The Key to Paradise (4 page)

“Do
me
?”

“Yes, I heard it in a rap song. You know I spent fifty years being someone’s wife and someone’s mother. Those are years I wouldn’t trade for all the money in the world. But, I should have moved down here ages ago. I shouldn’t have worried about how hard it would be on the kids changing schools. I shouldn’t have worried about your poppop finding a job. I should have made a plan and brought us here. I didn’t balance between the family and myself and balance is everything. You gave Chris everything and now you’re feeling lost and hopeless because he was your everything. When you meet the right man he won’t be an essential part of you. You’ll both be full complete people in your own right who become an essential part of a pair.”

It was what I had thought Chris and I were: a pair. But now, the scales had been ripped from my eyes and the past was becoming more and more clear. Every little sacrifice I had made over the years—some as small as always going to the restaurant Chris preferred; others as large as moving to Boston—was laid bare before me and I didn’t like what I saw. Nana’s words gave me a little spark of hope that things could be different and better than they had been before. I guarded it inside of myself hoping that the winds of fate wouldn’t blow it out; that maybe with the right fuel I could fan it into the flames of real happiness.

“So,” she said turning to me and locking me into her gaze. “What does Olivia want?”

“I don’t know. I know I’m happier here on this beach than I have been in a long while.” It was true. Sitting on that sugar white sand beneath the shade of a swaying palm and listening the lapping of turquoise waves against the beach had reached out and calmed my ravaged soul in a way I had never expected. Even my broken heart couldn’t be blind to the natural beauty in front of me. To the grace of a pelican taking wing or the flash of silver fish as they leapt in the waves.

“That’s a start. Take some time and think it over.”

Nana reclined back in her chair closing her eyes against the glare of the sun while I conned my heart for some perfect answer that would solve everything. Something to give me purpose and direction and a life of meaning.

I could be a doctor, I thought, but I faint at the sight of blood. I could be a lawyer fighting injustice at every turn but prisons scare me. I could be a veterinarian valiantly saving the lives of hapless kittens but I never would be able to put one to sleep. I seemed to be my own worst enemy at every turn.

Maybe my worldly satisfaction wouldn’t come from my job. Maybe I would move to Peru and find satisfaction in my new hobby of salsa dancing but I have two left feet and no rhythm. I couldn’t paint, sing, knit or rock climb. My life had been a series of working dead end jobs so Chris could pursue his passion. My only passion had been him.

“I don’t know, Nana. I’m so lost. I don’t even know where to go! There’s nothing for me left in Boston anymore. No friends, no jobs since I walked out on those and no Chris. I don’t want to move back to California. All my old high school friends are married now with kids.”

“Friends, jobs and boyfriends can be made wherever you land. What makes you happy?”

I closed my eyes and pictured myself living in a small adobe house in the desert, in a condo in New York, in a shack by the sea in Massachusetts. Each was more wrong than the last. California and Boston had each had their own individual beauty but neither had stirred my soul in the way this shimmering white sand and turquoise water did.

“What’s the job situation like down here?”

“Not great. There’s no industry and no tourism here in Tamarind. All the little shops and restaurants cater to the locals and for the most part we’re low-key. Most people who live here commute to Marathon or Key West for work. It’s not too far.”

A question that had been niggling me from the moment I set foot on the island rose in my mind.

“Why isn’t there any tourism here? I mean this is the perfect place to vacation.”

“There used to be back in the fifties and sixties. Families, honeymooners and sport fishermen all loved coming down to the Keys. Then things happened.” She said with a casual shrug but I could tell from the distant gleam in her eyes she was remembering her honeymoon when she had been beautiful and
oh-so
young. Poppop had been her dashing young soldier just home from the war. “There were some economic downturns, businesses started closing up. Fewer businesses meant less things to draw the tourists. No one wants to vacation where the fanciest restaurant is a Red Lobster. There’s also the issue with the locals.”

“Locals like Landon Fitzpatrick?”

“Yeah, they don’t really take kindly to outsiders. They’re worried about their island being turned into a tourist hotspot.”

A part of me wanted to take offense and object. I was just visiting after all—a tourist myself. But I knew exactly what she was talking about. For all their good intentions, tourists can be a mixed bag. They bring money and new attractions to an area but if the locals aren’t careful they can easily be overrun. Part of the beauty of Tamarind Key was how secluded and natural it was. Paving over the mangroves to add a Señor Frog’s for the spring breakers would destroy it.

