Hurricanes in Paradise Page 3

  Her clear blue eyes darted upward and found the arrow pointing toward baggage claim. She pointed her body in that direction. She’d traveled enough to know her way through airports. Sam had taken her all through Europe; they took a cruise of the Mediterranean and had traveled doing mission work in Ukraine. She had loved it back then. But now it seemed useless. Plus, until this exact moment, she had never traveled alone. She hugged her tote tighter against her meaty arm as she made the resolution not to call her children this entire week. They had sent her out here, so they could worry sick about her until she got home.

  She passed a mirrored wall and turned toward her reflection. It sparkled. Her blue denim outfit was bejeweled and a declaration of her Nashvegas life. She ran her fingers through her snow-white locks, then patted her midsection.

  Her body was also reflective of the years she’d traveled and the baggage she’d claimed. Her middle section had found companionship and she’d enjoyed the introductions. So, with no intentions of remarrying, she decided if her midsection made more friends along the way, she’d just see how far her elastic could stretch.

  A picture of the Atlantis hotel was lit up on the wall in front of her. She caught her breath and turned her head. She and Sam had come here about fifteen years ago, and she didn’t like going to places they had been. She still avoided Friday night movies, Saturday morning walks, and the Japanese steak house. She was content to put those parts of her life behind her. That included travel. Those desires had died with Sam. And so had a part of her.

  She exited the terminal with her Vera Bradley luggage. Salty air blew over her denim as she walked into the Bahamian afternoon sun. It was thick and warm, and as it passed over her, so did a smile and a slight hint of gratitude. Her children, however, would never know.

  “You must be Mrs. Winnie Harris?”

  Winnie turned toward the nice-looking man and set her tote on the ground. She tugged at the sleeve of her jacket and pulled it off. “And you must be Roy Rogers,” she laughed.

  Roy reached up to help her out of her jacket. “I am. Are you ready for your car?”

  “Thank you,” she said, reaching for the jacket he now held. Her thick arms were now fully visible from her sleeveless pink polo. “This is silly, though. I can take a cab. My kids shouldn’t have spent money on a car.”

  Roy leaned over and placed his hand on her upper arm. “They want you to enjoy yourself. Plus, it’s not much more than the taxi fare anyway. Climb inside and relax. You’re on Bahamian time now,” he said as he moved his hand and opened the back door to a green 4Runner.

  Winnie gave him a smirk and tilted her head. “You treat all the girls like this, Roy?”

  “Only the beautiful ones, Miss Winnie. Only the beautiful ones.”

  She slapped him playfully and climbed into the car.

  He held the door for her, and when she had settled herself and buckled her seat belt, he spoke. “You should know, Miss Winnie, that these Bahamian waters have healing in them.”

  “Now, don’t go throwing some voodoo mojo on me or something, Mr. Rogers. I’m a good old Baptist girl, and we don’t go for any of that stuff.”

  Roy’s thick laugh came from his gut as his chest shook up and down. “No mojo, Miss Winnie. Just good, healing water. But there’s something you need to know about it.”

  Her blue eyes widened.

  “You can only find it if you’re willing to face your fears.”

  She reached her hand out of the open car door and wagged her finger at him. “Roy, I’m not afraid of anything. I’m the principal of some of the toughest kids in Nashville, who tower head and shoulders over me. I just traveled all the way to the Bahamas at the age of seventy-two all by myself, and I’m trusting that you’re putting me in a car that’s going to take me to my hotel and not some side street where young boys are going to try and have their way with me. Even though I doubt any of them have had this much woman before.”

  Roy’s laughter escaped again with a burst.

  “But thanks for telling me. If I find someone who needs healing, I’ll let them know they’ve come to the right place.”

  “You do that, Miss Winnie. You do that.” His laugh was still audible even after he closed the door.

  Her driver was a thirtysomething Bahamian native named Florence. Florence gave her a tour of the city as they wove through the roads of Nassau on the wrong side of the street.

