Gordon read the letter with growing concern. It was from the Chamber of Commerce requesting his appearance at their office for an interview regarding a complaint from someone who had stayed at Posada de Jardines. He read the name and dug out the room card. It was dated three months ago. The couple was from Chicago and had occupied number twelve. He checked the back of the card for comments and found none and he scratched his head in confusion.

"Deb! Got a minute?"

She leaned in the office doorway. "What?"

He handed her the letter and asked if she remembered the couple at all.

"That would have been some time in February."

"I know that. Do you remember them?"

She shot him a look. "Wasn't she the one with the really heavy eye makeup and the fringe cut hair?"

He stared up at her. "Deb, all the women that come through here wear heavy eye makeup and fringe cut hair."

"They do not."

"I know, but it doesn't register with me so can you think of something specific- something really stand out that would prompt a complaint?"

"Since when doesn't eye makeup register with you?" She sounded worried and he noticed that her own had been applied in abundance.

"It's just something that I don't notice with guests." He hoped the emphasis rescued him from a debate on cosmetics.

She looked back at the letter and sniffed. "He got a parking ticket." Her finger shot up. "That was it! Remember we said that there was only room for one car per room in our lot and we had a full house. They came in separate cars and took two spots."

"I remember now. I stuck a ten dollar ticket on the woman's car." He made a note on the room card, puzzled as to why he hadn't done it at the time. "He paid it but raised a stink when the left."

"So now he's complaining? Three months later?"

"Looks like it. I have to go down there tomorrow morning for an, 'in-ter-view'."

"Pompous asses." Deborah handed the letter back.

"Tell me about it. All those ideas I submitted are probably at the bottom of their shredder. They didn't even debate them!"

"That's because—what's her name—?"

"Jeannette Whyst."

"Yeah, her. She's is a real piece of work. I was at the hairdressers one day when she was in getting that mop of hers dyed and you should have heard her carry on—"

"That's a dye job?" Deborah scowled at him. "Yeah, okay. Well I have a few things to check out so . . ."

"Dinner's at seven-thirty. Do not be late, Gordon."

"God forbid." He waved and hurried out of the office. When Deborah got into boss mode, it was time to disappear. He wandered around to the parking area and checked the car plates to make sure they were only hotel clients. His thoughts drifted to the Chamber of Commerce and Jeannette Whyst. Now there was a woman whose makeup, wardrobe, hairstyle and general appearance did register; she was hot, hot.

He picked up some litter that had blown onto the drive and took it around to the garbage dumpster. Across the wall from the back of the hotel, he could hear an argument from the small apartment building and he frowned. Spanish sounded so loud somehow. Back on the pool court, he greeted the winter crowd, commenting politely on various topics they brought up.

"Gordon, Manny likes the pool a little cooler. I think your thermometer reads over eighty?" Ann Grunwald tilted her scarf covered head and gave him a dainty smile.

"The general consensus is eighty, Mrs. Grunwald–"

"Oh please, Gordon. It's Ann." The smile turned sugary.

"Ann it is. But, as I was saying, good old Sol up there likes to add a few degrees of its own." He saw the rebuttal forming and hurried to continue. "If I set it lower then it takes too long to bring it back up after old Sol goes to bed." He beamed his own smile back at her and held it until she gracefully slunk away.

"Gordon, can I get an old bowl or something to put some water in for Bitsy?"

"I'll see what I can dig up, Henry." He eyed Bitsy, a skinny excuse for a dog, with hair that grew in tufts and a face created from a vicious door slam. The only pet only allowed because Henry stayed for the entire winter. He nodded to the others and then scooted back to the laundry area to make sure Nita hadn't doubled up on the loads again.

**************************

Monday was a dull, gloomy day with a possibility of showers—a supposed rarity that seemed to occur with annoying regularity, which meant the guests would be confined to quarters. Deborah had prepared a wonderful dinner the night before and her choice of wine had surprised him. It was good for a change, not the usual vinegar smoothies she usually found. They had waited until the patio cleared of the winter crowd's after dinner consult, and then settled in front of the TV to watch a sexy movie. Thirty minutes in and they were duplicating scenes among the scattered sofa cushions.

Gordon smiled goofily in the mirror as he dressed and cleaned himself up for his early morning meeting. He had made some notes so that he would sound up to date and informed. Armed with his reasons for what he determined to be the complaint, he checked to see that Nita was doing her chores, opened and closed the dryer with a satisfied nod, set the switchboard to take messages and set off for town. It was only half a dozen short blocks so he decided to walk in spite of the weather warning.

The Chamber's office was on the second and top floor of the Palm Mall, overlooking the small park in the rear where some of the town's activities took place. Dog shows, Bake sales and the like. He climbed the stairs, nodding to a couple of retailers he knew and went down to the office, knocking and walking in.

"Mr. Hardy, Glad you're on time."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

The chubby man pulled at a suspender and stood from behind his desk. The difference was minimal as Roger Dortmund was only about five feet tall with a fringe of dyed hair that screamed as such. He grabbed a jacket from the hook on the wall and struggled into it as he beckoned with his head for Gordon to follow him.

"We're really busy today so I hope this can be settled amicably." He opened the door and ushered Gordon in.