Chapter 14
JACOB
Ispend most of the next morning pacing my room in the hotel alone.
I was only supposed to visit this island for a few hours.
Now I’ve been here two nights, and I don’t want to leave.
Billie keeps spending time with me too, for some reason.
I think she has it in her head that the more she can show me, the more likely I will be to say, oh well, never mind, and back off.
And the thing is, the more she shows me, the worse I feel about my plan. I wasn’t lying to her yesterday when I told her my lawyers had everything all set and that it was out of my hands. Sure, I could tell them to stop, but they’re in process right now, so it wouldn’t do much good.
The fact is, I do want this island. I am falling in love with it.
Yesterday afternoon, we spent hours on that beach, wandering about, exploring. For the first time since I met her, Billie almost let her guard down with me, giggling as she showed me a starfish. As we poked in rock pools. As she smiled.
I can understand why she’s the face of this island.
It’s not only because she’s beautiful. She’s intelligent, too.
The way she was talking about all their litter campaigns and anti-oil activism was so articulate I couldn’t do anything but agree.
Usually, I find people who would chain themselves to railings incredibly annoying.
Hell, I’ve had enough protests over my own work to know what they’re like.
It turns out that owning a business empire can get you a hell of a lot of fans but also make you really unpopular at the same time.
Her passion sparkles. She’s not doing it to look like she’s doing the right thing. She’s doing it because it is the right thing.
All morning, I debate between telling James to call the whole thing off or telling him to expedite the process so I can have the island sooner. But expediting the process means Billie will want to stop hanging out with me, and calling it off means I have no reason to stay.
Not that Billie is the reason I want to stay.
Not exactly. She’s not what I would call a friend, but somehow that’s made hanging out with her even better. There are no stars in her eyes when she speaks to me. To her, I’m as normal as any other person, and that’s something my heart has been crying out to be seen as.
This afternoon is the height of summer, and the islanders are having their annual cookout.
They’ve closed off South Beach for it, specifically invited everyone who wants to come, and Billie’s told me I have to be there.
She’s told me it’s the event of the year, that if I don’t come, I’ll be missing out.
The idea of spending time with several hundred people is not one that appeals to me, but there will be free food, and Billie seems excited to go.
Billie. Everything comes back to her.
Some small part of me is going to miss her when I go. When I send her away. If I send her away.
I decide to have a long shower to try and take my mind off things, but the hot water runs out fifteen minutes in, and I feel guilty for wanting to use up the resources. Billie really has been getting to me if I’m thinking about environmental waste.
It’s funny — despite being told over the years that I should make my business more environmentally friendly, I never paid it any attention until today. Until Billie.
When I get out of the bathroom, I rummage through my suitcase to see if I have anything more casual than a suit. I didn’t bring enough clothes to stay for more than a day, and I didn’t bring anything that anyone here would call casual.
Billie told me all the stores would be closing early today, so I throw on a random shirt and some pants and hope I haven’t gotten up too late to buy something. Several of the stores have already turned the lights off, but to my relief, one place that looks to be selling beachwear is still open.
I rush inside and ask the person at the counter to help me find something to wear for the beach barbecue.
She cocks her head to one side, her hair flopping over to reveal her undercut, then leads me over to the shorts and Hawaiian shirts.
“I don’t think I do bold patterns,” I tell her, and she gives me a sardonic grin, as if to say I can tell.
But she’s nice enough to me even as a problem-customer, and eventually I’ve managed to pick out a whole new wardrobe of linen shorts and shirts with subtle ocean-themed prints. She rings me up and almost cringes at the total, but the number doesn’t faze me.
I’ve spent more money on less before.
“Can I leave a tip?” I ask.
“I guess.” She shrugs. “No one usually does.”
“Ring me up for another hundred dollars.”
“What?” She blinks, her mouth dropping open.
“For a tip,” I say, taken aback at her surprise. “It’s a fair one, isn’t it?”
She blinks a few more times like her brain is restarting, then chokes out, “Yeah, for sure. Thank you.”
I pay the tip, and as I walk away, something warm blooms inside my chest, like the satisfaction that I’ve just made this woman’s day.
I wonder how much they struggle here for business, how much they rely on this time of year to try and make a profit.
Is my purchase going to be one of the things that keeps that store afloat for another year?
Not that they have a year. I’ll be shutting it down well before then, won’t I?
As the time for the barbecue approaches, I throw on one of the shirts with a comical lobster print, and a new pair of shorts. Stepping out into the bright sun in my new outfit feels like a relief. My suits are high-end, but they’re not designed for this kind of weather.
