Page 2 of Finding Home at Hearts Hotel

"If I break my neck on that neon monstrosity, I’m coming back to haunt all of them," Isabel grumbled, adjusting her life vest as it cinched tightly around her ribs. Her face was a mask of stoic resignation. “I do not do well with water sports."

"Me either," Linda murmured, though her lips twitched with amusement despite her dread. "I hate those inflatable bouncy thingies. They make me feel seasick.”

“I know, and that water looks really cold,” Isabel glanced at the dark lake in disgust, unable to stifle a shudder. “Are there any ski boats anywhere that we could do a quick getaway with?”

“Unfortunately, no boats with motors are allowed on the lake!” Linda sighed.

They stepped onto the floating staging dock, where a pair of official race marshals handed them matching mesh team bibs. Standing directly across the narrow starting zone in identical neon green jerseys were their designated opponents: two formidable mothers from the Eagle View Guest Lodge in Sanibel. These women looked less like vacationers and more like tactical survivalists who spent their weekends scaling cliffs and wrestling alligators. They were aggressively stretching their hamstrings, their eyes locked onto the floating obstacle course with terrifying, laser-focused intensity.

"Oh, look," Isabel whispered, nudging Linda sharply in the ribs as she eyed the Sanibel team. "We have absolutely nothing to worry about, as our opponents are not sporty at all.” She shook her head. “Linda, we’re hopelessly doomed." She looked at her friend. “I mean I run and walk but…” She glanced at the two women getting ready. “They look like they bench press cars for fun.”

"We just have to finish," Linda whispered back, rolling her shoulders to loosen up. "Even if we have to crawl across that thing like wounded turtles, we just have to finish to get the points."

“Well, that makes my upcoming humiliation feel so much more worthwhile,” Isabel assured her sarcastically.

The floating obstacle course itself, dubbed by the festival committee as 'The Aqua-Savage Inflatable Challenge', was an architectural marvel of industrial PVC and cruel imagination. Anchored securely to the lakebed by thick nylon ropes, it floated lazily upon the sparkling water like a serpentine rainbowmonster. It featured a sequence of giant, wobbling red spheres known as the 'Wobble Spheres,' followed by a claustrophobic, dark-blue vinyl crawl-tube that baked under the direct summer sun, and finally a treacherous, narrow balance beam that stretched across four feet of open, algae-flecked water.

Overhead, perched on the central judging raft that bobbed gently in the middle of the lake, Pete raised a bright orange starter's pistol into the humid afternoon air. Through the PA system, his amplified voice boomed across the entire shoreline, cutting through the chatter of the crowd.

"All right, relay teams for heat four! Take your positions on the starting platforms!"

Linda took a deep, steadying breath, walking out onto the slippery wooden edge of the floating dock. She planted her water shoes firmly against the damp rubber mat, trying to ignore the way the dock dipped and swayed with every gentle ripple of the lake.

"Remember," Isabel called out from the second-leg handover zone a few yards away, waving encouragingly. "Stay out of their bounce range!"

"On your marks..." Pete’s voice echoed over the speakers, building the suspense as the crowd fell into a hushed, anticipatory murmur.

Linda crouched slightly, her heart hammering a nervous rhythm against her ribs.

"Get set..."

CRACK!

The starter pistol fired, releasing a sharp puff of white smoke into the air, and before Linda’s brain could fully process the command to move, her feet were already reacting. With a sharp gasp of pure adrenaline, she launched herself off the edge of the wooden dock and scrambled directly onto the first floating hurdle of the course.

The moment her weight hit the curved, air-filled red sphere, the universe tilted violently sideways.

The 'Wobble Sphere' lived up to every terrifying expectation. It offered zero traction, spinning freely on its axis the second a foot touched its slick surface. Linda’s arms shot out, windmilling wildly through the humid air as she tried to defy the laws of physics and gravity simultaneously. For one glorious, suspended second, she thought she might actually conquer it. She took one frantic, sliding step forward?—

And then her feet completely vanished from beneath her.

With a resounding, theatricalsplat, Linda went sliding sideways off the curve of the red sphere, pitching directly through the humid air and landing squarely on her stomach in three feet of refreshing, algae-tinted lake water.

From the shoreline, the Hearts Hotel team, who had gathered near the water's edge with binoculars and megaphones, erupted into an absolute roar of hysterical, unified laughter.

“Great, just great,” Linda hissed.

"Ten out of ten for artistic execution!" Owen’s voice bellowed across the water through cupped hands, waving a white towel like a surrender flag.

"Get up, Linda! Swim like a shark! Catch that Sanibel mom!" Maggie roared through her megaphone, treating a casual community lake game like a national security crisis.

Gasping and sputtering, coughing up a microscopic splash of lake water while frantically wiping wet strands of brown hair out of her eyes, Linda hauled herself back up onto the slippery red vinyl of the course. Her competitive streak flared up hot and bright in her chest. She wasn't about to let Sanibel walk away with bragging rights while she was soaked to the skin.

Ignoring the water dripping from the tip of her nose and the loud cheers of the crowd, Linda dropped deliberately to her hands and knees. She scrambled across the remainder of the rolling sphere like a determined spider, lunging forward with reckless abandon until she reached the entrance of the dark blue vinyl crawl-tube.

The Sanibel competitor had managed to stay upright across the first obstacle and was already halfway through the tunnel. But Linda had pure, unadulterated momentum and stubborn Heart pride pushing her forward. Pushing through the hot, claustrophobic plastic tube, she popped out the other side just inches behind her opponent, scrambling clumsily across the final bouncy bridge of her leg with her heart hammering a mile a minute.

Ahead of her, the second-leg handover platform loomed large, and waiting for her on the wooden transition dock was a wide-eyed and equally fired-up Isabel.