“I had Chris, the accountant, help me crunch some numbers and make some projections, and he’s confident that we can introduce this in a rolling introduction in London around the middle of next year, and then in Costa Rica the year after that. And that’s based on previous tax records for the resort and doesn’t include any sudden revenue bumps.” Tom starts to ramble a little in his excitement.
“Okay, aye- aye, send me the details, and Baron and I will look at it. I don’t want to add anything more to our plate than what’s on it. The resort needs updated amenities and some renovations to a few satellite buildings, and we need to focus on that first,” I pause, smiling at the memory of Baron determinately making his case to rebuild the stairs leading down to the beach. “I cannae promise we’ll get to it soon, but we will get to it eventually, Tom. If you can, you should even wait off and see if Chris the Accountant is right.”
I hold my breath as I scan the screenshot I’m sent. “So, you’ll change the colors and all that, right? And I know I mentioned in the email that I thought it was a little blocky and could be. . . sleeker, or something?”
“Yeah, you did, and it’s being incorporated. You wanted this website from scratch, and these kinda things aren’t something you can make progress checks on until all the code is finished,” The IT guy pauses briefly as I bite back a groan. “Tom told me about what happened with his boss and those construction guys. Basically threatened me not to get him fired the same way! I wouldn’t have asked my friend if I wasn’t confident in his abilities.”
“I’ve just never had to get a website built. If I knew that this is how it’s done, I wouldn’t have been so picky about it,” I grumble as light laughter filters through the phone speaker. My email pings, and I mouse over the notification to suck in a sharp breath. “Alright, well, don’t disappoint me, I guess? I’ve got other things to do, so I’ll leave you to it. Oh, and Tom, make sure to have Jennifer send me the monthly reports?”
“Will do.” Tom answers before I hang up swiftly and click on the email. The wedding photographer. Excitement trills in my veins, singing a song as blood drums in my ears. We’d hired an expensive photographer to photograph several events over several days, my wedding included. The new pictures for the resort website had been done for a week, and I’d been dying of anxiousness for my wedding pictures.
“Let’s see.” I mumble hotly, clicking on the attachment. My breath hitches in my throat at the beautiful picture presentation. This is our wedding album, and I lean close to the monitor. I move to the next slide and gasp. It’s a gorgeous shot of Baron and I walking down the aisle as man and wife. Tears sting my eyes.
Each photo is perfect beyond the photographer’s watermark, and I take my time going through them. It’s one thing to be part of a wedding, but it’s another thing entirely to see it like this. My heart aches, and I rub my bump absently in pure pleasure.
“Oh.” I gasp as I come up on a picture of Bran and I, and above in elegant script are the words ‘Brother Sister Dance’. My chin wobbles dangerously. He’s crying into my hair, but the smile on his face is brilliant.
“Love, did you ask Tom about contacting WW Construction?” Glancing up, I sniffle harshly and wipe my face as Baron wanders into my office. Alarm colors his face and brightens his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, the wedding photos,” I point at my computer monitor as understanding glistens in Baron’s gaze. Rounding my desk, he braces a hand on the smooth glass and hums gutturally. “They’re previews, but it’s all in the package. This is the wedding book.”
“Sometimes. . . I forget exactly how much you two have been through together, Delaney,” Baron murmurs tenderly, kissing my temple. “It’s a gorgeous picture. It shows a lot, huh.”
“Ah,” I breathe hotly. “We’ll go through it properly, but I was just getting off the phone with Tom and the IT guy back in London. . . and no, I forgot to ask about the construction company.”
My sheepish admittance earns me a playful glower, and I shrug. Baron leans back, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Come on. It’s lunch time. I called ahead at the Marooned Mariner.”
“Already?” I ask, and Baron nods before I lock my computer and stand up. “How’d it go on the phone with the architect?”
“She’ll be flying out tomorrow morning. There’s no reason to wait on bringing her in. Tom said negotiation with WW Construction was going well, and the foreman that worked on the hotel in London was more than willing to come to Costa Rica for us again. I’d prefer that. I also think of it like a way to say ‘thank you’ for that disaster,” Baron says as we leave my office, and I nod firmly. He wraps his arm around me, and my stomach grumbles in anticipation. “What about you, love? How’s progress on the website?”
“It’s coming,” I say vaguely, and Baron makes a face. “Tom trusts this guy, and he trusts his friend. It’s not going to end up like last time with Granby, I’m sure. Aye? I’m quite confident, and I remember you mentioning your own doubts about Granby’s offer, Baron.”
“Right, right,” He waves his hand and nods. “Maybe, I’m just jaded. Then again, it’s a website. It probably doesn’t require a whole lot of physical labor, and the deposit was much cheaper.”
Walking the grounds of the resort tugs at my heart strings in a different way than the hotel in London. There’s patrons milling around everywhere; the place has good business, but it can be better. Much of the clientele are wilderness types that hike the mountains or are backpacking their way south or north. Plenty of self-proclaimed ‘influencers’. This resort isn’t Disneyland, though. Coming here only appeals to a certain kind of person.
“Maybe, we should introduce a grown-up camping type thing?” I propose, and Baron looks over at me curiously. “We have half the mountain and a few fields. There’s more than enough space to set up something you can do tipsy. Right? There can be obstacle courses and things like that? To attract the broader traveler.”
“Yeah, that’s possible. You know, if we’re bringing the whole construction crew down, we might as well make their free stay worth it.” Baron agrees, and I giggle and nod. Yes, this is a good idea! I can see it now!
The Marooned Mariner is a theme restaurant, and Baron and I follow the hostess to the large balcony. Situated close to a steep but low cliff face, the balcony seating offers the best view of the ocean side of the resort. I sigh happily as Baron pulls out my chair for me before sitting across from me.
“Here,” Baron steals my attention, holding out a pair of binoculars for me. Interest lifts my brows, and I snatch them as he chuckles knowingly. “I thought so.”
Sweeping my hair back, I hold the binoculars to my eyes to scan the horizon. There’s so many colors in the forest stretching between the resort and the crystal clear, blue ocean beyond. Propping my elbow on the table, I inch slowly across the landscape.
“Every time I look outside, I,” My declaration dries on my tongue as I see something that doesn’t belong in such a beautiful place. If memory serves, there’s a few buildings out that way? From this spot to the ocean is barely a quarter mile, and I pull the binoculars from my eyes before holding them up again. “What’s that down there?”
“It says. . . ‘wel- welcome home’?” I look over at Baron curiously and hold out the binoculars. Amusement tilts his lips as he takes it. “Who lives down there? Isn’t that on the resort property? Actually, that’s pretty close to where we had the cabana that day we learned we’d won the bid for this place.”
“It is, you’re right. I wonder who lives down there?” Baron asks, throwing my question back at me, and I frown under tightly knit brows. My face heats at his teasing. Smirking at me, he doesn’t protest when I snatch the binoculars from him to look through.
“They better not be squatters or something. Over there’s on the edge of the electrical grid, and I won’t hesitate to shut it off on them, damnit.” Baron laughs at my grumble.
“I don’t think you’d want to do that to your own home, Delaney.” Baron replies, and I grunt lowly in acknowledgment.
“Why not?” Looking over at him, I blink as the connection finally sparks in my brain. My jaw drops, and I throw the binoculars at him with a gasp. “You didn’t!”
