It seemed like Mallory was the only other person, besides me, in the town of Aloha Lagoon—which I liked to call AL in my mind to avoid confusion with the resort with the same name—who wasn't caught up in the slow pace of Hawaiian living. Not shockingly, she was another corporate transfer from Chicago. We'd both rolled in smack in the middle of the high season, when the previous manager, Phillip Kealoha, had dropped dead, face first in a plate of lomi lomi. His heart attack probably wasn't from stress, given how infuriatingly low key these people were, but it might have been from the fact he'd weighed a startling five hundred pounds.
We were some of the first outsiders that Freemont Hospitality Inc. had sent into Aloha Lagoon. That had probably been a good move on their part, given how little we fit in on the island. It wasn't that we were the only nonnatives on the island, because we certainly weren't. We were just the only ones who hadn't learned to adapt yet to the casual vibe that moved everyone else along the lazy river of least resistance.
Actually, that wasn't completely true. Mallory was starting to learn. The prior week, she'd tried to come to work in shorts and tank tops, instead of her Aloha Lagoon uniform or acceptable office attire. I'd rather drop dead in my lomi lomi than come to a professional situation in shorts.
I followed her across the beach, my heels pitting in the sand. There was probably a good, practical reason these people lived in sandals, but I couldn't bring myself to do that either. I also couldn't find it in myself to wear my blonde hair in any style other than a tight bun, or seek out a tan, or any of the other things my employees did.
The big palm was in the middle of the resort's expansive driveway. It got a lot of attention from the staff and acted as a Christmas tree in lieu of an evergreen. Personally, I had little opinion about the big palm. It was big. And it was a palm. But saying so would have gotten me lynched.
Grateful to step onto the paved driveway, I shook off my shoes and approached the tree. In the small time it had taken Mallory to track me down, I'd gone through my list of Christmas chores, and seven lights were now out. It wasn't such an easy matter to switch them. They were the same lights Aloha Lagoon had been using for something like an absurd forty years.
Sighing, I added a notation to my planner to have the already overburdened handyman, Ikaika, deal with the lights before the tourists started rolling in for the first party of the Christmas season six days before the holiday. Unfortunately, that was a scant—I glanced at my watch—six hours and twenty-six minutes from now. Also unfortunately, much of the staff I really depended on to help run this place were out of town, either for the holidays or for other issues that had happened to coincide with the holiday. So, for us, we were operating with a skeleton staff compared to a normal Christmas rush.
I glanced back up to Mallory. "Thank you, Mallory. Could you send Alex to my office?"
Even asking the question was slightly painful. Alex Cho was both the bane of my existence and the only reason I was able to run Aloha Lagoon at all. He knew it too. That was half the problem. The other half was that the guy delighted in harassing me, and I delighted in looking at him, which was a problem all on its own.
As the Leisure Groups coordinator, Alex technically answered to me, but that was merely a front. We both had master's degrees in hospitality, but he had been working for Aloha Lagoon for ten years. This place was nothing like my previous experiences troubleshooting for hotels and resorts all over the world. Hawaii was a place unlike any other I'd been, and managing this resort was way above my head, because the people who worked here would simply watch me while I spoke, nod a lot, then leave and do whatever they wanted. It was the Hawaiian way, and it made me crazy. The only one who spoke their language, figuratively and sometimes literally, was Alex.
Though Aloha Lagoon was a smoothly run resort with many good employees, Alex had a way with this place. Without him the entire resort would have been in ruins in just the six months since I'd flown in. However, just because I knew it didn't mean I had to like it. Ours was a very precarious relationship. Neither of us spoke of the fact that all I had going for me here was organizational skills. Everything else was on him. He drove me crazy, but there was no getting rid of him. Not unless I was also interested in getting rid of my position at Freemont Hospitality, Aloha Lagoon's parent company.
On my way through the lobby, I paused for a moment, entranced by the shower of white lights the staff was hanging from the ceiling, and then I shuddered. Christmas and I had once been BFFs, but we'd broken things off between us. My reasons were legitimate, but no one would ever hear them. My ruined holly-jolly nuptials were not something I talked about. Instead, I always got the reputation as the local Scrooge. That was better than the truth any day.
I barely made it back to my office before Alex did. Gritting my teeth, I waved at the door, gesturing him inside. Alex always looked like he'd just woken up. I faulted him for not being professional, but at least he wore the look well, and the female guests couldn't get enough. His off-white linen shirt almost tried to look professional, with a collar and buttons, but he ruined it by not buttoning the majority of them. He might have even saved it by just wearing a shirt underneath, but he didn't bother with that either. Tanned skin and sleek muscles were the only thing he had underneath that shirt. He wore white board shorts and tan docksiders, and his black hair was mussed like he'd rolled out of bed and come right here.
I knew it wasn't true. I came to my office at five thirty in the morning, and he was always there at nearly the same time. If I didn't know it, though, I wouldn't have believed it. He flopped onto a chair, folding one leg over the top of his knee and slumping down. I took my seat behind the large cherrywood desk that dwarfed me, as it had been designed for the giant of a man who had preceded me, and getting a new desk would have been a tacit agreement that I was at least a semipermanent fixture.