“It doesn’t have to be that way though.” I said half to myself and half to Nana. “A small resort with an on-site restaurant and bars so the tourists tend to stay on property. Maybe thirty rooms max. It would be perfect. You even have the building already.” I said motioning to the crumbling beauty behind us.

“That’s a beautiful idea. You should do it.”

“Huh?” Her calm assertion startled me into a nervous laugh. “Oh Nana, I didn’t mean me. I just meant someone.”

“
You’re
someone.”

“Yeah, someone with no experience in hospitality, business, management…” I ticked each one off on a finger. “Not to mention no startup funds.”

“You get experience by doing things and you don’t think Donald Trump started out with a million dollars, do you? People get small business loans all the time.”

That was my Nana. She always had an answer for everything. Nothing was insurmountable as long as you had a little gumption and a Bloody Mary to speed along the thinking process. I, on the other hand, had never been burdened with an excess of self-confidence. Maybe she was right. Maybe that was holding me back. Maybe I was so busy imagining possible failures that I was blind to the possible successes.

There was no denying the idea of opening a lavish resort on a tropical island had its appeal—namely because it was glamour in paradise. I pictured myself with perfectly coiffed curls in a beautiful Dolce and Gabbana silver grey cocktail dress flitting from patron to patron as they sat in the lobby around a tinkling piano. Now I was on the beach in a Betsey Johnson print chiffon sundress greeting new guests and directing them to the tiki bar.
Mmm
, strappy gladiator sandals, spike heeled Loubuotin pumps with a sliver of red sole flashing as I walked. I had to admit, my fantasies may not be realistic but they came with a fabulous wardrobe.

The roar of a boat motor sent my shoe dreams scattering in a puff of diesel scented smoke. I opened my eyes and saw a small white fishing boat cutting through the swells and heading for shore. Behind the wheel staring at us intently was Landon Fitzpatrick.
Of course.

My irritation was immediate. I had been enjoying such a beautiful morning and I wasn’t in the mood for more verbal sparring with Tamarind Key’s youngest curmudgeon. After the irritation came bone crushing humiliation as I suddenly remembered what I was wearing—Nana’s old bathing suit! Now he was going to think I was nuts in addition to whatever else he already judged me for. I tried to fold down into myself until I could just disappear.

“Hi, Landon!” Nana called out waving her hand. He sauntered over to us slowly looking like the perfect Sex on the Beach. His t-shirt was tight across his muscled chest and his jeans hung casually from his hips. Somehow this would be less mortifying if he wasn’t so damned attractive. I could already see the victorious smile on his face so I gave him my best scowl and pulled my sun hat lower.

“How’re you doing, Joan?”

“Just perfect. Isn’t it a beautiful day?”

“Water’s a bit rough outside of the reef but other than that yes.”

God, the small talk was interminable.

“Were you out fishing?”

“Mmhmm. I caught a couple of nice yellowfin for Joe so look for ahi on the menu tonight.” The whole time he was talking I could see the corners of his mouth tugging tight in a struggle to keep from laughing. His eyes kept darting over to me with a look of triumphant joy.

“You know ahi is one of my favorites. By the way, I forgot to ask last night. Is there any way you can stop by soon and do me a favor?”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Was Nana actually inviting this man over?

“Sure thing. What’s the matter?”

“Oh, my kitchen faucet is leaking. I think it may be a gasket or something.”

“I’ll try to swing by tonight.” With a nod to Nana and a sarcastic salute to me, Landon turned on his heel and walked back to his boat. I wish he had the grace to make it out of hearing range before he started laughing.

“What was he even doing here?” I asked trying to keep my voice light and pleasant for Nana.

“Oh, he lives just down the beach. It’s a nice little place on the water, used to be his grandfather’s.”

I realized that this must have been the road I was lost on last night when I was desperately searching for a cell phone signal. It was amazing how much difference a little sunshine made. That night I remembered feeling the heavy press of shadowy trees hemming me in on either side. Now all I could see was the beauty in the slender curve of a mangrove trunk, in the silvery leaves of a sea grape and the arching roots of the fig tree.

The tempting image of the hotel rose in my thoughts again. I could see that beautiful, confident woman so sure of her place in the world escorting guests around her domain. Maybe, with a little work I could be that woman. A newer, better version of me.

“You know what, Nana? I think you may be right about me taking more chances.”

“I usually am right about things.”

“Except about your kitchen sink. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“I’ll find a way to break it by tonight.”

Chapter Five

Olivia

When I woke up from my nap the pillow beneath my head was wet and tears were drying salty and tight on my cheeks. I had been dreaming about Chris and about the night when we first met.

