Chapter 1 On the Island #5
“Is pay better here or there?” I ask. She hesitates, her eyes dart. “I’m not asking how much you make, just a comparison.”
“Here, definitely.”
I lean forward and lower my voice. “What’s the worst part of your job?” I give her a conspiratorial wink.
She doesn’t return it. “Look, I don’t know what you’re digging for here, but you won’t get it from me. Or anyone.”
I lean back. “What do you mean?”
“I haven’t spoken to every employee here, obviously, but everyone I do know loves it here. The resort is clean, the pay is good, and Mr. Thornton looks out for us.”
“What do you mean?” I repeat.
“He’s not the boss I report to, but there isn’t a week that goes by where he doesn’t check in with me. Makes sure I’m happy, listens to my feedback. He doesn’t have to do that, you know? But he does. With everyone. And there are hundreds of employees.”
My mouth is hanging open. I snap it closed. “Every week?”
“Every. Week.”
That’s not possible.
She must see it on my face because she clarifies. “Sometimes it’s just a hello, how are things? And I don’t take up his time. And I think with some of the younger workers, he talks to them in groups, not individually.”
I did see that with a group of groundskeepers.
“But the point is, he cares. He goes above and beyond.”
“Wow.” I don’t mean to say that out loud.
“I know, right? He’s open to honest conversations, and he listens when one of us has input.
A couple of months ago, I spoke to him about letting us concierges have monthly meetings together so we can keep up on the excursions, talk about the feedback we’ve received from guests, that kind of thing.
And then we go back to Mr. Thornton with anything new we feel needs to be implemented.
We had our first meeting almost immediately after I pitched the idea, and we had another last month. This month’s is next week.”
“That’s…” I’m speechless. But I shouldn’t be. That’s how a good business is run. I decide to change tack. “I have a more specific question for you.”
She sighs.
“Last time I was here, there was an employee who got fired.” After describing him, I’m about to ask if she’s heard about him, but she’s already nodding her head.
“You’re talking about Earl.” She shudders.
“You knew him?”
“Not well. But all of us girls knew to watch out for him. He’d start with flirting—but the creepy kind, where he compliments you on a specific body part, you know?
For me, it was my collarbone. Harmless maybe, but it totally creeped me out.
And then he’d move on to either asking you out or just saying outright dirty things.
One girl actually went out with him. I guess her creep radar wasn’t working. ”
“What happened?”
“Assault of some kind. I don’t know the details, but she didn’t come to work for a while, not until Earl was fired. Mr. Thornton personally went out to see her, so I think one of her friends here must have told him what happened.”
My stomach has begun to ache. For that girl. For every woman at the resort who was harassed by that guy. For my mistake.
I thought John was belittling one of his employees. Demonstrating his power. But he was genuinely upset, and for good reason. If it had been me, I wouldn’t have been able to control my temper, either.
“Thank you for answering my questions.”
“You’re welcome.”
I walk away, pressing a hand to my stomach and hoping that breakfast doesn’t come back up again.
Frances isn’t the only person I talk to.
I interview a handful of employees, all in different departments.
Even though they all have different experiences, it all amounts to the same thing—they like working at the resort.
John is a great boss. They’re happy. Work is still work, but they’re happy.
For some, like Frances, it’s the best place they’ve worked.
I sit on a lounger outside my room, sweating in the heat but hardly noticing for the turmoil in my brain.
What the heck was I doing last time? How could I have missed so much?
I was so blinded by my disgust. Convinced the small moment I witnessed was the whole truth.
Upset at being there when my mom was just starting her battle with cancer, I must have let those emotions—that stress—color my opinions.
I never dug deeper. I never even tried to enjoy the resort or find out more about the island, or about the people here.
My dad was right—it was the worst piece I’ve ever written.
I have to fix the mistake I made.
Despite how soft the bed is, the breeze that blows over my face, the squishy sheets, I barely sleep that night. I wake early the next morning with puffy eyes and a body that feels heavy like a garbage truck. That’s what I feel like. Garbage.
So I take an early morning swim. I’m not alone in the water.
There are a few early morning surfers and some elderly couples strolling the beach or taking a morning dip like me.
