Just perfect. Day 732 in paradise, I thought to myself. I had been keeping track of that number for just over two years now, counting the days and reminding myself to be grateful for each and every one of them. This was exactly what I was searching for when I came out here—peace.
I heard footsteps approaching along the boardwalk, the telltale tread of sandals on wood, and they paused behind me. After a moment, someone cleared their throat. “Hey, Toby. Miguel should be headed back from the airport by now. Did you want a lift over to the main building to meet the new guests?”
My smile widened as I cracked my eyes open and glanced over my shoulder at Pierre. He was the newest addition to the staff here, and he wasn’t familiar with the pace of things yet. “No, it’s all good. I prefer to walk.”
He gnawed on the inside of his cheek for a second, and I could practically see him wrestling with a frown. “But… won’t you be late?”
“There’s no such thing as late at Paradise Isle,” I teased, although I also believed it to be true. We ran on island time around here. “Birdie will get them checked in, it’s all good.”
Pierre waited for a long moment, probably waiting for me to change my mind, but when I didn’t, he finally gave a stilted nod and awkwardly made his way over to where he’d parked his golf cart. I watched him hop in and drive off, the electric motor giving a high whine as he headed toward the resort’s main building.
I understood his unease all too well. Heck, I’d felt it myself when I first started this little island resort. Most of the staff had that same attitude when they arrived—wound so tight from the busy-bee bustle of city life—but in the end, wasn’t that the precise reason they’d all found themselves here in the first place? Everyone here was running away from something, whether it was their family, their past, maybe some traumatic event, or simply their own jaded attitude about the way the modern world was slowly spiraling down the drain, losing touch with everything that truly mattered. Whatever their reason, they all came here with the same expectation of how things worked—and they were all wrong.
That was okay, I didn’t mind helping them relearn the basics. In fact, it was perhaps one of my favorite things, to see them shrug off those shackles of conventional society and discover a new way to live. Their smiles soon softened and became more frequent, their shoulders relaxing away from their ears as the stress sloughed away. It was a thing of beauty.
I sighed blissfully once more then dropped my sandals into the sand and slipped them on, wiggling my toes against the grit. I had four guests arriving from the mainland today; a couple on their honeymoon, an omega who’d signed up for our singles week, and… Gabriel Barclay, renowned travel blogger.
I still wasn’t entirely sure why I had applied on his website. It wasn’t like I needed to build our brand or anything. I was happy with the few reservations I had. Word of mouth had so far been enough to keep this place afloat, but a few months back, one of my guests—a businessman who’d come with his coworkers for a company team-building event—had mentioned how this blogger was the epitome of travel gurus, and after visiting his blog out of sheer curiosity, I found myself filling in the form. I guess part of me saw this as a challenge, or maybe it was the man’s pictures, where he was posed in front of famous landmarks, wearing a polo shirt buttoned right to the top, hair perfectly styled, eyes shaded by designer sunglasses—something about him made me want to help him pull the stick out of his ass.
Once the idea had wormed its way into my brain, it wouldn’t come unstuck. But even as I was applying for the blogger to visit, I honestly didn’t think he would pick little old me. I mean, we were just some random resort in the middle of nowhere. We had no reputation, no budget to speak of. So I was completely shocked when he had replied to let me know that he’d accepted my invitation.
Did I care what he thought of our little resort? No, not really, but I still found myself lining up a full weekend of activities for him—snorkeling, learning to surf, whale watching, an island-style BBQ on the beach. If he was coming all this way, he might as well leave happy, right? It was no less than I would hope for any of my guests.
My pace remained leisurely as I followed the boardwalk along the beach. It was only a ten-minute walk or so, to cross the entire length of the resort’s coastline. At regular intervals, paths disappeared through the foliage to the right, leading to the private cabins. It was nothing too fancy, but it was comfortable. Thick, soft mattresses and outdoor showers, plus the freshest fruit and seafood to tempt your tastebuds. You wouldn’t be surfing the internet on your cell phone while you were here, but that was kind of the point, wasn’t it? Coming to the cay, you were leaving everything else behind—your stress and your worries, along with your work schedule.
By the time I arrived back at the main building, the sun was just beginning to set. This was my favorite time of day, when the sky was painted orange and pink. I knew the guests would be checked in by now, and we would likely see them drawn to the restaurant patio for drinks and dessert and to watch the sunset.
I stepped through the archway to the open-air lobby, and Birdie gave me one of her wide grins. I was about to head over to see if she needed any help with anything, when Miguel trotted over, waving at me to get my attention.
“Hey, boss,” he greeted, but his usual smile was strained.
“What’s up, big guy?” I asked. “You look a little stressed out.”
He shrugged, his thick shoulders shaking with a deep chuckle. “You could say that.” I waited for him to elaborate, and he rubbed a calloused hand across the back of his neck. “We might have a problem.”
“Whatever it is, we’ll handle it,” I said casually, heading toward the lounge that opened off the back of the lobby. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”
He followed along and dropped himself onto a stool at the bar while I slid behind the counter to pour us drinks. “So, what’s up? That blogger got in okay?”
“Yeah… sorta. His luggage got left behind in Miami, but I grabbed him some clothes from the gift shop so he would have something clean to wear.”
I paused, bottle of coconut rum hovering over the glass. “Then what’s the problem?” It was weird to see Miguel stressed out. He’d been living on Creston Cay longer than I’d been here, and I’d never seen him anything other than easygoing.
“Well, when I contacted the mainland about getting his luggage flown out on the next plane, they told me it might be a while. They’re grounding flights headed this way. That tropical storm to the east of us is building strength. They’re predicting it to make landfall on the US coast Sunday evening.”
“Oh, is that all? You had me worried for a second.” He shook his head at me while I finished pouring the rum and added some pineapple juice, orange juice, a splash of grenadine, then a maraschino cherry and wedge of pineapple on the rim. “Bottom’s up,” I said, sliding the glass across the counter to Miguel.
I could feel the doubt coming off him in waves. “How are you so relaxed right now?”
Grabbing my own drink, I led the way to the patio and sat down in one of the loungers so I could put my feet up and watch the sunset. Miguel settled in on the chair beside me, still too tense, in my opinion. “What do you want me to do?” I asked him. “I can’t control the weather. Right now, they’re predicting it’ll pass us by, but if a storm hit, then we’ll manage, just like we always do.”
“Right,” he said tightly.
I reached up and tugged at his shirt sleeve. “Lie back,” I instructed him. “Whatever happens tomorrow or the next day or the day after that, none of it matters in this moment. So lie back, drink up, and enjoy the sunset. Whatever comes next, it is out of our hands, so there’s no sense in stressing about it today.”
Miguel obediently settled his large frame back onto the lounger and sipped at his drink, the straw making a slurping sound.
I tried my best not to let his worry get to me, but later that night as I crawled into bed, listening to the wind rattle the palm fronds outside my window, I couldn’t help but feel that tingle of unease. I crossed my fingers, hoping that the storm would miss us this time.