palm trees and other vegetation as they whizzed by. She removed her light jacket and summer sweater, grateful Lauren had reminded her to wear layers.

She rested her head against the seat and thought of the things she wanted to see and do. She hadn’t realized she’d dozed until Julio said gently, “Ms. Withers, we’re getting close to the hotel.

Emmie sat up with a start. She didn’t want to miss a minute of her arrival. She’d heard that the owners tried to greet guests as they arrived, and she hoped that she’d be one of them.

The limo hesitated for just a minute at the entrance gate to give her a look at the property. The low, two-story building looked like a lazy flamingo stretched across a green carpet of lawn. Flowers, flowering shrubs, and palm trees enhanced the building.

As they drew closer, Emmie noticed the two carved wooden doors and the huge flower pots on either side of them.

The limousine came to a stop in the front circle as two women Emmie recognized as the owners descended the stairs.

Julio got out and raced around the car to open the passenger door for her, just as the women approached her.

“Welcome to The Beach House Hotel, Emily,” said the shorter woman with dark hair. “I’m Ann Sanders, and this is my business partner, Rhonda Grayson.”

“We’re delighted you’re here,” the larger blonde woman said. “Yours is such a touching story.”