“You don’t mind?” She was already breaking it in half. “Here. Have the big piece.”
“Thanks.”
She watched him take a bite. “It’s good, right? I could eat a whole box of these.”
“It’s perfect.” A birthday he’d never forget.
Chapter 17
lovelillibetWho would you bring to your private island? A best friend? A lover? Your pets? Or maybe you prefer solitude?
Shipwreck fantasies can be a great way to re-center your priorities.
Love, Lillibet
Image: A small island appears as a smudge on the horizon surrounded by white-capped waves.
#myownprivateisland #secretretreat #exclusiveaccess
The sun was peeking over the horizon as they pulled into the parking lot, dipping the world in pale lemony light. Operation Evade Hildy’s Uncle (and coincidentally also Libby’s would-be husband) was a go.
Libby led the procession through the trees, followed by Hildy, then Jefferson, and finally Jean. She’d debated whether to wake her best friend after her late shift at the resort, but Keoki was registering for baby gifts with Cici, and Libby worried that without either of them around she would shrink into the awkward and tongue-tied version of herself.
To her relief, Jean had bolted upright as soon as Libby crept into her room with a jumbo travel mug of coffee.
“Today’s the day,” she croaked, rubbing her eyes. “Mark mywords, something big is going to happen. She’s going to offer you the job.”
“She probably hasn’t even read the story yet. It’s been like four hours.”
“Don’t argue with my intuition. I feel it in my bones.”
“You know you’re not actually an old Irish wise woman?”
“I could be. In another life.” Jean grabbed the coffee and took a swig, wincing at the burn.
“Are you sure you’re up for this? You barely slept.”
“You know me. I love the nightlife.”
“You’ve got to boogie,” Libby finished. This was one of Keoki’s greatest hits, though not everyone appreciated the novelty of a disco standard performed as a ukulele dirge.
Fully caffeinated, they escorted their guests along the familiar trail to the beach, donning their reef shoes and checking that everything was safely loaded into the wet bags before starting across to Mo’o Island. It was not a casual stroll. The surface of the water looked like mercury where it was deep enough, but enough of the reef was exposed that you could see the uneven surface. There was barely room to place a foot between the knife-edged ridges and sudden dips. If you didn’t want to slice open your leg or step on something poisonous, you had to move with caution.
Between the hush of early morning and the concentration required to stay upright, they made most of the trip in silence—until they were halfway across, and Hildy burst out laughing.
“You okay?” Jefferson asked.
“I was imagining my uncle doing this. In his loafers. With the little tassels.” The giggles trailed off as she found another foothold. “Although golf shoes might not be a bad idea.”
Jefferson was still standing with his legs braced, staring at the reef below.
“You want your camera?” Libby asked, coming up beside him with the larger of the two waterproof backpacks.
“Not sure my balance is that good.”
“It’ll be easier on the island. There are tide pools.” Did this place fit the bill of “inaccessible to Hildy’s uncle”? Absolutely. But Libby had mostly been thinking of Jefferson. This was his kind of setting, beautiful but rough, with the otherworldly quiet she sensed from his pictures.
There was no one on the island when they arrived. It was just far enough offshore to make people think twice before swimming over, which was for the best. Between the rocks and the riptide, it was a trip better taken at the right time of day, preferably with someone who knew the area. An influx of tourists would also be a concern for the shearwater nesting grounds at the center of the island.
