by Alan L. Moss
Turning to the biographies of the two Samoans nominated by the Governor, Michael reviewed their backgrounds.
Faumuina Toluono was the local business representative. He owned and operated a diner in Pago Pago. Based upon Michael’s experience with restaurants and the minimum wage, he assumed this nominee also would be a lost cause.
Eni Sagapolutele was the Governor’s nominee to represent the Samoan public. He worked as a customs official in Pago Pago and participated in local politics. An unknown, Eni remained Michael’s hope to join with the Chairman and the labor representative to vote for a significant minimum wage increase.
These were the people he and his Samoa Economic Report had to convince. With the time at three-thirty, Michael closed his file on the Committee members and rolled over to get some rest.
***
Without warning, a loud, sarcastic voice roused Michael from a deep sleep.
“I’ve heard of going native, but this is ridiculous. What happened to the personal reception I was promised? And by the way, you might be interested to know you’ve lost our Chairman to the Rainbow Hotel.”
Michael opened his eyes and sat up. He looked at his watch. It was five-fifty. Standing over him was Claire Williams, the six-foot-tall government attorney he loved to hate. She was wearing plaid Bermuda shorts and a wrinkled white blouse. Her disheveled blond hair testified to the length and difficulty of the trek from Honolulu to Samoa.
“You must be fun to wake up to,” Michael countered. “What do you mean I’ve lost our Chairman?”
Michael struggled to stand up. Claire sat down at the picnic table as if it were her desk and Michael was in her office.
“Well, let’s see. Paul Pecura, our Chairman, was met at the airport by one of the Governor’s top aides, a fellow named Matautu. Pecura is staying at the Rainbow and eating with the Governor’s staffer tonight. Tomorrow, he’s flying to Western Samoa to meet his relatives. He said he’d return for your dinner tomorrow night.”
“What about James Redferd, the labor representa-tive?” Michael asked, feeling an oncoming headache.
“He’s traveling with his wife and she’s not feeling well. The two of them — a nice couple by the way — moved into one of the suites on the first floor. I’m moving into the other first-floor suite, which has a terrace overlooking the Pacific. Redferd said they’d stay in tonight.”
Maintaining her superiority, Claire issued her first order.
“So, my sleepy friend, that leaves you and me, and given your absence at the airport, I expect to be shown a good time tonight.”
***
Although he was disappointed his plans had fallen through, Michael admitted to himself that he had been unrealistic. It seemed natural that if you ship people far from home and place them in a strange setting, they would want to enjoy themselves in their own way prior to a week of difficult hearings.
If the Committee appointments had been made earlier, Michael could have briefed the members more fully, but, given the last-minute invitations from an administration obsessed with keeping its options open, he was lucky they all showed up.
Michael took Claire to dinner at Larry’s and escorted her to the Tai Hotel for drinks by the ocean. He noted with some surprise that Claire could be a pleasant companion when the discussions weren’t work related.
After a couple of drinks, she revealed that this trip was part of her farewell tour. Discouraged by the growing role of politics in legal policy decisions, she planned to retire in August. She and her husband wanted to move to Savannah, where Claire could pursue a degree in Elizabethan literature while her husband opened a small bookstore.
Still worn out from his night with Stephanie and then from playing tour guide to Claire, Michael slept until eleven-thirty Saturday morning. After all the guests had breakfast on the deck, they decided to take Georgia up on her offer to lead a hike to Larson’s Cove.
By three-thirty, the group appeared visibly tired and Georgia said she had to return to supervise dinner preparations. Hiking back up the trail wore them out further and they expressed much relief at reaching their Jeep. Twenty minutes later they were back at the Lodge. After thanking Georgia, they returned to their rooms, anxious to rest up for dinner.
***
It had been one week since Michael said goodbye to Karen in Ellicott City. They hadn’t talked since. His failed attempt to reach her Wednesday night was still with him. Why hadn’t she called him? He provided her with his complete itinerary, dates, names, hotel, and telephone numbers. How could he see Stephanie later that night not knowing what was in Karen’s heart?
