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Summer 1987
Miriam Beckman laid back on the canvas and wood beach recliner, enjoying the midday sun as it spread across the Santa Monica hotel's veranda. The breeze off the ocean was a cool complement to the warm sunlight as both washed across her body, at least that part of it not covered by what she liked to call her almost-there bikini, a garment that amounted to little more than a few pieces of fabric held together by even skimpier bits of string.
When she decided to get a little sun this morning, the five-foot three-inch brunette initially regretted not having packed something a bit more modest, but after wearing the swimsuit for a while, she now couldn't be happier. The only way she could've gotten more of an all body tan would've been to go nude, and while she had done so before, it had always been in far more secluded surroundings. As it was, the top half of her outfit barely covered her 34C bust, while the bottom left even less to the imagination. Also, if she ever attempted to use the suit in the matter it was advertised, Miriam was sure it would never hold together once wet.
A sudden shadow unexpectedly blocked the sun, causing the twenty-six year old brunette to open her eyes, removing her sunglasses as she sat up. There, standing at the foot of the chair, was a blue shirted cabana boy and, as her gaze shifted to the colorful drink on the tray in his hand, the expression on her face turned to one of disappointment.
"Jamie, I thought we'd already settled this," Miriam said, exasperation in her tone.
One of the drawbacks of being on vacation alone, especially if you looked like Miriam, was that you drew a lot of unwanted attention. In just the hour she had been out on the terrace, two men had already sent over drinks as an overture to an introduction, only to have each sent back with a firm, but polite, no thank you. Finally, she'd had a small talk with the young man before her and, after adding a generous trip to her request, thought she'd put an end to the interruptions. The next time anyone tried to send over a drink, he would, politely, inform the gentleman that the lady wasn't looking for company.
"Si, Miss Beckman, I told the men at the bar that you didn't wish to be disturbed," the eighteen-year-old said, "but this is not..."
He didn't get a chance to finish as she cut him off with a wave of her hand.
"Alright, point out which idiot still insisted on sending it over and I'll break the bad news to him myself," Miriam said, rising to her feet as she looked in the direction of the Tiki Bar.
What she found was, although the lineup at the small bar was different than before, the quality of it hadn't changed. If anything, it had even gone down a few notches. Reflecting on that fact, part of her considered that the cabana boy would've been a more appealing prospect, that is if she liked them that young, which she didn't.
"I'm afraid I'm the idiot," a decidedly non-masculine voice said from off to Jamie's right, interrupting her consideration.
Turning back around, Miriam looked past the teenager and saw a tall, short haired blonde whom she took to be in her late thirties. Wearing black slacks, a white top with a red ascot and a sky-blue blazer that carried the crest of the resort on its breast pocket, the decidedly attractive woman dispelled Miriam's annoyance with a broad smile. One enticing enough to even draw a man's attention away from a bust that was fully the equal of Miriam's own.
"We haven't met," the woman began to say as, with two long strides, she moved past Jamie and extended her hand, "well, at least not face to face, but I'm Nicole Devereaux."
"Nicole ..." Miriam started to repeat, only to pause as both the name and the slight but delightful French accent rang a bell in her head. "Oh, of course, we've spoken over the phone many times."
As if she had her rolodex sitting right in front of her, Miriam recalled that Nicole Devereaux was the Director of Guest Relations here at the Seaside Pacific. As the older woman had said, the two of them had never actually met, but as a travel agent back in Chicago Miriam had talked to her over the phone a number of times over the last year. Their last conversation had been two months ago, when she had booked what was supposed to be a long weekend aware from home, which was all the vacation she could afford nowadays.
"I'm sorry that I wasn't here to greet you when you arrived yesterday," Nicole said as their hands met, "but I'm sure my staff took good care of you."
"Yes, they did," Miriam said, now displaying her own best smile, "real VIP treatment."
"I'm glad to hear that," Nicole softly laughed. "Otherwise heads would have rolled."
As she shared the chuckle, Miriam compared the real Nicole with the image she'd formed over the phone, quickly deciding that reality was far better than what imagination had provided. Aside from her physical appearance, which said she took good care of herself, the older woman had such a positive and powerful sense of presence that it was impossible not to like her.
"It was nice of you to take the time to come out and say hello," Miriam said as she sat back down on the edge of the recliner.
"Well, professional courtesy aside," Nicole said as she sat down on the empty chair next to Miriam's, "I'll also admit to some curiosity about the person behind the voice on the phone. In a business like ours, we sometimes spend years talking to people across the country, yet never actually meet."
Miriam nodded her head, thinking that was true. As she did so, Nicole turned to Jamie and said that he could just leave the drink on the small table between the chairs, which he proceeded to do so.
"So, tell me, how is my old friend Gareth doing these days," Nicole inquired as the young waiter walked away. "Is he still as gregarious as ever?"
"You've met Gareth?" Miriam asked, the image of the boisterous, bearded owner of her agency appearing in her head.
"Oh, many times," Nicole said, "the last was, oh let me see, it has to have been two, no, three years ago. Still, he does leave an impression that stay with you."
"That he does," Miriam smiled, agreeing with her assessment of Gareth Northwell.
"In fact, I talked to him just the other day," Nicole continued. "He called to ask me to make sure that you had a good time on your vacation."
"Did he now?" Miriam replied, really surprised that he would do that.
"Well, maybe not in so many words," Nicole added, "but he did say that anything that I could do to expedite things for you would be greatly appreciated by the Northwell Agency."
"Now that sounds like Gareth," Miriam laughed.
They exchanged a few more comments about their mutual associate as well as their business in general. Then Nicole shifted the conversation to the more immediate reason she had stopped by.
"I have some good news for you," the older blonde said. "Do you remember, back when you made your reservations, you inquired about having dinner at Bonnaire's?"
