Resorting To The Truth. Lisa Dyson
need me.”
“I think we can manage,” Sam replied. “This conference coming in isn’t very large, about a hundred people. Between Ben’s new assistant, Katie, and me, we should be able to handle them.”
Sam’s day had begun with the resignation of his conference manager due to his mother’s illness in Liverpool, England. That was followed by a water leak in room 315 that had seeped into rooms 215 and 115. On top of that, one of the two elevators was down; a part was expected to be shipped overnight. Although, on this island, overnight shipping was hit or miss.
“I like what you told Ben about taking a leave of absence and moving his parents here. I knew you would handle the manager position like a pro.” John grinned, the deep lines in his tanned face defined, and gestured up the boardwalk. “Here come the kids.” Sam’s children, Emma and Oliver, walked side by side, rolling their suitcases and wearing backpacks. John slipped around the corner to hide from them.
As soon as they got close enough, Sam wagged a finger at them while working desperately to hide his grin. “I expect you both to behave and don’t take advantage of your grandfather.”
“Oh, Daddy.” At twelve going on twenty, Emma had recently decided she’d outgrown her father’s sense of humor.
He slumped his shoulders dramatically and tugged on her funky striped hat. “Oh, Emma.”
She huffed as she adjusted her hat.
“Papa promised we could go bowling when we get to port.” Nine-year-old Oliver could barely contain his excitement. “He said there’s a new place in town since the last time we stayed with him. They have lanes with bumpers, too, so I don’t keep throwing glutter balls.”
“Gutter balls,” Sam corrected. “Just don’t bug Papa about going. If Papa says he’s too tired or wants to do something else, then no fussing. Got it?”
Both kids nodded in agreement. He had no doubt they’d have a great time. John had been widowed for almost ten years and he needed time with his grandchildren as much as they needed time with him. If not for John’s help and support, Sam never could have concentrated on being a single dad while rising to the level of resort manager.
Of course, it helped that John owned the Grand Peacock chain of resorts, as well as Sapodilla Cay, but Sam had pushed himself harder than he’d thought possible to qualify for the position. He never wanted anyone to say he didn’t deserve it.
John popped up from his hiding place on the boat and joined them on the dock.
“Papa!” Both kids ran into his waiting arms, Emma obviously forgetting she thought she was too old to be picked up by her grandfather.
The advantage of being a grandparent compared to a mere dad.
Sam grinned and spoke to John. “Thanks so much for taking them. Monica will be back very late Monday night, so either Monday evening or Tuesday morning would work for you to bring them back.” The resort, plus a few touristy shops and sparse housing, took up most of the island, so there was no school for his kids to attend. Finding Monica to tutor Emma and Oliver, as well as a few offspring of resort employees, had been sheer luck.
“I’m glad she’s working out.” John pushed his nearly white hair back from his forehead where the wind had blown it.
“She’s been a lifesaver. She doesn’t even mind hanging around in our suite until late at night when I have to be somewhere.”
“I hope she’s having a good time with her parents.” John rubbed his unshaven cheek. “You said it’s their thirtieth wedding anniversary?”
“Yeah. She asked for the long weekend off months ago. What were the odds that Ben’s parents would need him at the same time?”
“The headaches of running a resort.” John waved to the kids, who’d drifted to the far end of the dock. They were pointing to something in the clear water, probably some sort of sea creature.
When they were within earshot he said, “How about handing me those suitcases, Oliver.” John stowed their identical blue and pink suitcases as his grandson passed them onto the yacht.
Many years ago, John and his late wife, Rita, purchased the easy-to-maneuver boat, not wanting to give up their ability to travel by sea as they aged. They never thought death would separate them long before they expected.
Barely a few minutes later, Sam hugged his kids until they squealed, and then waved goodbye from the dock. Heading back to the resort along the boardwalk that spanned the sandy white beach, his heart constricted. He missed them and their lovable quirks already.
He checked his watch as he entered the open-air lobby. Their guests should begin arriving in less than two hours. Enough time for a final review of the week’s activities with Katie and a much-needed hit of caffeine.
* * *
“GOOD AFTERNOON, FOLKS. This is Captain Jonas here.” Charlotte opened her eyes and strained to hear the pilot as the entire plane quieted to listen. They’d pulled away from the gate ten minutes ago and then stopped with no explanation before now. From her window seat, she didn’t see any other planes taking off, either. Maybe her flight would be canceled and she could go home. Her heart beat faster until the captain continued speaking.
“There’s a storm hanging out just west of the airport, and no one’s taking off. As soon as we get clearance, I’ll be back to let you know. Until then, sit back and relax.”
“Easy for you to say,” Charlotte mumbled. The noise level rose as passengers complained. She reached under the seat in front of her to pull out her itinerary from her purse. Her flight was supposed to arrive in Fort Lauderdale at three, which gave her two hours before the ferry to Sapodilla Cay left at five. Taking into consideration that she needed to go to baggage claim and then take a taxi for the short drive to Port Everglades, this plane better take off quickly. She’d never been on a trip like this before and had no idea if there would be a security checkpoint that might be backed up.
The older woman sitting in the middle seat next to Charlotte tsked as she continued to crochet something pale pink and tiny. She glanced at Charlotte. “Never fails. I’m always on the flight that’s delayed.” The woman’s bright green eyes were prominant in an oval face lined with faint wrinkles. She peered at Charlotte, waiting for a response.
“You fly often?” she asked politely. She wasn’t in the habit of conversing with strangers, but she reminded herself of her vow to have fun and leave her worries behind.
“Oh yes. Several times a year.” The woman continued crocheting as she spoke, her hands moving rhythmically. “My grandkids live in Rhode Island. I’ve been living in south Florida for about ten years.” She glanced at her hands, then back at Charlotte.
Charlotte checked the sky through her small window. “Looks like it’s clearing over that way.”
When the woman didn’t comment, Charlotte stuffed her itinerary back into her purse, shoved it under the seat in front of her and leaned her head back. Her eyes drifted shut. She hoped her seat neighbor would take the hint.
“Allie?” A woman’s loud voice came from the aisle nearby.
Charlotte didn’t open her eyes, instead regulated her breathing and tried to block out the commotion around her.
“Allie!” The woman was insistent.
The older woman nudged Charlotte with her elbow and said in a whisper, “I think that woman is speaking to you, dear.”
Charlotte’s eyes popped open to see a plump, fifty-something woman with an unruly mop of dark, curly hair and black-rimmed glasses.
“I didn’t know you were on this flight.” The woman’s speech was quick, her silver hoop earrings bouncing randomly. “I’m surprised you’re coming to the conference after the way things turned out at DP. You know, when you left.” She used finger quotes for “left” and never seemed to stop talking