Chapter 3 #2
After he parked, he walked toward the ferry.
While it was large enough to hold about eight or ten cars, he could simply use one of the golf carts at Tidewater and leave his rental on this side.
This way, he could sit on the top level of the ferry and enjoy today’s sunshine.
It was already in the mid-sixties this morning.
Considering New York had gotten snow three days ago, Sullivan thought he could get used to living in such a temperate climate.
He chastised himself for the thought, telling himself he needed to get in the mindset of leaving soon.
“Hey, Kylie!” he called, waving at the blond whose family ran the ferry and also did charter boat runs for fishing, diving, and sightseeing.
“My favorite regular,” she said. “Work calling you?”
“As always. Did just finish making a coffee table for Nellie Wagner, though.”
“You made it? That’s really cool. How on earth did you learn how to do that?”
He climbed aboard. “My grandfather taught me when I was young. He died years ago. I hadn’t crafted anything since then. But Neville mentioned he had a shop he monkeys around in, and I asked if I could use it. That’s how Nellie now has a new coffee table.”
“Don’t let Mom or Dad hear you say that. I’m sure they’d want to put you to work.”
“I’ll be leaving the Bay soon. Gotta march forward. New resorts to conquer.”
She laughed. “Danny will push off in five.”
Sullivan took a seat outside. He was joined by two others. The woman wore a navy pantsuit and had a mane of auburn hair. The guy had on a suit and tie and appeared nervous, fidgeting in his seat. He looked vaguely familiar.
“Going to Tidewater to interview?” he asked.
“Yes,” both responded. They looked at one another and then began laughing.
“I’m Sullivan Shepherd. I work for Wagner Enterprises. I designed Tidewater.”
“You do nice work,” the woman said. “I’m Quinn Walker—and hope to be the spa manager for Tidewater.”
“Where do you work now?” he asked as the ferry began to slowly move away from the shore.
“At a resort in the Hill Country.”
“They’ve got some fancy places there.”
She laughed. “Not half as fancy as a Wagner property.”
He looked to the man, who said, “Barry Blaise. Coming from the same spot as Quinn. I’m the tennis pro.”
“The courts were just finished last week. Same with the three pools. Good luck to you both.”
“Any advice on landing a job at Tidewater?” Quinn asked.
“Just be yourself. If you’ve been asked to interview in person, then you’ve got the bona fides to be here.”
“I’ve already been through two interviews on Zoom,” Quinn said.
“I’ve done three,” Barry confirmed.
“Wagner doesn’t bring you in unless they’re serious. Simply tell them why you’re the best candidate for the job. Why you are a better choice than someone else.”
Quinn sighed. “I’ve studied Wagner websites. I probably know more about their spa programs than whoever interviews me does.”
Barry looked sheepish. “I didn’t get online and look at anything. I wanted to be me. I can sell myself.”
Sullivan realized where he knew Barry from. “Men’s doubles, right? I saw you play at Arthur Ashe Stadium once. The US Open.”
Barry nodded. “That was me. I played doubles and mixed doubles.”
“You have a mean backhand. You’re a lefty, aren’t you?”
“Actually, I’m ambidextrous. I can play with either hand equally well, but in competition? I learned back in junior tennis that it was easier to play—and win—if I did so left handed. Not many players face a lefty opponent, so that gave me an advantage coming out of the gate.”
“You medaled at the Olympics, didn’t you?” he asked.
“I did. That was ten years ago. Most people don’t follow doubles competition, though. I was able to leave the tour with two good knees and elbows. Not every player can say that.”
“Why Tidewater?” Sullivan wanted to know, curious.
Barry laughed. “My wife’s from Driftwood Bay.
She’s always wanted to come back and raise our kids in a small town.
Be close to her parents. I thought that would be impossible until I heard about Tidewater being built.
It would be a dream job working for a Wagner resort, plus it would make for happy wife, happy life. ”
“How about you, Quinn? Why Tidewater?”
“Because Wagner resorts are premier places,” she responded. “I would be able to hire the best of the best. Have sleek, modern facilities. Offer superb services. Their reputation speaks for itself.”
“Well, good luck to you both,” he told them. “Bill Lonsdale will be the guy interviewing you. He’ll head up HR at Tidewater.”
Immediately, Quinn whipped out her phone, and Sullivan knew she would know everything the internet knew about Bill by the time she sat for her interview.