It was eleven forty-five in Maryland and Michael decided to call Karen again and end the suspense. Sitting on the bed, he placed the call, the phone rang, and Karen picked up.
“It’s about time you called. I was beginning to think the Samoans weren’t as friendly as you portrayed them,” she blurted out.
“Hi, honey,” automatically left Michael’s mouth. “I tried to reach you on Wednesday night but I got no answer.”
“That was the night of my adventure with your dog,” she said.
Whenever Cinnamon got into mischief, Karen called her his dog.
“The telephone rang when Cinnamon and I were in the family room watching an old movie,” she explained. “Cinnamon had been such an imp earlier that I put her in the powder room to make sure she wouldn’t get into anything while I was on the phone.
“As soon as I closed the door, she jumped up and pushed in the button that locked the door. I got a hanger from the closet, bent it, and tried to push the button out through that little hole in the doorknob. That didn’t work so I went for the phone, but you hung up and didn’t leave a message. I thought it must have been a wrong number.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Well, I would have but Cinnamon ate your itinerary not twenty minutes after you left for the airport.”
“How did you get Cinnamon out of the powder room?”
“Well, I would have called Steve next door but it was too late. I went into the garage and got a screwdriver and hammer from your workbench and slowly but surely removed the door hinges. I pulled the door off and that damn dog of yours thanked me by grabbing the screwdriver and running all over the house with it until I bribed her with a doggie treat and she gave it up.”
“Sounds like you’re having quite a time,” Michael joked.
Beginning again, Karen spoke in a more serious tone.
“Honey, I wanted to let you know how sorry I am that you had to leave on such a sour note. Between this job of mine, planning Lisa’s wedding, and now having you gone for two weeks, I guess I’m at my wits’ end, but you have to know I will always love you. I know I’m moody and not so easy to live with. I’ll make it up to you as soon as we retire and can focus on us again.”
Before Michael could respond, Karen continued.
“So, how’s the work coming? Are you going to get the Samoans the increased wages they deserve?”
Michael forced himself to hold up his end of their conversation while feeling increased guilt.
“It’s too early to tell. I’ve recruited at least one local interested party, a new teacher’s federation, to speak for the workers. Unfortunately, our Chairman bailed out of his reservation at our hotel and is staying in town. That limits my access to him until the hearings convene.
“You should feel very proud of yourself,” Karen said. “From what you’ve told me, everyone knows the deck is stacked against you. Just do your best and don’t let them get to you. The Samoans must know you’re trying to get the Committee to do the right thing, but in the end, it’s the Committee who has the responsibility to set the rates, not you.”
“Thanks, Sweets, I’ll remember.”
Michael repeated his itinerary for Karen. She copied it down and promised to place it in the kitchen junk drawer, out of Cinnamon’s reach. Then, they said their goodbyes and Michael promised to call again during the week.
C
HAPTER 37
SOPHIA’S
June 5, 2001
Vaitogi Village, American Samoa
Ed and Georgia Reed transformed their main house into a festive banquet facility. Members of the Special Industry Committee and its staff enjoyed Parrot and Porpoise hospitality. They mulled around the living and dining areas and sat on the rear patio while two young Fijians served drinks and hors d’oeuvres.
Michael approached each guest individually, thanking them for their willingness to serve. He happened upon the Samoan members first. They were still in the foyer, admiring a painting of the Flower Pot Rocks.
“Good evening, I’m Michael Bloom and I want to thank you both for agreeing to serve on the Committee.”
Michael reached out and shook each of their hands.
“Hello, I am Eni,” the taller Samoan said, a slender man of middle age with pure white hair, “and my friend here is Faumuina.”
Fau was also middle-aged but short, stocky, and balding.
“You will be glad to know, Dr. Bloom, we were pleased with the honesty of your report,” Eni said.
