“The Ocean Vista Resort,” said Kurt. “That sounds lovely.”
“Yes it does Kurt, but you should request a brochure.”
“I already did, Mary. It should come in about a week.”
When the much-anticipated trifold piece arrived, Kurt spread it out on the kitchen table.
“Look, honey, there’s the ocean! Palm trees, sand and waves, right out in back. Let’s go there!”
“I don’t know Kurt, that looks kind of like a drawing,” said Mary
“It’s what they call an artist’s rendering, Mary,” said Kurt with the expert tone of a travel agent.
The Ocean Vista Resort was in California, home to movie stars and perfect “beachy” weather. Mary dreamed of lounging on the sand.
“There’s a swimming pool too, Mary!”
“We’ll go to the beach,” she said.
A taxi dropped them in the secluded driveway of the Ocean Vista. More of an alley really. Kurt breathed in the moist, warm Los Angeles air.
“You smell that, Mary?” asked Kurt. I can almost hear the waves.
“Mary glanced at the hotel dumpster and out at the street. The odor and noise she perceived were decidedly less magical.
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