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I hustled up the steps to the Grand Hotel, arms stacked with gift baskets for the judges. I have no idea how they pulled it off, but in the past three weeks, Madison had been true to her word. She totally hyped the bakeoff, and when she asked me to put together some welcome gifts, I wasn't even mad. I mean, sure, the island wasn't teeming with people yet, but there was a definite uptick and buzz of excitement as the contestants began to arrive.
Nate was over at the town hall getting set up for the opening reception. Madison had insisted that Trevor cater it. I'm not entirely sure how you cater hamburger and fries from a place that gets its flavor from not having cleaned out the grease trap since 1984, but that was his problem, not mine.
I stepped into the lobby and a young girl with curly, dark blonde hair was standing behind the counter. I had never met her before. She gave me a vapid smile.
"Welcome to the Grand Hotel," she said, cocking her head to the side with cheerleader-like perkiness.
"Oh.... Is Sally working today?" I asked.
"Oh. She doesn't work here anymore," stated the girl without a hint of emotion beyond her general enthusiasm. "I just started."
"Ah," I replied, shifting the heavy packages in my arms. "Well, welcome to Seaside. And speaking of welcome... I have some welcome baskets for the judges who will be arriving today. I was working with Sally on this. If you can get me their room numbers, I'll put them in there."
She tip-tapped on her computer for a moment. "I'm sorry. We have no reservations under the name 'Judge'."
"No," I clarified. "The judges."
She typed again and then gave a shake of her head. "No families under the name 'Judges', either. Are you sure you're at the right hotel?"
"No, the judges for the bakeoff. They're arriving on the morning ferry. They haven't checked in yet. I have welcome baskets for them."
She gave me a blink and a blank stare.
"I'm sorry, what's your name?" I asked, setting the baskets down on the counter, my arms about to give out.
"Oh, I'm Henrietta. And it is my pleasure to serve you today here at the Grand Hotel."
"Okay, Henrietta, you do know there is a bakeoff happening here and folks are arriving today, right?"
She gave me another disappointed shake of her head. "I'm so sorry. I'm afraid no one informed me of any events happening here today."
I sincerely hoped that this was just a case of bad communication and not that someone had royally messed up. I tried to keep my brain from melting down. "So, we've been working with Sally for the better part of the month to put this together. It is a bakeoff that is happening here, and all the judges and guests and the event itself will be here at the Grand Hotel."
She typed something else into the computer and gave me an apologetic wince. "I'm sorry. All of our rooms are booked for another event."
I took a great big breath when Johnny came skipping up the steps. "Hey, Paige! Nate said you might need a hand! And lucky for you, I have two." He held out both arms like some sort of a magician waiting for me to inspect his sleeves for hidden cards.
"Just trying to get these baskets up to the rooms of the judges," I informed him.
"Righteous!" he said, poking his nose at the cellophane. "They're probably going to award you a blue ribbon just for making their stay so awesome."
I turned back to Henrietta. "Can you just tell me where to take these?"
"I'm sorry, we don't give out private guest room information."
It was like trying to communicate with a brick wall. Just as my brain was about to go into nuclear meltdown, Johnny suddenly stepped forward.
"Yo! You're new!" he said. He scratched his head and flicked back his sundrenched blond curls like this was his favorite place to hang out and he was just making himself at home. I wasn't quite sure if he knew the effect he had on the ladies or if he was just being Johnny.
Henrietta blushed a deep crimson and cast her eyes down at her desk. "My first week," she admitted, suddenly shy.
Johnny folded up his elbows and leaned forward on the counter. "DUDE! We should totally go out and celebrate. Listen, we got this thingie happening here. Hook us up with their room digits. Otherwise, we gotta leave it with your people and your people are gonna have to talk to our people and stop what they're doing to haul all this stuff all over the place. We're cutting through the middle man, that's what we do!" he said, sliding his fingertips swiftly along his palm like pushing off dust.
"That's a really smart idea!"