When I hit the beach, the first thing I do is find Billie. Nobody looks at me twice. Maybe it’s my face obscured under my new hat — the one Billie gave me yesterday — or maybe it’s that no one’s expecting to see me looking like I belong.
And when I find Billie, her mouth drops open. “Did you buy all that today?” she asks.
I shrug. “I can’t show up to a cookout looking sloppy.”
“You look good,” she says, and I freeze in surprise. Not only is that the first compliment she’s ever paid me, but I feel certain she means it completely.
We make our way over to one of the picnic benches that some of the townsfolk have set up and take a seat. “Did you do all this this morning?” I ask.
“There was a whole team of us,” she says. “This is the fourteenth year we’ve done this event, so we’re in a pretty good rhythm with it now. The first year we tried it, we just had a few grills, but now we have stuff for the kids. We have a charity raffle. It’s a great time.”
“It looks it,” I say, and I mean that genuinely.
A couple wander over to us and ask if they can take a seat.
Billie looks at me, and I smile at them both. “Sure thing. I’m Jacob,” I say, offering my hand.
“Sage,” says one of them.
“And I’m Louise.”
“Good to meet you,” I say, then squint more closely. “Wait, didn’t I come into your store today?”
Louise nods with a grin. “You sure did, and let me tell you that your fit is looking fire.”
“Thanks… I think.”
Then I notice Sage’s eyes widen behind her sunglasses. “Wait. Like Jacob who wants to steal our island, Jacob?”
Billie shoots me a look as if to say, play nice.
But something about the atmosphere of this whole thing has put me in a great mood, and I would have been nice even without her.
“Yes, that’s me,” I say, throwing up my hands.
“It’s a beautiful place.” I trail off, not wanting to make them any promises about not buying it or saving their homes or anything like that.
I try not to make promises I can’t keep. “What do you two do?” I ask instead.
They tell me more about the shop they run on the beachfront.
Sage makes sculptures and tableware, and they sell what they can.
I find myself acting like I’m in another person’s body, asking questions and being interested in the response.
I learn that Louise has lived here all her life, but Sage moved five years ago.
That they’re getting married next spring. That Billie is invited.
Of course, Billie is invited. I don’t think there’s a single person on this island that Billie doesn’t know.
They don’t ask any questions about me or anything else about me buying the island. But that doesn’t seem to matter. For a change, I’m genuinely interested in their lives. For the first time in years, it’s like a great cloak has dropped from my shoulders, one of paranoia and longing.
Being here in the bright sunshine, chatting to some new friends, I feel alive again.
I feel like I’ve spent years missing out. Maybe I have. Maybe this is the kind of life I could have been living all along.
Billie taps me on the shoulder. “I’m going to sell some more raffle tickets. Do you want one?”
“How much are they?”
“Five dollars each.”
“I’ll take one, but put me down to donate this much.” I lean in and whisper three million in her ear.
She gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. “We can’t take that.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a lot of money!”
“I know. That’s why I’m giving it to you. Do something good with it. I’ll make sure the transfer goes through tonight.”
“Thank you,” she whispers and squeezes my shoulder before darting off.
“She’s the best, isn’t she?” says Louise dreamily. “I’ve known her since we were kids.”
“And she’s always been like this?”
“Oh yeah, she practically unionized the playground at one point when the teachers tried to take chocolate milk away from us.”
I grin. “Tell me more.”
And Louise does, telling me tiny secrets about Billie’s childhood, about their lives here.
They treat me like I’m a normal person, here to spend time with the community.
I know Billie is going to be weird about my donation, but I meant it.
The charity work is something I’ll let them continue even after I move in.
I feel like I owe them that much, at least.
After I move in. It all sounds so certain. I really have my heart set on this place.
I look around at all the people smiling and playing, the kids laughing and squealing with each other. People and their families and friends, all spending this little time together, not worrying about money or life. Just enjoying a beautiful, sunny afternoon together.
“Before I came here, I was so sure I wanted to be a recluse,” I say to Sage and Louise, chuckling,
“The big city getting to you?” asks Sage.
I nod. “Everything is so busy there. Everyone always wants something. I really thought I would come to this island and realize that solitude was the thing I had always been missing.”
“And now?” says Louise, sensing the hidden meaning under my words.
I shrug. “What about now?”
“You said when you came. Suggests you’ve changed your mind.”
“Maybe,” I say quietly. “Maybe I have.”