The sidewalks teemed with the beautiful people, from scantily clad girls to a statuesque woman walking a poodle in a rhinestone vest.
“That dog’s better dressed than me.”
“You did buy a leopard caftan in Winter Park,” Jo Ellen reminded her.
“A moment of absolute madness.” Maggie clucked. “Why did you let me shop after day drinking?”
“Because we accidentally got on the highway that afternoon and you’d earned an espresso martini.”
“Which wasnothinglike coffee,” Maggie tsked. “That waitress lied to us.”
“Turn here—this is our hotel.”
“Oh, good heavens.” Maggie eased the truck under the overhang of The Selina South Beach, which looked likeTravel + Leisuremagazine had collided with a rock concert and taken a detour in the Caribbean.
The valet entrance pulsed with pink light and a sunburst chandelier. A man in linen pants and no shirt danced next to a pile of suitcases.
Maggie pulled up to the curb and turned off the engine but didn’t move. “Why do I feel like they’re not expecting two widows in sensible sandals with a travel cooler full of pimento cheese?”
Jo Ellen patted her hand. “We’re women of the world.”
“We’re women of adifferentworld.”
Two valets immediately opened their doors and greeted them, promising to watch the truck while they checked in.
Stepping onto the asphalt, Maggie was immediately hit by a wall of humid air and cloying perfume. She tugged down the hem of her shirt and squared her shoulders, heading inside like she was bracing for battle.
The lobby was all white couches, tropical plants, and glowing artwork. A wall mural readSUMMER NEVER ENDSin swirly letters above a pair of lime green angel wings. In front of it, two young women posed for pictures, wearing matching dresses that seemed to be missing waists, backs, and half of their skirts.
Maggie wrinkled her nose. “I feel like Miss Pittypat when Scarlett scandalized Atlanta at the Confederacy fundraiser.” She pretended to fan herself, making Jo Ellen laugh.
“We’re not in Atlanta anymore?” Jo Ellen joked.
Maggie shot her a look. “You mean Kansas, and that’sWizard of Oz, which, coincidentally, was made the same year, 1939.”
“And looking around?” Jo Ellen elbowed her as they approached the front desk, manned by a…person. “This place makes me feel likeIwas made that year, too.”
“You practically were,” Maggie sniffed. “Let me handle the young’uns.” She strode up to the desk and stared at a…well, she just wasn’t sure. The receptionist wore bright green eyeshadow, had yellow hair about a centimeter long, and each earlobe featured a hole large enough to drive through.
“Welcome to The Selina!” A deep voice, so she was going with ‘he’ and hoped that didn’t get her kicked out. “Are we checking in, ladies?”
“Yes,” Maggie said. “Magnolia Lawson and Jo Ellen Wylie. One room, two queens, ocean view, one night.” One long, miserable, noisy night.
“You got it, my two queens.” Grinning, he tapped the keyboard, a frown formed, and then grew deeper. “Can you spell those names?”
She did, shifting from one foot to the other.
“I am sorry. I’m just not seeing a reservation for tonight. Do you have a confirmation number?”
“I’m sure we do.” She turned to Jo Ellen, who had walked across the lobby and was gawking at the place like a true tourist. “Jo! I need you!” She frantically waved her over then turned back to the desk. “It was booked directly through your website. Pre-paid in full.” She fished into her bag. “Do you want the credit card we used?”
He shook his head, then tapped more keys. “Huh. Looks like the reservation was made but never confirmed on the system. Unfortunately, we are fully committed tonight.”
Maggie blinked. “Committed?”
Jo Ellen stepped up beside her. “That’s hotel-speak for full.”
“Iknowwhat it means,” Maggie snapped. “I was just giving him a chance to rephrase before I set this entire lobby on fire.”