"Yeah. They're, like, here for the event thingie."
"OH! THEY'RE with the event! It's a BAKEOFF. All those ovens make sense now! I thought it was some sort of wacky wedding reception," she said. She then tapped some more on the computer. "I'll get your keys."
I looked at Johnny as she disappeared into the back. "How did you do that?"
"Just explained the sitch."
Whatever situation he just explained was beyond me, but I was impressed. "Johnny, you are my hero."
He doffed an imaginary hat and swept into a bow. "At your service, milady."
"Well, grab a basket and let's get to servicing these rooms."
He jogged over to the bellboy's cart and surfed it back to me. Then, he loaded it up with the baskets as Henrietta returned.
"Okay, here are the numbers," she said as she wrote on the paper sleeves. "Just make sure to return the cards to me, because I'm not sure if I'm supposed to actually give you the room keys, but it really does help not having to leave the desk to do it. We're short staffed and I want to make sure I'm here to provide service with a smile." She then gave Johnny an extra special grin.
She practically swooned as Johnny gave her a friendly wave. "Trevor's Saloon tonight! We're celebrating!"
The Grand Hotel is not a huge place. After all, we're a pretty small island. But it is a lovely historical site: all original crown molding, parquet floors, and lovely oil paintings hanging in the hallway done by some artist who once made the island his home. I made a mental note to find out more about who that person was.
We rode up the elevator and drove the cart to the rooms. We hit the first two with no drama, but as we were placing the third basket in the room, I heard the door click and open.
A tall woman with high cheekbones and coiffed hair gave a shriek as she saw us.
"No! No! It's okay!" I tried to explain.
"The front desk told me this was my room. I apologize. That twit even gave me a key," she replied, clutching her high collar with a boney hand.
"No, this is your room!" I informed her. Johnny gave her a little finger wave.
Her narrow eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry. And what are you doing in my room?"
"Oh! My name is Paige. I work at Bitter Beans coffee shop. I'm on the welcoming committee and just dropping off a welcome basket. Um... welcome to Seaside!" I offered lamely as I motioned to the gift. She seemed like she was about to tell me where I could drop off my basket, so I pointed at my friend. "And this is Johnny. He is one of the founders of Seaside."
Her jaw fell open, showing off her crowded teeth. "Him? You're telling me he's one of the founding family members of this island?"
He gave her little finger guns. "Guilty as charged."
She regarded him with disbelief, but finally decided it wasn't worth it to argue. "Eccentricity runs in the best of families, I suppose," she said. "I'm exhausted. If you'll excuse me." She turned to pick up her bag and bring it into the room.
"Wait! Let me get that for you, fair guest to our noble island," Johnny said.
He leaped over like a gazelle and picked up the bag in his arms like a baby. I didn't have the heart to tell him that there were wheels and he could have just rolled it in.
She looked vaguely horrified as she shrank into the room.
"We'll just be going," I said. "Ms...?"
"Ms. Shelia Price." She peered into the basket. "I suppose these items are all locally sourced, farm-to-table, and organic?"
"Made most of it with my own two hands," I replied.
She gave me a good look up and down. I made a note to check the trash tomorrow to see if she chucked the whole thing without opening it.
"We really should be going," I said, awkwardly. "But swing by Bitter Beans bookshop anytime you need a great cup of coffee."
She sniffed at the in-room coffee maker, picking up the foil packet with the cheap, single-use, coffee-and-filter combo inside. "Yes. Perhaps I'll do that. Bitter Beans, you said?"
"A few blocks east of the ferry dock on Main Street. It looks a little like an old general store. There's also an actual general store a few shops away run by our friend Holly. We're the ones with the bakery and books, though."
"How quaint." She then just stood there and stared at me.
I wasn't sure if we were dismissed or what was going on, but figured to take it upon myself to just get out. "Anyhoogle. Lots of baskets yet to distribute. See you around!"
"See ya!" Johnny barked as he walked out. As the door clicked behind us, he said, "She seemed nice."