  “Ooh, child. You like to ride up people’s butts over here, don’t you,” Winnie said as she pushed her body back into the seat as if that would create distance.

  Florence laughed as she jerked the wheel and pulled them around a car that had been coasting in front of them. By the time Florence pulled up to the front of the hotel, Winnie regretted the fact that she had left her Depends at the house.

  “Florence, any chance you’re going to be my driver when I leave here?” she asked when Florence opened the door to let her exit. She wasn’t asking out of hope.

  “I don’t know, ma’am. Never can tell what my schedule’s going to be.”

  She patted the driver’s arm with a slight tremble in her hand. “Well, don’t rush back on account of me, okay, honey?”

  “I’ll drive you anywhere, anytime, Miss Winnie. You just call Roy and ask for me.”

  “Sure, yeah, absolutely. But I think I’ll probably be staying here most of the time anyway. So don’t sit around waiting for Miss Winnie, okay?”

  Florence laughed and climbed back into the car while a young valet retrieved her things.

  “Where’s the bar, son? I think I need a drink.”

  He laughed. “You can take your pick, ma’am. There are quite a few around here.”

  She took in a deep breath and turned toward the lobby. The place was magnificent. Everything about it was modern elegance, yet timeless and classic. And it had a hipness to it too. She wished her students could be here. But she knew most of them wouldn’t be able to comprehend it all. When all you know are gangs, hunger, and drugs, there are some things in life that your soul can’t even begin to assimilate. Beauty like this was often one of them. Some of them still had trouble believing in her, and she was no beauty queen.

  She walked into a large room where the front desk and concierge resided, the sound of the waterwall already washing away the stress. “My, my, my . . . look at this place.”

  “Are you Ms. Harris?” a brunette asked as she extended her hand.

  “Mrs.,” Winnie corrected. It was still Mrs. to her.

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  Winnie patted the woman’s bony arm. “Honey, not a thing to worry about. And aren’t you a breath of Southern sunshine. Where are you from, darlin’?”

  She smiled. “Charleston. I’m Riley Sinclair. I’m the head of guest relations here.”

  “Well, Miss Riley Sinclair from Charleston, I love the low country. Shrimp and grits, low-country boils. Can’t you tell I know where the good food is? And speaking of good food, if we’re going to apologize for anything, it needs to be the fact that you pass by food every day and don’t eat it. You’ve been here too long.”

  Riley laughed again. “Well, I’ll make sure I do better with that.”

  “You need to. Really, honey, men don’t want to marry scrawny chickens. They want hens with breasts and thighs and meat on their bones. Not that I even know if you want to get married or not. Shoot, you might already be married, but if you’re not, you really need to think about putting the fork to your lips, sweetheart. I mean seriously.” She came up for air. Then drew her hand up quickly to her lips. “Now I’m sorry,” she mumbled from behind her hot pink fingernail polish and then dropped her hand. “I tell kids what to do all day long. I doubt you needed to know a bit of what I thought.”

  “It’s okay, really. You’re right. I stay too busy. I probably do need to eat a little more.”

  “Did you come over here to tell me something before I blabbered like an idiot?”

  “I came to tell you that we’re so gla
d to have you. I will be here this week to take care of any of your needs. You name it and I’m here for you. I want you to experience every part of the Atlantis that you desire to.”

  “Well, I don’t really need much of anything. I’m just going to enjoy my room and maybe walk on the beach a little here or there. Have me a piña colada or two,” Winnie said with a wink, “and spend the rest of the week ignoring phone calls from my children.”

  Riley opened the folded piece of paper she had in her hands. “Well, you might be able to ignore their calls, but it seems like they’ve packed your schedule with quite a few things. You’re swimming with the dolphins tomorrow—”

  “I’m what? I’m not swimming with fish! If God wanted me to swim with fish, he’d have given me fins, not a life preserver,” she said, jiggling the flesh around her waist.

  Riley laughed. “Well, that’s not all. You also have a day at the spa and tickets to a concert on Thursday night.”

