Elaine Viets & Victoria Laurie, Nancy Martin, Denise Swanson - Drop-Dead Blonde (v5.0) (pdf) Unknown (audio ebook reader .txt) 📖

``She and Brett are enjoying their honeymoon, and yes, the wedding was wonderful. They'll be back late next week. Oh! And get this! Some television producer heard about her and wants her to come out to California for a meeting!'' Theresa was an exceptionally gifted medium--the kind of psychic whose expertise is connecting the living with the dead.

``You know,'' Cat started, ``if Theresa could teach you to do that whole `I see dead people' thing, you'd have Hol- lywood producers calling you too.''

``Thanks for pointing that out, but it's either an ability you have or you don't, and I'm in the `don't' category. So if it's all the same to you, I think I'll just stick to my partic- ular forte of predicting the future.''

``I'm just saying--''

``Oh, look!'' I said pointing out the window, desperate to change the subject. ``There's our hotel!'' Chapter 2

Our limo rounded the large circular driveway of the Sea- coast Inn and came to rest next to a gigantic water fountain spraying water ten feet in the air. As Juan held our door open and Cat and I exited, a little of the mist coming off the fountain caught on the wind and peppered my upper arm with cool refreshment.

As our driver got our luggage out of the trunk I looked around at the scenery and began melting into the surround- ings as I felt my shoulders relax and the tension ooze out of my taut neck muscles.

Our hotel was a large, beautiful affair with giant palm trees framing the six-floor building of white brick and tinted windows. Balconies jutted out in neat little rows along the top five floors, and several guests could be seen taking in the view from on high.

The driveway was flanked by several gardens of tropical trees, and flowers like hibiscus, jasmine, gardenia, oleander, and bougainvillea all mixing together in a gorgeous cacoph- ony of hot pinks, yellows, purples, and oranges, while a symphony of sweet perfumery scents dazzled my nose.

Off to the side I could see the coastal waters of the Gulf of Mexico, and sighed contentedly at the soothing sound of surf meeting sand and the smell of salt lightly scenting the air.

When I'd had my fill of the outdoors, Juan led us inside, carefully maneuvering the revolving door of the front lobby as he carried our luggage, which was an odd mixture of Louis Vuitton meets Rubbermaid. Once inside, Cat walked slightly ahead of me as my eyes ogled the lobby, which dazzled with its mixture of lush tropical flowers, huge sky-

260 BLIND SIGHTED 261 lights, overstuffed furniture, and simple white marble floors. While my sister checked us in I was free to wander around and get familiar with the layout.

I found the hotel to be a simple rectangular structure with a large dais lobby bubbling out like a Buddha belly at the building's base, with two one-story wings jutting off to each side. I walked over to the right wing first to see what was down that hallway, and took in the signage that the hotel's restaurant was at the end of the corridor. Head- ing over to the left wing I saw more signage indicating that the convention halls were on this wing. To one side I noted a large poster with Deirdre Pendleton's black-and-white photo welcoming patrons to her three-day seminar, which would begin promptly at six this evening.

I ran an eye down the itinerary for the event and held back a groan. Each topic heading was preceded by a big gold star and the list began with dinner and an introduction by Deirdre for that evening, followed by such fun times as ``Meet your spirit guide!'' or ``What your angels want from you!'' and, of course, ``How to lead a more fulfilled life!''

I couldn't help but notice that after each individual semi- nar there were twenty-minute intervals where ``Deirdre's Fairyland Magic'' books, tapes, cards, clothing, crystals, and jewelry could all be purchased; Visa, Mastercard, and American Express accepted.

Oh, boy.

After shrugging my shoulders, I moseyed back over to the lobby and resisted the urge to whine to my sister about having a perfectly good vacation ruined by sitting indoors at some boring psychic convention. My disappointment was compounded by the spectacular view of the ocean I found off to the right of the check-in counter as a crystal-white beach and azure blue ocean beckoned my bikini-clad bot- tom for a little sit-down time.

Lured by the beauty of the beckoning surf, I walked over to the beach entrance and was staring out the window when a door to my right opened and the sound of splashing and children at play caught my attention. Curious, I walked over to the other door and peeked through the window- pane. A large pool complete with waterfall and huge deck peppered with lounge chairs called alluringly to me. I gawked at all the people sunbathing and relaxing or playing 262 Victoria Laurie in the pool, and my shoulders slumped. God, I wanted to join them.

``Ready?'' Cat asked, suddenly appearing beside me and attempting to hand me a room key.

``Huh? Oh, yeah . . . ready,'' I said smearing a huge plastic grin on my face the way I did when I was little and my parents announced a vacation to historical Gettysburg, Virginia. Yippee-friggin'-yee?

I followed after Cat as we headed to the elevator and waited beside two other women who looked like they'd just gotten off a Grateful Dead tour. Both women were dressed in wildly colored tie-dyed cotton dresses, with bangles on every possible appendage. They wore no makeup, their hair was long and stringy, and each had a rather dreamy smile on her face that made me wonder if they'd just chowed down on an entire batch of ``happy brownies''.

While we were waiting for the elevator Cat and I checked out the Peace Sisters,