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Authors: Donna Vitek
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against the sand.
When she awoke later, the hot midday sun was beaming down on her, making her thankful that she had remembered the sunscreen. She hardly wished to look like a lobster for the next several days. Feeling absolutely starved, she gathered up her belongings and padded barefoot through the sand toward the gray stone pavilion where she knew she could find a cool drink and a shady place in which to enjoy it. Stopping for a moment, she brushed the sand from her feet and from between her toes before slipping into leather sandals. She slipped her short terry-cloth jacket into her beach bag as she wandered over to the counter where towels were to be returned. No one was there. Another bad mark for the hotel. With a disgruntled sigh, she leaned against the counter, hungry, and eager for a shower to wash away the residue of salt from her skin.
Five minutes later, she was joined by Myrtle and her friend, both of whom were flushed from sitting in the sun.
"Why, you're the young lady who fetched the bellmen for us yesterday, aren't you?" the friend asked, pushing a tight curl of white hair back from her temple. "It was so nice of you to take care of that for us."
"I was happy to do it," Allendre told her. "I just hope you didn't get too tired sitting under that tree waiting."
"At least it was cool there," Myrtle commented, then frowned when she noticed no one was behind the counter. "Well, Abby, I wonder if we're supposed to stand here and hold our towels all day long."
"Frankly, I was considering just leaving the towel and going on," Allendre admitted. "I don't want to wait around here much longer. I'm already famished, and I have to wash my hair before I have lunch."
"I just don't understand it," Abby said bewilderedly. "Why do we have to give them a card to get a towel, then get the card back when the towel's returned? Jacob and I came to Shannon House many times, and we never had to go to such trouble just for towels." Shaking her head, she added in a disbelieving whisper, "You don't suppose they're afraid we're going to steal their towels, do you?"
"Of course that's what they're afraid of," Myrtle said with a sniff. "Why, it said right on the card that the towels had to be returned by the end of each day or they'd charge you for it on your bill."
"Many hotels do that, though," Allendre said in all fairness. "I suppose guests do tend to wander away with small items."
"Not Shannon House guests!" Abby declared proudly. "And the management never seemed to worry about such things before. The guests here were trusted. I'm really a little disappointed that things have changed so much here."
"It's still a nice place though, Abby," Myrtle consoled. "And the scenery is just lovely. Now, if only the man would come back to take our towels and return our silly little cards to us…"
"I don't suppose we should be in any rush," Abby said, peering beyond the counter. "The beach bus isn't here to carry us back to the hotel, and I don't really think either of us should try to make it up all those stairs."
"No, of course you shouldn't," Allendre agreed, wishing Ric knew about this lack of service. But he didn't, so she tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Why don't we do this? I'll leave my towel with you, and if the man comes back, you can give it to him and get my card. There's only a room number on it, and my number's four twenty-two. While you ladies are waiting here I'll walk up and ask them to send the beach bus down to pick you up. How's that?"
Abby protested. "But we hate for you to have to walk all that way."
"Frankly, I think I have to," Allendre admitted with an endearing grimace. "I have to get something to eat before my stomach caves in from hunger. Oh, and by the way, my name is Allendre Corey."
"Allendre. What a pretty name," Myrtle said. "Well, I'm Myrtle Wainwright and this is Abigail Chandler, and we appreciate you always coming to our rescue."
"I'm usually rescuing myself in the process, too," Allendre
When she awoke later, the hot midday sun was beaming down on her, making her thankful that she had remembered the sunscreen. She hardly wished to look like a lobster for the next several days. Feeling absolutely starved, she gathered up her belongings and padded barefoot through the sand toward the gray stone pavilion where she knew she could find a cool drink and a shady place in which to enjoy it. Stopping for a moment, she brushed the sand from her feet and from between her toes before slipping into leather sandals. She slipped her short terry-cloth jacket into her beach bag as she wandered over to the counter where towels were to be returned. No one was there. Another bad mark for the hotel. With a disgruntled sigh, she leaned against the counter, hungry, and eager for a shower to wash away the residue of salt from her skin.
Five minutes later, she was joined by Myrtle and her friend, both of whom were flushed from sitting in the sun.
"Why, you're the young lady who fetched the bellmen for us yesterday, aren't you?" the friend asked, pushing a tight curl of white hair back from her temple. "It was so nice of you to take care of that for us."
"I was happy to do it," Allendre told her. "I just hope you didn't get too tired sitting under that tree waiting."
"At least it was cool there," Myrtle commented, then frowned when she noticed no one was behind the counter. "Well, Abby, I wonder if we're supposed to stand here and hold our towels all day long."
"Frankly, I was considering just leaving the towel and going on," Allendre admitted. "I don't want to wait around here much longer. I'm already famished, and I have to wash my hair before I have lunch."
"I just don't understand it," Abby said bewilderedly. "Why do we have to give them a card to get a towel, then get the card back when the towel's returned? Jacob and I came to Shannon House many times, and we never had to go to such trouble just for towels." Shaking her head, she added in a disbelieving whisper, "You don't suppose they're afraid we're going to steal their towels, do you?"
"Of course that's what they're afraid of," Myrtle said with a sniff. "Why, it said right on the card that the towels had to be returned by the end of each day or they'd charge you for it on your bill."
"Many hotels do that, though," Allendre said in all fairness. "I suppose guests do tend to wander away with small items."
"Not Shannon House guests!" Abby declared proudly. "And the management never seemed to worry about such things before. The guests here were trusted. I'm really a little disappointed that things have changed so much here."
"It's still a nice place though, Abby," Myrtle consoled. "And the scenery is just lovely. Now, if only the man would come back to take our towels and return our silly little cards to us…"
"I don't suppose we should be in any rush," Abby said, peering beyond the counter. "The beach bus isn't here to carry us back to the hotel, and I don't really think either of us should try to make it up all those stairs."
"No, of course you shouldn't," Allendre agreed, wishing Ric knew about this lack of service. But he didn't, so she tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Why don't we do this? I'll leave my towel with you, and if the man comes back, you can give it to him and get my card. There's only a room number on it, and my number's four twenty-two. While you ladies are waiting here I'll walk up and ask them to send the beach bus down to pick you up. How's that?"
Abby protested. "But we hate for you to have to walk all that way."
"Frankly, I think I have to," Allendre admitted with an endearing grimace. "I have to get something to eat before my stomach caves in from hunger. Oh, and by the way, my name is Allendre Corey."
"Allendre. What a pretty name," Myrtle said. "Well, I'm Myrtle Wainwright and this is Abigail Chandler, and we appreciate you always coming to our rescue."
"I'm usually rescuing myself in the process, too," Allendre
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