  “A day at the spa I can do. A concert? Who’s playing?”

  “We have a special concert by Harry Connick Jr. on Thursday night.”

  Winnie raised her eyebrows and pressed her lips together. “I like him. He reminds me of Sinatra. I met Frank once, you know.”

  “Really? Ol’ Blue Eyes himself?”

  “Yes,” she said, batting her own eyes at Riley. “He said my eyes were the most beautiful blue he’d ever seen.”

  “Well, I’d have to agree with him.”

  “My Sam liked them. Said they reminded him of the blue of the sky on a cloudless day. As if it were painted just for him.”

  She saw the shift in Riley’s eyes. Compassion maybe. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Harris. Please, if there is anything you need, I’m here to serve you. I have a feeling you will enjoy yourself.” She nudged Winnie’s shoulder with her own. “And I have a feeling you’re a mess.”

  “A perfect mess,” she giggled.

  * * *

  As soon as she got to her room, Winnie peeked out of the sliding doors to make sure they had honored her request. They had. There was no sign of the Beach Tower from her window, just the breathtaking ocean that only exists with this kind of beauty in the Bahamas. Seeing it now made her feel as if she were back on those white sands fifteen years earlier with Sam’s hand in hers as he hummed their favorite song and they dug their toes into the cool sand.

  She shook away the memory, scolded it like a ninth grader, and batted back at the grief that had shamelessly tried to reach the surface. She wouldn’t allow it. She hadn’t allowed it for three years, so why in the world would she begin today?

  * * *

  “Have you found your replacement?” Laine Fulton asked her assistant of only one month with her controlled tone.

  There was stammering on the other end. She hated stammering. “It’s not a multiple-choice question. Have you found your replacement?” Her words came out deliberate. “Because turning in a book cover without me approving the final copy pretty much guarantees you’ll need to. So why don’t you take this week while I’m away to find one. You can e-mail me résumés. I’ll expect to see some by tomorrow.”

  Laine hit the End button on her iPhone. She pulled her Tumi carry-on behind her. Her black patent flats with wide silver buckles strode across the carpeted corridor in an unbroken stride. She stuck twenty dollars in the hand of a young man leaning on the arm of his luggage cart and told him to grab her bags. When he had pulled both of them off the carousel, he followed her outside.

  The afternoon Bahamian sun quickly warmed her gray, skinny-leg 7 For All Mankind jeans and black Dolce & Gabbana tank sweater as soon as she exited the airport. When all your clothes were dark, mixing and matching was easy.

  “I’m Laine Fulton,” she said, extending her hand to the man holding a sign that bore her name. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small black ponytail holder. Though her white-blonde hair barely grazed the top of her shoulders, she could still pull it back, leaving her bangs to brush the corners of her eyes.

  “Welcome to the Bahamas, Ms. Fulton. A pleasure to have you here.”

  She caught a glimpse of his name tag and puffed air. “Thank you, Roy.”

  He gave her a smile and opened the car door, showing no response to her sarcasm. She held his friendly black eyes. She wasn’t sure why. She just did.

  “Where are you from, Ms. Fulton?”

  She hated small talk with strangers. “California.”

  He held on to the handle. “Oh, you have beautiful weather all the time. So is it work or pleasure that brings you to our tropical paradise?”

  “All work. Always work.” She whispered the last statement more to herself.

  “Well, do try to fit in some pleasure, ma’am. There is much to enjoy here.”

  She placed her hand on the inside handle of the door. “I write the stories that tell others what they can enjoy.”

  “Well, when you’re writing your story, be sure and let them know that the Bahamas here are known for their healing waters.”

  “Is that so?” she asked as she climbed into the car.

  He held the door open a moment longer. “Yes, but there’s a catch.”

  She turned her face toward him. “And what would that be?” She resisted the urge to grab the door from his hand.

  “No one can be healed when they won’t let go of their disease.”

  “Well, then let’s thank God I’m not sick.” She didn’t resist any longer. She reached for the door to pull it closed. He resisted at first, then gave her a nod and closed it for her.

