Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
The three of us spend the last forty minutes of sunlight walking the rest of the perimeter, Kate furiously making notes, before we find ourselves in front again, our luggage untouched. “It’s almost dark. We better check into the hotel.”
Kate sighs like she’s reluctant but retrieves her things from beside the derelict ice maker. “I guess so. My thorough site investigation will have to wait until tomorrow. The place will still be here.”
“So will the disaster,” Marcus mutters.
She whirls to him, hand on her hip. “By the time I’m done, I’m going to make you love what this place could be.”
He snorts. “Good luck with that.”
“I don’t need it. I have skill. That’s why I was hired.”
After her sassy proclamation, she slings her purse over her shoulder, grips her bag, and heads for the hotel next door. As we drove by earlier, it looked like a half-forgotten relic. The once-white building has yellowed. Besides being run-down, it’s plagued by an ugly satellite tower on the roof, an uninspiring rectangle of a swimming pool visible from the main road, and no hint of water sports along its unpredictable, lava-like shore.
Inside, the lobby looks like someone vomited beige—walls, furniture, and tile floors. The windows out back offer admittedly nice glimpses of swaying palms, but the hotel erected too many walls between the entry and the view. And they haven’t updated this dump in nearly two decades. It shows.
As we amble into the line at the front desk to wait for the lone clerk, I lean into Kate. “The island is beautiful, but if this area doesn’t have the influx of visitors to flourish, would we be wasting money trying to rebuild this?”
“Exactly what I was wondering, but the question in my head wasn’t phrased quite as politely,” Marcus drawls. “No amount of island beauty will make me rush to a dumpster fire of a hotel.”
“That’s why we create something better. A destination. An oasis for everyone needing to get away, who wants to be closer to nature, who’s dying to slow down and appreciate life. Of course there would be activities for active vacationers, too. Hiking, parasailing, surfing…”
“I don’t see it.” Marcus is blunt.
“There’s a lot of that in Hawaii already. How are we going to be different enough?” I question.
While the desk clerk finishes with the family in front of us, Kate scrambles into her bag and flips to a page in her notebook. “I think this is a place to start. We build from here.”
The drawing she holds up is stunning. A long, tree-lined drive solves the problem of our odd-shaped property, transforming it into a grand entrance, while making use of the peninsula we’re situated on. On one side leading up to the structure are park-like areas, like a yoga lawn and a tea garden. On the other, shopping and restaurants, a children’s playground, and a meeting area for business retreats. The main structure is a pentagon and gives every room on three sides a view of either the gorgeous grounds or the sweeping ocean views. The style is traditional and will stand the test of time, but I note an Asian flare in the slope of the roof and the ornateness of the door.
“That’s beautiful. You just sketched that?”
“As I walked the property. I saw the place, and this just…popped into my head.” She shrugs, then flips to another page full of neat rows of words. “But I made notes, too.”
Marcus nudges her to turn back. “Popped into your head? Just like that?”
“My dad calls me a property whisperer. According to him, I have a sense of how best to develop land for maximum value.”
Looking at her off-the-cuff drawings, I believe that.
Finally, the family in front of us hoists up their luggage and heads to the elevator. Then it’s our turn. Kate grabs a key to a room on the second floor of the resort. When Marcus steps up to the counter, it’s a different story.
The desk clerk frowns. “I’m afraid I don’t have your reservation in our system, Mr. Hunt.”
What the hell?
My best friend looks as annoyed as I feel. “Can you get me another room?”
“With the amateur surfing competition underway, we’re completely booked. I’m sorry. I can see about finding you a room elsewhere, but I don’t know how much luck we’ll have—at least until the competition is over on Sunday.”
“Do you have my reservation?” I give him the number and a copy of my confirmation.
After a few taps on the computer, the desk clerk smiles. “I do. Your suite is ready.”
“You can bunk with me,” I tell my best friend. “My room has two queen beds.”
“It does,” the desk clerk adds. “Along with a kitchenette and a private lanai with unobstructed Pacific views.”
“Do I have a choice?” Marcus grouses.
“Again, I’m very sorry,” the thirty-something Hawaiian man says. “For your troubles, I can give you a discount on your rate.” He rattles off a figure.