They arrived, with Bill actually being at the group of golf carts. He introduced himself to the two job candidates and waved at Sullivan, who went to one of the carts and headed to the construction manager’s trailer. Craig Small was at his desk, sleeves rolled up, a frown on his face.
“What’s up?” Sullivan asked.
Craig launched into a long explanation, which Sullivan interrupted.
“I’m better at seeing. Let’s go.”
They went to the area Craig was concerned about, calling over a few construction workers and talking things through. Sullivan pitched an idea, and both construction workers agreed that it would solve the problem.
“You’re a lifesaver,” the construction manager praised. “It’s good having you on-site, Sullivan.”
“I’ll be wrapping up soon,” he said, feeling wistful as he did so. He would miss Driftwood Bay.
“Let me know when you’re leaving,” Craig said. “I’ll start composing a list of questions that I’ll want answered before you get out of here.”
“Fine with me,” he said, laughing. “And I’m always just a text away once I do leave.”
Sullivan went back to wait for the ferry.
As of now, the city of Driftwood Bay paid the Mayfield family a monthly fee to run the ferry free of charge to its citizens.
With the influx of people at Tidewater, both guests and workers, he knew Wagner Enterprises was in talks regarding transportation to the island.
Whether Wagner chose to pay for an additional ferry and staff to run it or kept the Mayfields employed with an additional ferry was something he would need to ask Zane about.
Maybe he could talk his friend into coming down soon so they could spend some time together before Sullivan took off for New York.
Danny Mayfield greeted him once the ferry pulled up to Tidewater.
“Kylie told me you made Nellie a coffee table.”
It still surprised him how everyone seemed to know everyone’s business in the Bay, especially coming from the family he did.
His mother had been tightlipped about everything, even though she gossiped ferociously, while his dad never spoke of business at home.
Because of that, he really felt as if he didn’t know his parents well—and probably never would.
They had their skewed values and only thought about making more money and impressing as many people as they could, another reason he had been so at home with his grandparents, who valued kindness and hard work.
“Nellie’s wanting end tables to match it,” he said.
Danny laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me.
You have to be careful when it comes to women, Sullivan.
Give them one nice thing, and they’ll want two more.
When Denise and I moved into our house, she thought the interior could use a new coat of paint.
I did that. Then she decided the floors needed to be sanded.
It’s five years later, and she’s still finding projects for me to do. ”
He laughed. “And you love her even more for it.”
Danny shrugged. “I have to. She brings home treats from the bakery for me. I’m a sucker for a sweet.”
Denise Mayfield owned Seaside Sweets Bakery, and Sullivan had become a frequent customer. He craved the black and white cookies and Danish.
“Besides,” Danny continued, “Denise is right all the time. I’m not joking.
She’s got a great eye for things. Probably should’ve been an interior designer if her mom hadn’t left her the bakery.
I think the house is just about perfect now.
Of course, we’ll be moving Amber from the nursery and into her own bedroom once the baby comes in August. If it’s a boy, I can tell you now that we’ll be redoing the nursery.
Maybe we can talk you into making a new bed for Amber. ”
“Maybe,” he said, being noncommittal.
Danny looked at his watch. “Time to push off. Hey, Kylie, ready to roll.”
“Roger that,” his sister called out.
This time, Sullivan had the ferry all to himself. He enjoyed inhaling the sea air and watched a school of dolphins pass, capturing a few shots with his phone.
Once they arrived, he got in his car, ready to head home and put in some more work on the new resort on land Wagner Enterprises was thinking about purchasing.
His phone rang, and he saw it was Layne. He was supposed to have dinner with Keaton and her tonight. One of Layne’s friends had come to town and would be managing the Bay Breeze, and they wanted the two of them to meet.
“Hi, Layne. Dinner still on for tonight?”
“It is, but I need a taste tester now with an honest opinion.”
“Well, I’m your man,” he teased. “What am I sampling?”
“Breakfasts. A lot of breakfasts.”
“What?”
“Just come to the inn. Hopefully, you’ll bring your appetite.”
“I just got off the ferry. I missed lunch, so I’m definitely hungry. I’ll head your way now.”
“Thanks, Sullivan. I appreciate you taking out time to eat and give some constructive feedback.”
“Be there in ten,” he told her, ending the call.
Curiosity filled him.
Why on earth would he need to eat more than one breakfast at two in the afternoon?