Alex removed his sunglasses and winked.
"Morning, Charlie."
I flinched, begging my practical side not to rise to the bait. My greatly squelched passionate side always wanted to. Charlotte was a difficult name to shorten. Lottie was childish, Char sounded weird, and Charlie, well, Charlie was repulsive in every way. So I always insisted that everyone refer to me by my entire name. There was no shortening it. Not for most people anyway. Though I'd made it clear that no nickname was acceptable to me, Alex continued to use one. Somehow, without even asking, he'd zoomed in immediately on exactly the one I considered the absolute worst, and he insisted on calling me that. I would have preferred Char.
In the last six months, I'd given up on trying to get him to stop. Now it wasn't giving instructions to an employee. It was just rising to the bait. That was exactly what he wanted, and exactly what I wanted was to deny him any pleasure I could. I might have had to work with him, but I didn't have to enjoy it. Especially when he went out of his way to see that I didn't.
"Doors open at six thirty," I reminded him.
Technically, there were no doors to open, since there was no fence around the resort. And even if there had been, anyone could have walked up from the beach. Every other resort Freemont Hospitality ran had a fence and a gate and a security team stationed in a visible place. Aloha Lagoon had a security team, and normally they were a well-oiled machine. However, currently the head of security, a heavily muscled Hawaii native named Jimmy Toki, was away at some surfing competition. So we had a temporary team in place. It included a partially blind Haitian man named Si, and, occasionally, Detective Ray Kahoalani, or one of his officers, who showed up and pretended to do security checks in return for access to the buffet. We weren't exactly a bastion of safety. No one worried about it though. Except me. I worried about everything at Aloha Lagoon that wasn't by the book.
For a small town, Aloha Lagoon had an oddly high occurrence of crime, mostly during the high season. In my head that could be, partially at least, mitigated by proper security measures. But this town was not interested in the stuff in my head, and the resort only marginally more so. C
orporate had been clear to me that I was to let the resort function as it had always done. I was here only to stop everything from grinding to a halt after Phillip had died and to wait for another assignment. As of yet, that assignment hadn't come, and I had no idea why. I called corporate once a week reminding them that I was trapped in the land of palm trees and dead ambition.
"Gotcha, Boss." Alex's grin was infuriating, only because he did it to mock me. Well, and because the smile was something he wore really well. Well enough that I concentrated on anything but him. He smiled at me to mock me—same way he said the word boss, like it was somehow a joke. To him, it probably was. It was too bad too. Alex had a smile that could easily have been weaponized and used against women the world over. He didn't have dimples so much as interesting creases that formed on each cheek. His teeth were perfect, ridiculously straight and white against his tanned Korean skin.
I slammed open my planner, and focused all of my attention there. "I printed a list of everything that still needs to be checked before guests start to arrive. Talk to the employees and make sure they've got their jobs under control. I'm going to drive into AL and check with the vendors—oh, and visit with the band to make sure they have everything in order and they're ready to take the stage at seven. And speaking of the stage, can you check to make sure it's completely sound? Ikaika is completely swamped, and now the lights are out on the big palm."
Normally, there was a rotating schedule of who got to go out of town when high season or Christmas rolled around. This year, everyone who was gone had a very legitimate reason, and we had a staff that was super overworked. Jimmy was competing, the assistant manager, Rachel, had gone home to New York City for a much-deserved family visit, and Juls, who was a powerhouse herself, had been temporarily transferred to Florida by corporate to take over for the manager of the resort in Palm Springs while she took maternity leave.
"Oh come on, Charlie. You can change the lights. I'll hold the ladder."
Everything was a joke to him. He probably would have found it hilarious if I toppled off the ladder while wrestling with that ancient string of lights. The whole thing looked like it belonged on Snoopy's doghouse. I wasn't risking a limb for that.
"Pass, thanks." I kept my voice even and dared looking up at him. One sharply arched eyebrow, the right, was slightly hitched, the smallest hint of a smile playing on his mouth.
He grabbed the list from my planner, without asking if it was the copy I wanted him to have, and stood. "Consider it done."
For all his faults, that part was actually true. If nothing else, I could trust Alex Cho to get the job done, even if I didn't always like the way he did it.
* * *
The band, Pacific Rim, was a popular local band that played covers when people wanted it, traditional Hawaiian music for the resort, and reggae for themselves. Tonight they would be playing long sets of traditional folk songs interspersed with holiday favorites. Of course, they'd be required by some kind of local ordinance to play Bing Crosby's "Mele Kalikimaka" at least every half an hour. They checked everything off my list with ease, and I headed away from the bandleader's house, satisfied that aspect was in hand.
The next stop was the bakery. The resort had its own kitchens, of course, but occasionally, like at Christmastime, the burden was too much for just us. The entire town would normally gather somewhere to celebrate at the big Christmas Eve luau. Over the years since the resort had been built, the town had slowly elected to move the festivities there. In just a few days every single person in AL would be up at the resort for some holiday fun. That's where the bakery came into play.
