The Key to Paradise (6 page)

Chapter Eight

Olivia

It took me two weeks and three trips to the library in Big Pine Key to finish my business plan. I knew it was rough and amateurish but it was the best I could manage without any experience. Everyone has to start somewhere I suppose.

Three days before Nana had called a local realtor she knew who drove us out to The Sea Watch to let us tour the property. Ensconced in the huge leather seat of Mr. Roseman’s Buick I watched the roofline appear above the trees with hope in my heart. Things seemed to finally be going my way. We pulled into the broken parking lot and I was shocked to see Landon lounging on the sweeping marble stairs. His eyes were closed and his head thrown back to soak in the sun that traced the strong lines of his profile. I had never seen someone look more perfectly at home in their own skin than Landon Fitzpatrick did at that moment.

“What is he doing here?” I hissed desperately at Nana.

“I invited him. He’s the best on the island and let’s face it, we’re not experienced inspectors or contractors. We need his help.”

“He doesn’t want to help us! He’d rather see this place burned to the ground.”

“After his father drank away the family business Landon Fitzpatrick isn’t really in a position to turn down paying jobs. Even those that conflict with his…ideology.” Mr. Roseman murmured softly in the tones of a seasoned gossip. Was this the secret history that had led to Landon’s misanthropic personality? More than that, if this was a paying gig for Landon that would make me his employer. A mean spirited thrill of power went through my chest. Images of ostrich feather fans and being hand fed grapes danced behind my eyes.

Landon and Mr. Roseman shook hands and Nana gave him a quick hug. I gave him a curt nod while eyeing him warily like a wild animal waiting for a fight. I saw my own guardedness echoed in his soft grey eyes. We hadn’t seen each other since the night he stormed out of Nana’s house. On an island this small it could only mean he had actively been avoiding me.

The plywood boards covering the front doors had been removed. I had expected them to be glass but instead I found myself face to face with beautiful carved wood panels.

“This is teak.” Landon said running his hands over the close grained dark wood. “You’re lucky these haven’t been stolen.” The pads of his fingers traced along the carved pattern of overlapping palm fronds.

“Well, that’s a good sign at least.” Mr. Roseman said smiling brightly. “It’s been so long since this place has been shown that I’m not quite sure what we should expect to find inside. This should be the main lobby through here.” He inserted a heavy old key into the lock and pushed the doors open with the unearthly screech of rusty hinges.

Main lobby was a bit of an understatement. The room was grand. In an instant I could see how it once had been. The wide windowed doors overlooking the seaward patio would have been thrown open to let the ocean breeze flow through. Paddle fans would have turned lazily on the wood paneled ceiling arching high overhead. A few couches and chairs would be arranged around potted tropical plants. Ladies in white gloves would be drinking sweet tea while uniformed bell hops ferried luggage with quiet professional efficiency.

Mr. Roseman and Landon both clicked on small flashlights. The weak beams of light spearing through the darkness startled some birds roosting in the roof and they took wing circling through the empty space before leaving through a broken window with a missing board.

“Is this marble?” Nana asked rubbing the toe of her shoe over the dusty floor.

“No, polished local limestone. No doubt ferried in from some quarry up in the everglades. This is very high quality stone.” I felt smug that even Landon Fitzpatrick was forced to admire my hotel.

We went room by room while Nana and I gushed over the elegant details and planned where to put the restaurant, the bar and the ballroom for weddings of course. Mr. Roseman droned on about square footage and Landon poked and prodded at the plaster and investigated the fuse boxes.

When we stepped back out into the bright sunlight of the tiered patios overlooking the beach I felt confident and satisfied.

“Let’s get down to brass tacks, Irv. How much?” Nana asked turning to Mr. Roseman. My heart sank into my belly. I had never expected the interior to be so spacious or so grand. I had toured the place lost in the fantasy of me owning it but now the talk of money sent me crashing back down to reality. The idea of me being able to buy something like The Sea Watch seemed like a fever dream.

“The owner’s requests are a bit unusual. It is still owned by the widow of the man who built it in the late nineteen forties and ran it until it closed. She lives in Miami Beach and wants to meet with any possible purchaser before naming a price.”

“Why?” Landon’s brows were knit together in confusion.

“Because she wants it reopened. She loved this place and she’s looking for someone to carry on her husband’s legacy.”

I turned to Nana unable to hide my excited smile. If I could meet with this woman and talk to her, I might be able to convince her that I was the best woman for the job. Maybe this all was within my reach. The image of me sweeping through the restored lobby in a designer gown flashed through my mind.

“When can I meet with her?”

“I’ll call her when I get back to the office and set something up.”

Mr. Roseman phoned me the next day to say I had an appointment with Mrs. Bannister, the current owner, the following Wednesday. As the days wore on my anxiousness built until it threatened to overtake me like a wave. There was no way I was going to be able to afford The Sea Watch even if Mrs. Bannister gave me a bargain basement price. I had expected the building to be decrepit, instead it was merely outdated. Landon had grudgingly conceded that there was nothing wrong with the bones of The Sea Watch. Any plumbing, electrical and structural improvements would be minor. That should have sounded like great news but I had been hoping that the building being in terrible condition would be my ultimate bargaining chip to make sure it was affordable.

“I don’t even know why I’m going.” I said as I struggled to tame my curls into a neat bun. Every time I wrangled one strand into place another popped loose.

“You’re going because you’re going to buy it, reopen it and let me hold the lifeguard try-outs.” Nana answered calmly applying another liberal spray of Aqua Net.

“I can’t afford it.”