“Perhaps this will be the year when wages begin to rise,” Fau chimed in.
Surprised and pleased, Michael moved on, thanking them again and saying he would see them later.
Paul Pecura, the Committee Chairman, seemed a bit of an enigma. His husky build, large dark eyes, and olive skin were consistent with his Italian – Samoan lineage. Michael spotted him speaking with Ed Reed. Ed was a large, distinguished-looking man who spoke with sensitivity and confidence.
As Michael approached them, Ed spoke first.
“You must be Dr. Bloom. As I’m sure Georgia told you, we are grateful you’ve chosen our lodge for your Committee.”
“Well, we are fortunate that your accommodations were available. This spot is beautiful and you have a terrific home.”
Now, looking at Pecura, Michael introduced himself.
“I’ll bet you’re our new Committee Chairman. Welcome. I’m glad to finally meet you.”
“You’d win that bet, Dr. Bloom, and it’s a pleasure to meet you. I think we’re going to have a lively time.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Michael said.
They shook hands and Michael turned toward the bar on the rear patio. He wondered to what extent Pecura’s time with the Governor’s aide had influenced his views. Before he reached the bar, Bill Echaveste intervened.
“Dr. Bloom, I didn’t want to get into it the other night, but you should know, based on my first-hand experience, much of your Samoa Economic Report is a misrepresentation of the truth. Your report could greatly damage the Samoan people.”
Michael kept his cool.
“Well, Bill, that report was issued more than two months ago and no one, including you, wrote or called to point out data or positions that are incorrect. However, we look forward to entertaining your specific views at the hearings.”
Echaveste retreated to the patio, beating Michael to the drink line.
Ten minutes later Georgia struck a glass with a silver knife.
“We’re ready for dinner. If you would enter the dining area and take a seat, Ed will lead us in prayer.”
The group made its way into the dining area and worked out the seating arrangements. Then, Ed delivered his grace.
“Thank you, God, for the bounty we are about to eat. Please grant the Committee members the insight to understand the American Samoan economy and people. Provide them with the wisdom to make the right decisions. Amen.”
***
As the night progressed, Michael was amazed at how well the Committee members and staff got along. The dinner was a terrific icebreaker. Michael was sure their time together would pay dividends during the hearings.
After dinner they retired to Michael’s deck. Full with food and drink, they let Michael take the lead as he ran through the schedule for the hearings. The briefing took thirty minutes, after which some in the group stayed and discussed topics ranging from the Territory’s taxes to Washington politics.
By nine-thirty Michael’s guests left for their temporary quarters. The main house was quiet and Michael walked to his rental car and headed to town. As he passed the entrance to the golf course and Agelu Lodge, he looked up the dirt road leading to both facilities and thought he saw the taillights of George Partain’s Jeep.
Michael began to think through what he would say during his awkward rendezvous with Stephanie. While he felt guilty, he also believed the blame was not all his. Karen sent him off to Samoa with the impression that she planned to leave him and Stephanie took advantage of his reaction to Ava.
Without question, he violated his marriage vows. On the other hand, he wondered how many men, waking from a dead sleep and finding a beautiful, nude woman in bed, could have resisted. It might have been wrong but not many courts of opinion would convict him.
Being with Stephanie in that hotel room isolated him from the outside world and the unrelenting pressure his commitments created. Now, he had to face the real world. It was time to end it and get on with the reason he was in Samoa.
Michael wasn’t sure what Stephanie wanted from him. Was she a concerned mother scheming to marry him, get off the Island, and improve the lives of her children, or was she a fun-loving beauty after a good time with one of the personalities from the hearings? The proceedings would be front page news in the Samoa Press for at least a week.
In any case, given Karen’s profession of everlasting love, he couldn’t get serious with Stephanie. On the other hand, Stephanie’s passion to pursue him was an aphrodisiac he couldn’t ignore.