The place was run by Ellen and Liam, who were makers of the world's best scones and also had a power in the kitchen that bordered on witchcraft. They assured me all was in hand and that their staff would be headed our way in less than a week. After that, I stopped at almost every restaurant in town, checking off the same. Much of our food was actually provided by locals for this particular event, but even with their help, it was too great a job for any one source.
That done, I climbed back into my car and rolled down the window, enjoying the breeze coming off the water, pulling in the sharp, tangy scent of the ocean mixed with the gentle smell of sun-warmed sand. If I were in Chicago, it would be snowing and bitterly cold. I didn't like to compare, or take any chances that might compromise my ability to leave Hawaii at the first given opportunity, but I had to admit, if I had to do Christmas, getting baked under a tropical sun wasn't a bad option. Especially since I was trying to shake the memories of Chicago's white Christmases. AL was small and quaint. A place that centered around the resort and offered mostly services that catered to tourists who flocked in year round or to the staff who worked and lived at the resort.
Driving its roads was a pleasure too. Little traffic, friendly drivers, and only the occasional wild animal standing on the road—it never felt like a chore to get around AL. It was when I started considering getting a convertible that I rolled up the windows and turned on the air. I had no plans of morphing into one of the locals. Nothing could stand in the way of leaving the moment an opportunity presented itself. I was very determined not to fall in love with anything or anyone in Hawaii. I jabbed the radio button until I found a station not playing holiday songs and headed back to the resort.
The resort was only a few miles out from downtown AL, and it was a short trip back. I remembered, suddenly, that I had no clue if I'd asked Alex to check on the linens. Shoot. These were the little details that made me good at what I did. But if I went to the staff and instructed them in how I wanted the linens done, they'd merely nod a lot, and I'd come in with the guests to find that everything had been arranged in some traditionally Hawaiian manner and not in the Freemont way. Somehow I lacked the ability to say the right words to motivate this staff.
I turned to the phone on my dash and instructed it to call Mallory. It was immediately obedient and put the call through, but in a few rings I was directed to voicemail. I left a detailed message about the linens and sighed. I would not call Alex. Not unless something was on fire. I'd check it myself when I got back.
I called Mallory again from the parking lot, but there was still no answer. Irritated, I went by the main resort building, which housed the kitchen, conference rooms, stores, offices, and check-in desks. It was the epicenter of the resort. The resort was massive, and there were many different areas, places where guests could either join in the fun or feel like they were in a world all their own and sharing their paradise with only those they elected to be with. Aloha Lagoon was, by far, Freemont's largest resort, covering nearly sixteen acres of land. There were multiple restaurants, bars, and stores on-site, and everyone had an option for getting what they needed. In the middle of it all was the main building.
A quick check in the dining room told me that all was well in the land of linens. Alex, clearly. Mouth twisting, I checked off the note in my planner and headed to the offices.
The administration offices were contained in a large warren of small rooms located at the back of the main building. I checked every one of those fifteen rooms for Mallory, but she was nowhere to be seen. The resort was too large, and there would be no way to find her if she was running some kind of check on the outskirts of the property. It was a poor time for her to go exploring though. We were down to a mere two hours before the first guests would begin to pour in for the official holiday kickoff party.
I sighed and snatched up the packet of papers that needed to go back to my office. I had no idea why Mallory had chosen to leave them on the desk in her office instead of returning them to mine, but her lack of responsibility today was really annoying me when this was the second biggest day of the year. I slid the papers into my desk and grabbed up one of the handheld radios that the whole staff carried when we were on-site. I didn't carry one when I went into town, but now I was on the hunt for Mallory and, regrettably, Alex.
I scanned the property as I walked the perimeter of the main building, look
ing for anything out of place. It was sometimes hard to skirt this primary area, since there were buildings attached as well as others a short distance away. Walking around it meant dodging between shops and eateries. Turning on the plastic box in my hand, I flinched at the scratching howl of an angry radio. Pressing the button, I identified myself. There was a procedure for the use of these, but few people followed it. Of course I did. Procedure was my friend.
"This is Charlotte Conner. Silas Accius, please identify."
Eventually, Si's laconic, drawling voice came over the line. He was ancient, nearly blind, and I suspected he was an illegal Haitian immigrant. He'd been here before I'd ever come, and he was likely to be here long after I was gone. "This is Si."
"Could you do a check and tell me if buggy seventeen is missing?"
When I'd arrived, that was a change I had implemented—the following of emergency guidelines. One of them included checking out specific carts for important members of the staff, ensuring they could always be found in the event of an emergency. Most people ignored the rules, but Mallory wouldn't.
There was a long, loud pause while I waited for the call to come back. Finally, Si's voice came through. "No, ma'am. Seventeen is right where it ought."
"Thank you, Si." I turned down the speaker, sure I'd be able to hear it if someone really wanted to talk to me. Where the heck was Mallory?
* * *
The guests started arriving early, as guests were wont to do. If this had been one of my normal resorts, they'd have been kept out by the gate and entertained on the street by performers, redirected to the beach, or offered the option of being driven to the hottest local shows or shopping. There would have been no strange faces wandering around in the main building at fifteen till. Not that there were hot shows or shopping here, but still.
All My Exes Live in Texas Page 21
