Resorting To The Truth

Charlotte hesitated, but the pull of the ocean views nagged her. “This is really sweet of you, Allie. You’re such a thoughtful sister. I guess—”

“I told Jack I could convince you.” Allie’s voice came through loud and clear before Charlotte could actually agree. “Go do whatever you need to do to get ready.”

“Thank you, Allie.”

“You’re very welcome. That’s what sisters are for.”

The thought saddened her again—exactly the opposite of Allie’s intent. But Charlotte couldn’t help thinking how many years they’d missed as sisters, thanks to her mother.

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING, Charlotte wanted to crawl back into bed. She’d barely slept after going over all the details of this crazy, unexpected vacation. Partly because she was determined to enjoy the experience and leave her grief and anger behind, but mainly because she was sure she should skip the trip and stay home.

She had stayed up way too late figuring out what to pack and what to wear on the plane. October in Rhode Island made a coat a necessity, but the temps in Fort Lauderdale and on the island would be too warm for more than a light jacket. Would the evenings on the island be cool this time of year because of the ocean breeze? She’d checked the weather app on her phone, but knew temperature wouldn’t tell the complete story that close to the ocean. She settled for layers since she always froze on airplanes when they reached cruising altitude.

Not that she’d done a whole lot of flying. Occasionally, she’d needed to fly to get to galleries where her art was being shown. Beyond that, she’d traveled by car and twice by train.

Once she had sorted out her wardrobe and realized how late it was, she had been terrified she’d sleep through her alarm clock. Not that she usually did, but because of that, she had woken every hour and then had finally gotten up twenty minutes before her alarm had gone off.

Charlotte was ready early, pacing in front of the window while she waited for the driver to arrive at her small, historic home. Less than a year ago, she’d used some of her considerable inheritance from her mother to buy the home she’d fallen in love with the moment she’d seen it. Having Jack as her friend and neighbor across the street was an additional perk.

Allie had offered to drive Charlotte to the airport, but she’d declined. Allie and Jack had done enough by sending her on this trip. There was no need for either of them to drive forty-five minutes from Providence to Newport on a workday, and then drive Charlotte another forty-five minutes back to the Providence airport.

Allie had forwarded the e-ticket to Charlotte, as well as a detailed itinerary for the trip. She’d need to figure out what it had cost them so she could repay them the entire amount. Allie had offered the trip as a gift, but Charlotte planned to foot the bill herself. Allie wasn’t financially stable yet, so Charlotte didn’t want her sister, or Jack, to spend money on her. Between her inheritance from her mother and her successful art career, Charlotte was financially comfortable.

She checked her watch. The car was now ten minutes late. The longer she had to wait for her driver, the more she had second thoughts about the trip. It wasn’t too late to back out.

But if she backed out, she’d have to explain to Allie and Jack why. She racked her brain but couldn’t come up with a viable reason. Telling them she didn’t feel like it wasn’t going to work.

She reviewed her mental list for about the tenth time. Tickets, casual summer clothes that had been packed away for the winter, sunglasses, phone and charger, sunscreen, as well as her e-reader with several novels she hadn’t had time to read. Her carry-on was filled with her art supplies to prevent loss or damage in transit. She was also careful to make sure there was nothing in her carry-on that might be confiscated by airport security.

She was about to call the car company to make sure she hadn’t given them the wrong time when a black town car pulled up to the curb. Charlotte stepped out the front door onto the porch to wave to the driver. Her suitcase and carry-on were already on the porch and she started down the steps with them to the sidewalk.

“Morning, Miss Harrington. I’ll take those.” The driver came around the car. His hat shadowed his face as he took her bags.

“Good morning. I just need to lock my door.” She smiled, slung her purse over her shoulder and locked the front door behind her.

This was going to happen. She nearly missed a step in her excitement, and she grabbed on to the wooden railing to steady herself.

Before she knew it, she was seated in a window seat on the airplane, on her way to Fort Lauderdale where she’d take a ferry to Sapodilla Cay.

For someone pretty cautious, she discovered that since there was no turning back, she was actually excited about this new adventure.

* * *

SAM BRITON STOOD on the private island’s dock next to the gleaming fifty-six-foot yacht named For My Grandkids. The Blaise Enterprises logo was prominently displayed just below it on the stern.

“You sure you’re good until Ben gets back?” John Blaise, Sam’s former father-in-law slash longtime boss, yelled from the top deck of the yacht. “I can stay if you 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.

* * *