A rooster crows from somewhere behind the kitchen, and Spam darts by with ten of his cohorts and gives a quick yowl as if the wildlife on the island is offering its official approval.
“What about me?” Melanie asks in horror, her voice growing feral. “I can’t be jobless and without a parachute! I still get my severance package, right?”
“Nope.” Dane doesn’t even hesitate, though he does smile while delivering the news. “But I hear there’s about to be an opening for a barista around here.”
Ruby claps her hands together with delight. “Would you look at that?” She slaps her thighs and howls at the cosmic justice in action before looking Melanie square in the face. “One door closed, and another door opened. If I were you, I’d follow the scent of the hot java.”
Lani nods. “It beats the heck out of following hot lava to the unemployment line.”
Melanie gasps again, having turned gasping into her primary form of communication.
Dane shrugs in my direction. “It’s up to you if you want to hire her. Your call entirely.” He checks his watch as if he has actual business to attend to. “I’ve got to run. I’ve got a sunset cruise to manage—that’s where the real money lies. Until now, apparently.” He gives me an approving nod. “You’ll be hearing from me soon. Monthly check-ins, quarterly reviews, that sort of thing. Treat this place like you own it, because in all the ways that matter, you do. I trust you completely.”
He starts to leave, then stops and turns back. “Oh, and Jinx? That construction crew of yours? Give them whatever they want. Best investment I never knew I was making.”
With that, he strides off toward the beach like he just solved all the world’s problems, and he looked good doing it.
Melanie pouts in my direction as if her evil plans have just been derailed by competent management.
“Okay, fine,” I tell her, trying not to smile. “You can pour coffee around here. But I want a top-notch job done. Do you know anything about craft coffee? Espresso extraction times? Milk steaming temperatures? The difference between a flat white and a cortado?”
“I... what?” She blinks my way.
“Being a barista is serious business, Melanie,” I continue. “We’re talking about people’s caffeine delivery systems. Their morning salvation. The difference between a good day and a day when they contemplate arson—I should know. This is abigger responsibility than running the entire resort, because without proper coffee, nothing else matters.”
It’s true. Mostly. Okay, it’s completely and utterly true. It may as well be gospel.
“I’ll take it.” Melanie’s face goes through several interesting color changes—red to purple, then to something approaching volcanic.
“Chi-chis for everyone!” Lani shouts, deciding this moment calls for celebration rather than the continued psychological torture of our former manager, though I’m sure we’ll get back to that later.
The small crowd cheers, and someone produces a bottle of rum from what I can only assume is the secret stash every tropical resort maintains for emergencies. Just as the impromptu party gets started, Koa and his brothers walk through the lobby doors, tools in hand, looking like they’ve put in another day of making miracles happen and also looking unfairly attractive covered in sawdust.
“What’s going on?” Koa asks, surveying the celebration and looking rather suspicious of all the joy in his presence.
“Jinx got promoted to manager!” Ruby announces as if sharing the best gossip of the year—and she might be. “And Melanie got demoted to coffee duty!”
“And Dane turned out to be the mysterious owner!” Lani adds.
“And we’re not closing!” someone else shouts. Okay, so that was me.
Loco and Shaka immediately break into grins and start high-fiving everyone within reach, because let’s face it, they’ve just achieved some serious job security. And Koa, being Koa,maintains his carefully neutral expression, though I swear I catch the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“I’m going to give you all the biggest and best reviews the island has ever seen,” I tell the brothers. “I’m going to spread the word that Hale Brothers Construction is second to none. You’ll have more work than you know what to do with.”
“Hear that, bro?” Shaka elbows Koa. “We’re about to be famous!”
“We should keep the luau going!” Lani declares as the celebration continues. “Make it a weekly feature! Bring in tourists, locals, anyone who wants good food and terrible hula dancing!”
“Yes,” I agree, “but I’m firing the hula girls for their own safety. And the safety of others.”
“Actually,” Loco says. “My girlfriend teaches hula. Real hula, not whatever you three were attempting. She’s got students who could put on a proper show once a week. If you’re interested.”
“Interested? I’m ready to build them their own stage.”
More reasons to celebrate emerge as Lani and others quickly pass out chi-chis and someone locates what appears to be the resort’s emergency ukulele collection. The lobby fills with the sound of actual happiness, something that’s been in short supply around here for longer than anyone cares to remember.
Koa catches my eye and nods toward the veranda, and my heart does a little flip that has nothing to do with the chi-chi I haven’t even touched yet. I follow him outside, where the remnants of the sun paint everything in shades of gold and possibility.