I should take a lesson from Johnny. Everyone is his friend.
We headed to a room a few doors down. Since it seemed that the ferry had arrived, I knocked instead of just barging in. I heard shuffling and then the handle turned.
"Oh! My goodness! I thought I heard someone out here!"
The man who opened the door was short and around Granny's age. He had a white mustache and neatly combed white hair. He wore round, brass spectacles and was dressed in a suit jacket and bowtie.
"Hi! Just dropping off a little welcome basket for all the judges on behalf of the founding families," I said, holding out our gift.
"Hi! I'm one of the founding families," said Johnny, sticking out his hand.
A smile broke across the judge's face as he reached out in return. "A pleasure to meet you, young man. My name is Richard. I'm one of the judges."
"Hope you'll find us 'guilty' of good service," said Johnny. He turned to me, "I thought that all up by myself. On account of him being a judge."
"Very clever," said Richard, appreciatively, like he was delighted by the workings of Johnny's brain. That was a mark in the positive column for me.
"Any trouble on the ferry?" I asked, warming to him as I handed him the basket.
"Smooth as glass. Such a lovely island! I haven't been here in years," he admitted. He admired the things we had prepared for him. "Ooo! Raspberry jam and scones! My favorite!"
"You've been here before?" I asked.
He dragged himself away from our present to answer. "It's been ages. Barely even recognized the place."
"OH! We're working to make the island look like it used to!" chirped Johnny. "You should come hang out and tell us what it was like!"
"Why that would be a great pleasure," said Richard. "Invitation accepted."
"Well, on behalf of Nate and Johnny, the entire island is so happy to have you here for the bakeoff. I work over at Bitter Beans. Please feel free to stop by for a great cup of coffee anytime." I then motioned to my friend. "And maybe the three of you can discuss how things have changed."
"Are you entered in the contest?" he asked, looking once again at the basket. "Because if these taste as good as they look, I have a feeling you'd be giving anyone a run for their money."
I liked this guy.
I laughed and said, "No. I'm just here for moral support."
"You introduced your young friend Johnny, but what's your name?"
"Paige. Paige Comber," I told him, sticking out my hand.
"A pleasure to meet you, Paige. I will look forward to settling in with this wonderful gift and taking you up on that cup of coffee." He gave Johnny a wink. "And talking about the good ol' days here on the island."
"Anytime!" I said.
The door softly closed as we walked away. We headed toward the lobby and Johnny seemed impressed. "I like that guy."
"Me, too," I said, glancing over my shoulder. "He seemed very kind."
"OH! Are you talking about Richard?" asked a silvery male voice.
I turned. He was dressed in a white suit and Panama hat. I think when someone told him he was doing a bakeoff on an island, he was expecting something a little more tropical.
"Are you the delightful woman who left that charming basket in my room?" he asked with a reptilian smile.
"Paige, it's like you're a celebrity," said Johnny in awe. "You're like... The Basket Girl of Seaside..."
I turned back to the man. "I am," I replied. "On behalf of the founding—"
The man cut me off. He took my hand in both of his sweaty palms and smiled, his row of flat, white teeth flashing beneath his pencil thin mustache. "It is so lovely to be so welcomed. Judging these bakeoffs is my life, and I can't tell you the anger and rivalry that can be stirred up the moment I set foot in a city."
"Oh, well, we're not really like that here..." I said, slowly withdrawing my hand. I didn't want to offend the man, but also was feeling like I wanted a couple of steps between him and me.
"Did I hear that there is a coffee shop here in town?" he asked, leaning into my personal space.
"Yes, Bitter Beans." I should have invited him down for a free cup like I had everyone else, but I was thinking I was good with making this guy pay.
"Well, my name is Victor and I am sure I will see you there frequently." He picked a bit of lint from his jacket. "Tell me, are you entered in the competition? I love getting further acquainted with our hopefuls."
"Just moral support," I said, trying to politely extricate myself. "Come on, Johnny."
