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"I want you girls to know if it were not for this man, I'd be standing here dead"
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The first thing the Hammond's notice when they park in front of the check in office is the number of affluent couples and families surrounding them. The Hammond's are well-off, to say the least, but try their hardest to be modest about it. This does not seem to be the case for some of the other families staying at the resort.
Linda whines as she looks over at a woman being escorted by a bellhop, another one following behind them, rolling a cart piled with boxes among boxes of shoes, "I told you I should've packed my brown Mary-janes! they would have gone perfectly with an outfit like that one!" she cries to her mother, pointing out the rich woman's choice of wardrobe. Baby and her father exchange a glance at Linda's dramatic claim, used to her wanting to stand out in the most mainstream way possible.
"Honey you already packed 10 pairs!" Melissa tries to remind her daughter, but all she receives in return is pouted lips and crossed arms.
"This is not a tragedy Lind, you know what a tragedy is? the Vietnam war is a tragedy," Baby points out to her sister, causing Linda to roll her eyes and turn away, mumbling underneath her breath in protest. Their father simply nods in agreement with Baby. He has always admired the assertiveness in his youngest daughter's values, her ability to put herself and her opinions out there, despite how unpopular they may be.
The tension that is held in the air dissipates as a short, pudgy, bald man walks up to them, a young man with chestnut hair in his early twenties following closely behind. The old man sports a crisp, fresh suit and a cigar between his teeth, while the younger guy wears a tight shirt that reads "Freeman's" in a bold yellow font, and bell bottoms that hug his thighs and flare out at his ankles.
"Well if it isn't Doctor Hammond!" the older man speaks, taking the cigar out of his mouth and squeezing it between his chubby middle and index fingers carelessly. His smile is big, but there is a glint of charlatan in his eyes, as if he is putting on a mask for his guests, which would not surprise Baby at all. The boy stands next to him awkwardly, watching the exchange between his boss and the new arrivals.
"Hello Richard, how's your blood pressure holding up?" Dr. Hammond asks, shaking the man's hand, his thin lips turning upwards into a polite smile. The difference between Mister Freeman's and Doctor Hammond's smiles is that his smile is genuine, no matter who the person is towards. That's just the kind of guy he is.
"Ladies," Richard says, turning towards the two young girls that have been observing the exchange quietly, "I want you to know that if it wasn't for this man I would be six feet under by now". Mr. Freeman chuckles at his own comment, despite the fact that it makes the others almost visibly uncomfortable.
Richard coughs in the awkward silence he left and pats the young man next to him on the back with his non-cigar holding hand, "well don't just stand there, get their bags!" he says, trying to mask the domineering nature in his voice with fake congeniality.
