Page 2 of Canapés at the Beach House Hotel
Rhonda and I left them and headed to the beach where we did some of our best thinking.
At the beach’s edge, I flipped off my sandals and buried my toes in the warm sand.Sighing with pleasure, I inhaled the salty air and stared up at the blue sky where marshmallow puffs of clouds glided lazily across it.I tiptoed across the sand and sank my feet into the frothy edge of the cooler water, holding my sandals high above it.
The waves rolled in to shore one after the other in a rhythm as old as time.It comforted me to hear the kiss of them meeting the sand and pulling away for another chance to do it all over again.
Rhonda lifted the bottom of her caftan into her arms and joined me at the water’s edge.
“Feels good, huh?”she said, smiling at me.
“Heavenly.”I looked up as someone called my name.“Uh-oh.Guess who’s headed our way.”
“It’d better not be … damn!”sputtered Rhonda.
“Hello, ladies,” said Brock Goodwin, the president of the Neighborhood Association.Seeing him here this time of day could only mean trouble.
“What do you want?”said Rhonda.Neither of us could stand the man who was always trying to hurt the business we ran so proudly.
“I thought you should know about my latest venture,” Brock said smoothly.He was a good-looking older man with silver hair, a trim physique, and enough manufactured charm to be sought after by single women in the area looking for a date to accompany them to a social event.
“What are you up to now?”growled Rhonda.
“I’m a part-owner of a fantastic new Italian restaurant just up the beach.It’s for people looking for a change from a hotel restaurant, something in a creative space just for them,” Brock sniffed.“We’re offering fabulous food, location, and space for those wanting a superior dining experience.”
“What is it called?”I asked, unable to resist wanting more details.
“Osteria Arno,” said Brock.
“Who’s your chef?”I asked.
“Jonny Arno,” said Brock.“He’s the best, you know.”
“Depends,” Rhonda said, and I silently pleaded with her not to say more.
She glanced at me and whatever she was about to say faded in her mouth.
Brock gave us a smug look.“I think this investment of mine is going to pay off in a big way.Even Jean-Luc will want to come to Osteria Arno.Jonny can show him a thing or two.You girls need to have some decent competition.Then we’ll see what kind of businesswomen you really are.”
“Thank you for your concern,” I said through clenched teeth.“But we don’t need to prove anything to anyone.The success of our hotel speaks for us.”
“Why don’t you run along, Brock.We have important things to discuss.Business that has nothing to do with you,” said Rhonda,
“You’ll see.The day will come when you’re asking favors of me.Jonny says I can be a big help to him.”Brock gave us a wave and trotted away.
Rhonda and I stared at him, sighing in unison.
“How can anyone like that survive?”asked Rhonda.“He’s pissed off enough people to be in danger of someone finally giving in to the temptation of wringing his fucking neck.”
“As long as that someone isn’t you,” I said.“We have a hotel to run.Together.”
“Seriously, Annie, what are we going to do about competition like Osteria Arno?If Brock’s involved, it’ll mean nothing but trouble for us.”
I swung my arm across Rhonda’s shoulder.“That, dear partner, is what we are about to find out.”
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After Chet and Harper arrived for their meeting the next afternoon, I was as curious as Rhonda as we indicated for them to sit at the small conference table with us.
“Now, do you want to talk about your situation?We’d like to hear it,” I said.