***
Sophia’s Barefoot Bar was located just off Route No. 1 in Alego Village. Michael parked on a narrow shoulder just past the stone steps that led to the bar and restaurant.
Sophia’s was on the side of a hill leading to one of Samoa’s most picturesque beaches. The restaurant consisted of a complex of terraces, walkways, poles, and thatched roofs covering comfortable tables. Up the hill was the establishment’s bar, tended by The Godfather, Sophia’s New Zealander husband. Down the hill were numerous dinner tables, each with an incredible view of the beach and Pacific.
Michael saw a lone figure at the bar. Quietly, he approached from behind. Stephanie was sipping a tall drink. He moved closer and whispered in her ear.
“Hey, lady, mind if I join you?”
Stephanie spun around slowly and reached her hand behind Michael’s neck. Pulling him close, her lips met his and her tongue thrust into his mouth.
“Is that what you had in mind, sailor?”
More than a little flustered, Michael smiled and responded whimsically.
“Not exactly, but that will more than do.”
“Anyway, I wasn’t sure you could make it. How did your dinner go?”
“It went well. What’s that you’re drinking?”
Stephanie held up her glass as if to toast.
“This is the world’s best pina colada. The Godfather makes them with fresh coconut cream and local pineapples.”
Stephanie signaled to the tall New Zealander who was standing a few feet away looking out at the ocean. He was wearing white shorts and a Hawaiian shirt adorned with brightly colored flowers.
“This is my friend, Michael Bloom. Could you mix him a pina colada and bring it to our table?”
“Sure, mate,” answered the barman, “and it’s nice to meet any friend of Stephanie’s.”
Stephanie rose from her stool and led Michael to the water’s edge. Their table was closest to the ocean. The two sat down, positioning their chairs side-by-side so they both looked directly into the Pacific.
“That large boulder on your left is Faalogologotolo Rock, the formation out in the distance is Tifo Point, and that romantic light in the sky is the full moon rising,” Stephanie said, laughing.
“Thanks for the geography lesson. Are there any other structures I should know about?”
Before Stephanie could answer, a tall Samo
an lady with a beautiful face and wild red hair piled up on her head approached with Michael’s drink.
“Welcome to Sophia’s Barefoot Bar,” she said dramatically. “I hope you will enjoy your stay in Samoa. I am Sophia.”
Michael stood and held out his right hand.
“Hello, Sophia, I’m Michael Bloom. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I assume you know my friend, Stephanie.”
Sophia placed his drink on the table, held his hand, and kissed him on the cheek.
“Everyone on Samoa loves Stephanie. Stephanie is our role model.”
“Well,” Michael said, “then I need to compliment you, not only on your fine establishment, but also for your exceptional taste.”
Still holding his hand, Sophia continued.
“I understand you have already eaten dinner, but I will have snacks brought to the table to accompany your drinks.”
She kissed his cheek again and walked away toward the bar.
***
Michael and Stephanie sat at their table, lit by a lantern set squarely in the middle. They downed pina coladas and munched on tasty snacks Michael couldn’t identify. They didn’t talk of love or the future. Instead, they touched under the table, they teased, and they traded stories that didn’t involve those whom they loved or used to love.
Michael thought of breaking it off. Of telling her the other night was wonderful, she was wonderful, but he loved his wife and they mustn’t go further.
Somehow, though, he couldn’t do it. The trust in Stephanie’s eyes, the ease of their conversation, and the promise of her touch diverted his better intentions and kept him off balance.
By one o’clock all the other customers left and Stephanie suggested they stroll along the beach.
“This is a barefoot bar, so I guess we should leave our sandals behind,” she said.
As they walked along the shore holding hands Stephanie led them closer and closer to the water. Before long, they waded into the cool ocean. Stephanie unraveled her navy blue lavalava and tossed it onto the beach. Michael, staring at her dark, hard nipples, couldn’t resist and removed his shorts and shirt, throwing them onto the sand.