“Dave Sundersen gave you a great loan.”

It was true, Lily had come through on her promises and managed to strong arm a sizeable small business loan out of the bank. I had seen her out at breakfast the morning of my appointment with a small shrewish old woman with bright red curls and eyebrows that looked like they had been drawn on with a crayon. No doubt the mother of the unfortunate Dave Sundersen. Lily had tipped me a wink and gave me a thumbs up under the table.

I had walked into the meeting feeling like maybe breakfast hadn’t been such a good idea. The short stack of pancakes were threatening to stage a full blown rebellion in my belly. The one thing that made me feel better was that Dave looked even worse than I did. Even though it was only nine thirty in the morning his tie was loose around his neck and his hair was rumpled as if he had repeatedly run his fingers through it.

“Olivia, welcome.” He said rising and shaking my hand. His eyes a kinder blue version of the icy ones I had seen on his mother that morning. I felt a small twinge of guilt when I was signing the papers for the generous loan. I wasn’t used to coercing kind, middle aged men with tattling on them to their mother but it all seemed worth it with the money in my account. Now with my meeting with Mrs. Bannister looming that old familiar nervousness had returned.

“Get your shoes on, we’ve got at least a three hour drive ahead of us.” Nana said ushering me around and gathering her things. She had managed to dig a powder blue polyester suit out of the depths of her closet complete with zippered jacket and matching floral blouse. I tried not to look at it too long so it didn’t sear itself on my retinas. Velcro orthopedic shoes completed the ensemble.

My own suit was the best I could find at the limited selection at Beall’s. I guess ladies’ business wear was not a big seller in Tamarind Key. The vast majority of the selection would have looked perfectly at home on the set of
Working Girl.
I had to settle for the one with the smallest shoulder pads.

“It doesn’t matter what I look like, I’m not going to get it anyway.” I mumbled to my own reflection.

“Stop that loser thinking,” Nana snapped pushing me towards the door. “That’s the problem with you young women, you’re all so hopelessly insecure and worried about what everyone else will think. It makes you dither and doubt yourself. Once you get to my age you’ll realize everyone is so busy worrying about themselves that they hardly have any spare time to worry about judging you.”

“I don’t know if that’s better or worse.” I said feeling less insecure but more invisible.

“It’s better, trust me. There’s nothing more freeing than not giving a good God damn what anyone else thinks.”

She gave me a final push out the side door into the carport where I was surprised to see Verna, Lily, Lois and Ellen standing around Nana’s Buick.

“Are you here to wish us luck?”

“Wish you luck?” Verna gave me a questioning look. “You didn’t think you were going to Miami Beach without us, did you?”

I actually had. How stupid of me.

I squeezed into the middle of the wide bench back seat hoping I wouldn’t be too rumpled from the long drive. Ellen and Lois took the seat on either side while Nana, Verna and Lily piled into the front.

“We should go to Prime 112 for dinner.” Ellen chirped beside me. “I hear David Beckham and those basketball players always go there. I wouldn’t mind meeting David Beckham.”

It was going to be a long ride. A two hour conversation followed weighing the various benefits of soccer players’ legs versus basketball players’ height. If I had been seated next to a window I would have stuck my head outside and begged Nana to roll it up and end it all. But by the time we made it through Homestead I realized that the spirited debate on who was hotter: Lebron James or Dwayne Wade, had taken my mind off of the upcoming meeting. Now it all came crashing over me again like an ice cold wave.

“Do you know the area where she lives?” I asked Nana.

“Oh yeah, we come up here regularly to hit the casinos. I know Dade and Broward counties like the back of my hand.”

“What’s it like?”

“Very ritzy. Right on the beach. She must have some serious money.”

“That’s good news, honey.” Lois said patting my leg. “If she has so much money she won’t need much of yours.” I struggled to swallow the hard lump growing in my throat.

As Nana eased the boat like Buick through the crowded streets, the bodegas and strip malls gave way to stores I had only read about in magazines. Fendi, Bulgari and Versace replaced empanada stands. High above them towered condos that seemed to stretch to the sky. I was feeling distinctly out of my element but I tried to remember Nana’s words. Sure, I could sell two kidneys and a liver and still not be able to afford a place in this building but that didn’t mean I was any less than Mrs. Bannister.

Nana valet parked the Buick giving the driver strict instructions on how to bang on the side of the steering column to get it out of park. I could feel my cheeks burning hot.

“I saw a little Cuban restaurant down the street. Do you want to go grab some drinks and I’ll meet you there when I’m done?”
Please, please, please.

“Don’t be ridiculous, dear. We’re going with you.” Verna said clutching her vinyl purse to her chest and beaming from ear to ear.

“You need the moral support.” Lois said blinking at me through her thick glasses.

Crap.

I knew there was no way I could talk them out of it and if I waited any longer I was going to be late. I had known more than a few upper crust WASPs in Boston and I knew making them wait was a strict no-no.

I gave the uniformed doorman a wavering smile and made my way into the lobby. It was at least two stories high and swathed entirely in marble. A small fountain stood in the center hinting at quiet luxury, discrete good taste and old money. A bank of mahogany elevators stood to one side and a large lobby desk dominated the room.

“Hello,” I said noting the professionally applied makeup and flawlessly tailored suit on the young woman working the desk. She nodded at me coolly taking in my cheap suit and hand me down pearls with one sweeping glance. “My name is Olivia Campbell. I have an appointment with Mrs. Bannister in 2301.” The woman’s eyes did another course over me, flicking briefly to my elderly ensemble.