“Mrs. Miranda Constance Eugenia Weatherfork. At your service. I’m the owner of this fine abode.” She waved her hand, indicating the resort at large.

“It’s absolutely charming,” Kat cooed, her accent so thick now it seemed to drag each vowel into its own syllable.

Julia and Andie shared a glance, silently daring each other not to laugh.

“How are you enjoying yourselves so far?” Mrs. Weatherfork asked.

“Um, so far, so good.” Julia pressed her lips together, turning her attention away from Andie before she broke first.

“And your lodgings. Are they to your satisfaction?”

“Quite satisfactory, indeed,” Kat replied regally. “Thank you.” For some inexplicable reason she curtsied again.

“I’m curious,” Julia asked, careful to keep her voice casual, “what inspired you to develop a resort theme based on romantic comedies?”

“My husband.”

“That’s sweet.” Julia smiled.

“The buffoon is always making fun of them.”

“Oh.” Her smile faded.

“I adore romantic comedies. They bring me such joy.” She clutched at her silk-covered bosom. “It was my greatest wish to experience what it was like to be in one.”

“Understandable,” Andie said.

“Well, my Harold doesn’t understand. Thought I was a ninny for wanting to live in a fantasyland. I decided then and there I would find a way to prove to him and the world that it’s possible.”

“Bully for you!” Kat cheered, clapping her hands like she was at a golf tournament.

“Thank you, my dear.” The woman nodded graciously. “I hope you all enjoy your stay here at Notting Hill.”

“We plan to,” Andie said.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Mrs. Weatherfork added, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Of course I want you to have fun, but remember to respect the boundaries of the game.”

“Of course.” Kat empathized solemnly. After a beat she asked, “What does that mean, exactly?”

“It means no engaging in hanky-panky with my employees,” Mrs. Weatherfork warned. “I’m not running that type of establishment.” She sighed wistfully. “Unfortunately, my lawyer told me I couldn’t.” Gathering her voluminous skirt, she bade them good evening and sailed on to greet the next cluster of guests.

“That woman is officially my hero.” Andie chuckled in admiration as Mrs. Weatherfork swept past them, gown fluttering behind her, fluffy-butted corgis in tow.

“She is quite the character,” Julia remarked, taking out her notepad and summarizing her observations about the resort’s colorful owner.

“She’s definitely life goals,” Kat agreed. “Put that thing away.” She smacked at Julia’s notepad. “This is supposed to be a cocktail hour, and for some reason I don’t have a drink in my hand.” She tilted her chin toward the bar. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”

While the bartender filled their order, Julia took a moment to scan the room.

“Looking for your shirtless man from the beach?” Andie whispered.