  Something brooding yet kind was behind his dark eyes. She watched him for a few moments, then turned to look out the window. When her car pulled up to The Cove, she was still trying to shake his words.

  * * *

  “Ms. Fulton.” A brown-eyed woman addressed her as she stepped from her car. Her Southern accent would be certain to irritate her if Laine had to listen to it for the next week.

  Laine reached out and shook the woman’s hand. “You must be Riley.”

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to have you here with us at the Atlantis.”

  “Please, no ma’am is necessary. Everything taken care of?”

  “Yes. Everything is ready and waiting for you. I’ve already checked you in and have your keys.” Riley gave her a smile and motioned for one of the valets. “Bart, take this up to Ms. Fulton’s room.” She handed him a room key inside a paper sleeve. “May I walk you up?”

  “Sure. I’d prefer that.” The air was balmy even in the open-air architecture. Laine could hear the ocean as if it were a subtle background to the elements of nature that surrounded her. “Beautiful place you have here, Riley.”

  “Thank you. We think so, and we’re glad you chose this for the setting of your new book. We’ve never had a novel set here before.”

  “I know. That’s what I do. I like to take people to places they’ve never been. My last book was set in Dubai.”

  “Yes, I heard. Sorry, I haven’t read it.”

  “You’re never supposed to tell an author you haven’t read her books.”

  Riley laughed nervously.

  Laine let her rest in her uneasiness. “Tell me about the architect.”

  “Jeffrey Beers was our interior architect. He wanted our guests to have a ‘sensory journey,’ as he called it. That’s why you have everything encapsulated here, from the sounds of the ocean and the movement of the palm trees to all the earthy elements and natural colors.”

  They passed tropical foliage that surrounded a water garden and came upon Sea Glass. Riley motioned toward it. “This is our open-air lounge. It’s sophisticated and a great place to relax with a drink or just a peaceful place to enjoy the ocean.”

  Laine could appreciate the detail, the contemporary yet still-soft lines of the exclusive resort. She had traveled the world. She knew how to appreciate beautiful things.

  Riley continued. “And this is ESCAPE. It’s the first store location of Eva Jeanbart-L
orenzotti’s. She carries some fabulous haute couture items, and it is all duty-free.”

  “Good. The government gets enough of my money.”

  “I don’t know a person who would disagree.”

  They entered the covered foyer of the actual suites at The Cove. The ceiling was as high as the outdoor corridors. “Hey, Gerard,” Riley said to a young man at the concierge’s desk. “This is Ms. Fulton. Gerard will be helping to make your stay as enjoyable as possible.”

  “Oh yes, ma’am. Absolutely.” He extended his hand. “It will be my pleasure, Ms. Fulton.”

  Laine accepted it and nodded her head graciously. “Nice to meet you, Gerard.”

  “And you too, ma’am. I am available to you 24-7. It’s my pleasure to serve you this week.”

  “Well, thank you. I appreciate that.”

  Laine followed Riley to the elevators. As the door closed behind them, the small talk Laine hated began. “You’re from Los Angeles?”

  Laine exhaled slowly. “Yes.”

  “I’ve only been there a couple times. It’s very interesting. Completely different pace.”

  “It fits me fine.” Laine paused for a moment, then took over the conversation. “So tonight I’d like us to have dinner at Mesa Grill; then tomorrow night I would prefer to eat at . . .” She stopped when she saw the slightly panicked look on Riley’s face. “I’m sorry; did you not realize I’d need you with me this week?”

  “Oh, well . . . yes . . . sure, of course. This week is about you, and I’m here for you. So Mesa Grill is fine.”

  “You’re hesitating?”

  “No, no. I’m not at all. What time would you like to go?” Riley pulled out her phone. “I’ll make our reservations.”

  “I’m an early eater because I go to bed pretty early and get up before the sun. So let’s say . . .” She looked at the white face of her two-tone Baume & Mercier watch. It was already two o’clock. “. . . six o’clock.”