I ignore them and swim laps until I’m tired but in a different way than when I woke up.
Then I float, letting the sun warm my face while my body becomes weightless, light. If only my mind could feel the same.
The water wakes me up, though, which is exactly what I need. The warm sand of the beach calls, but I know that’ll just make me sleepy again, so I head inside my room and shower, get ready. Then I go in search of John.
“He’s in a meeting,” his secretary says, glaring at me. I’m pretty sure she hates me. She could be lying, except that I can hear voices coming from John’s office.
“I’ll wait,” I say. Instead of sitting, I wander the hallway, pretending to examine the art on the walls but really trying to eavesdrop on the meeting. Old habits die hard, I guess.
“You haven’t hit your target in months,” a woman is saying. “You were up right after the renos, but after that first couple of months you haven’t gotten back to that point.”
“I know. We’re trying.” John sounds harassed. “I’ve expanded our advertising, introduced new programs at the resort—”
The woman cuts John off. “It’s not enough. You’re not getting the revenue back from the remodel, and traffic to the resort is down.”
“I need more time.”
“John, you put too much into the renovations. Realistically, I don’t think you’ll be able to turn it around.”
I’m frozen in the hallway, listening. I wish I could see inside, but I don’t dare try to look through the barely opened door.
John did all those renovations in the resort, many of them based on the critique I gave in my blog piece. And now he’s in the weeds. Badly.
I focus back on the conversation. John’s secretary is still watching me, her eyes narrowed, so I take a step away from the door. Give her an innocent smile. John is saying something, but I can’t hear him. When the secretary turns her attention to the ringing phone, I inch closer again.
“…a few more months,” the woman is saying. “I don’t see it happening, but I would hate for you to lose this place after everything you’ve put into it. Surprise me.”
John doesn’t reply. Instead, the door swings open, revealing a stunning Asian woman in a sleek black suit and heels holding a briefcase. She raises an eyebrow at me while I blush, furiously. Behind her, John sees me, but his face reveals nothing.
“It was good to see you, John,” the woman says, shaking his hand before she brushes past me.
John puts his hands on his hips and eyes me.
No doubt he thinks I’m up to something. He’s got on blue pants and a pale pink button-down shirt which stretches across his chest. The top two buttons are open, revealing his tanned skin and, for a moment, I wonder if he’s naturally that dark or if it’s a permanent tan.
“I…” Have no clue what to say. He won’t buy any excuse about my eavesdropping, and whatever I had planned to say to him when I was coming down here is completely gone.
“Take a walk with me,” he says and strides past me. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
The secretary nods. “Yes, sir.”
The elevator dings open. John turns around and beckons to me.
I scurry, lose my footing in my wedge sandal, regain my balance and walk at a normal pace to the elevator. John keeps the door open for me, his face not even cracking at my stumble.
I stand beside him, and the elevator doors close.
We say nothing as the elevator goes down. I fidget with the hem of my shorts while John is a statue beside me. I follow him through the lobby. It isn’t until we step outside that he stops and takes a deep breath in.
He sees me watching and says, “I needed some fresh air.”
I nod.
His phone buzzes and he turns it off, then shoves it back into his pocket.
“Come on,” I say, my mouth finally loosening.
“Where are we going?”
“No idea.” I follow the walkway, letting it set my destination. It winds through manicured grass, past beds of native flowers, their smell sharp and sweet in my nose. Over a bridge that covers a meandering stream, through a thick stand of trees.
The walkway takes us to a viewing point which overlooks the beach, tidy with matching lounge chairs and bars in the shape of tiki huts.
Looking past the man-made comforts, I see the ocean stretching wild and free into infinity.
I love the mix. I’m too pampered to wish everything man-made away, and yet I love to see the earth, the ocean especially, the way it’s meant to be.
I snap a pic and post it to my story.
“I really love it here,” John says. We both have our elbows resting against the wooden fence. He’s leaned over, his face more at my level. “I just wanted to help the island survive.” He laughs without humor. “Sounds so pretentious, doesn’t it? Like I think I’m some kind of God.”
“You’re not a God,” I say.
He looks at me. “I know.”
“But it’s okay to be a man trying to do his best. And, when he’s trying to do his best for others, that’s pretty great.”