"Oh, is this Johnny? Your boyfriend?" he asked, his eyes flashing with just a glint of danger.
"Best friend," said Johnny, reaching out with both his hands. I guess he saw that was how Victor did the handshake thing and he was happy to play by Victor's rules. "Paige is dating my cousin, Nate, who is also a founder."
"Like a telanovella. Such intrigue!"
"No, we're all friends," I replied.
"That's how it all starts," he said with a knowing wink.
"Sorry, I really gotta get back to Bitter Beans," I said. "My shift is just about to start."
"Well, it has been a pleasure. See you soon!" said Victor, giving me a wave.
I, for one, would have been happy if I never saw his face again. I told myself at least by Monday, that creep would be gone.
Johnny and I walked into the lobby, ready to return the keys, but our way was blocked. A woman with huge red hair was standing right in front of the hallway.
"Excuse me," I said, just as a flash went off.
She turned, giving me an eyeful of her pink, sequined cowgirl suit and a beauty pageant sash that said Miss Seaside. "So sorry, honey! This nice gentleman was just getting a story for your local paper."
A guy I remembered from some of those town hall dances gave me a little wave, and held up his Nikon like I was the biggest jerk for interrupting his photo shoot.
"Sorry! So sorry!" I apologized as we scooched around them and made our way to the front counter.
Henrietta was off somewhere. I rang the little bell on the counter and then cringed as the lady and the reporter looked over to see what I was doing.
"Who is that?" I muttered under my breath.
"Oh, that's Lorraine," said Johnny, reverently.
"Who is Lorraine?"
"Did you read the website?" Johnny asked. He apologized as if he had offended me. "It's hard to read. I barely made it through. I only did because I knew someone would quiz me and I totally lost the last quiz. I'm thinking we need less words and more emojis." He seemed lost in thought as he designed what that would look like in his head, then snapped back to reality. "So, like, Lorraine won a beauty competition or a talent competition or maybe it was both. Anyways, she won something and they gave her a tiara, so she's here to be a spokesperson for the Seaside bakeoff. It was Madison's idea. We couldn't spring for another tiara, but managed to get her a new sash."
As Lorraine gave a fake laugh and smile and flipped the edge of her huge, ratted hair over her shoulder, it struck me that she seemed very much the kind of person Madison would think Seaside needed in order to make this event a success.
Henrietta suddenly came out from the back room and seemed genuinely surprised to see us. She flushed again as her eyes met Johnny's. "Nobody drops off their keys!" she stammered.
"You told us to," I reminded her.
"Still..."
"Well, we respect people's property," Johnny replied. "We're not key thieves."
"Were you serious about going to Trevor's Saloon tonight?" she asked. "Like for serious for serious? I mean, we can play billiards or darts if we run out of things to talk about or something...?"
"Of course!" said Johnny. "That makes me feel really special that you asked if I was really asking."
"Oh! That’s so great! And Trevor is having a special tonight, too, so it won't even be expensive or anything," said Henrietta.
"What?" I asked.
She pulled out a coupon. "Trevor is offering free drinks to all of the judges after the dinner at the town hall. He said I could have a free drink, too, since the Grand Hotel is hosting the bakeoff. He said that he thinks it will make the contestants and their guests want to come. It should be super fun. Especially with you there, Johnny." She batted her lashes at him and if she was a cartoon character, little hearts would have been floating out of her eyes.
It made my offer for a free cup of coffee to all of the judges seem woefully lacking. I hadn't even thought of gathering them at the coffee shop as an official hangout. "Oh. Well, that was very nice of him."
"Sucks he didn't tell us," observed Johnny. "You could have stuck his coupons in the baskets and saved everyone the trouble."
As Lorraine squealed with delight at something the photographer said, a part of me wondered if Trevor wanted us to know he was reaching out personally to all of the judges and inviting them to his place. Or, more specifically, if Madison was strategically trying to gather her clique of VIPs.
And let us know through the grapevine that we were not on her A-list.