It had been my first year at college. Alone and away from home for the first time in my life, I threw myself into my school work taking a heavy course load and spending my evenings hunched over my laptop writing paper after paper or trying to read ahead. I had never been a particularly bright student. All of my good grades were the result of hours of grinding work trying to force the slippery strands of information into my stubbornly closed brain.

A week before finals my dorm mates finally broke down. They peeled me out of my desk chair, slapped make up onto my face and dragged me out to a party down the street. It had been a cold night and I felt ridiculous stuffed into a borrowed miniskirt and tank top when the heavy gray clouds overhead threatened snow. Still, I tottered block after block in my high heels until we arrived at the party: three young girls covered in goose bumps with cheeks blazing red from the cold wind.

Inside the cramped student apartment was another world. It was steamy and hot with the press of bodies filling the small space. Cheap liquor bottles were strewn around the kitchen and the dining room table was covered with an ongoing game of flip cup. Everywhere I turned people were laughing and drinking to the pounding bass beat of the hip hop blaring from an iPod dock. 

I had a smile pasted on my face but felt far out of my element. I didn’t know anyone here other than my dorm mates. Someone pressed a cheap plastic cup filled with punch into my hand and I sipped it grateful to have something to do with my hands instead of just letting them flutter nervously by my side.

There was one seat available on an old loveseat that looked like it had been rescued from the side of the road on bulk trash day. A frayed poster of the Chicago Bulls hung over it. I slid into the space next to a young woman engaged in a political argument with a guy in thick black glasses.

Then he appeared. Just like a Disney prince sweeping in to rescue the princess, he took me by the hand and pulled me out onto the balcony away from the noise and heat. He tucked his parka around me while he seemed untouched by the cold. Too perfect for words.

We talked and talked until the first rays of light gilded the horizon. We talked about philosophy, religion and our deep childhood secrets. All the things that the very young think sets them apart from their peers. Like hidden inside their otherwise unoriginal minds is a wealth of insight and wisdom. The ironic thing is we all believe this. That we’re walking through life surrounded by thoughtless zombies who aren’t aware of the wonderful truths we think we’ve discovered. What we don’t realize is that everyone goes through the special snowflake stage. The lucky ones outgrow it as the years pile the weight of experience onto their once idealistic and self-involved shoulders.

That kind of naïve narcissism leads to the most tragic failing of youth: falling in love. The moment you find that one person you can open up to, you share your mundane unformed thoughts on heavy topics and they feel like they’ve found their one other kindred soul in the world. It’s magical and heady and in no way prepares you for reality. I lived in that fog of first love for too long. It was time to grow up.

I sighed and pulled myself out from beneath the covers. Through the thin walls I could hear Nana on the phone. My laptop sat open on the small desk in the guest room and a red number one blinked furiously from the tab with my email. I clicked it disinterestedly expecting spam. Instead I was greeted by Chris’ name. My stomach rose into my chest like a little girl riding a roller coaster for the first time.

“Dear Livvie,

There are so many things I want to say to you. I watch movies and remember the parts that made you laugh. I turn expecting to see you sitting in your spot on the couch until I remember you’re gone.

Yesterday, Ron told me a joke that you would love and I found myself trying to remember it to tell you later.

I know the way I behaved was terrible. I know I’ve hurt you deeply. I just can’t bear the thought of losing my best friend. Of knowing you’re somewhere out there in the world and I don’t know if you’re ok…if you’re happy. Please, can’t we be friends?”

Friends.
I read the email again more slowly this time weighing every word with care. The lack of the word “sorry” was evident in every line flashing like a neon sign. There was nothing about Gina and whether or not she was still in his life. It was just…
bullshit.

That’s exactly what it was I realized: grade-A-
bullshit
. It was all about his feelings and his needs. Even after everything that had happened, he wanted to assuage his own guilt by offering up my still raw and bleeding heart on the altar of unrequited friendship. Well…
fuck that.
For once my savage inner voice and I were in complete agreement. Together we clicked the delete button and closed the tab.

Now I sat staring at the Google homepage. The small cursor was blinking waiting for me to ask a question and search for an answer. Too bad all of my questions right now were too existential to be dealt with by a well-meaning computer algorithm. I don’t think even the omniscient Google knew the answer to ‘What am I doing with my life?’ Finally, I thought back to my conversation with Nana and typed in “How do I open a hotel?” feeling embarrassed even as my finger clicked the keys. Pages and pages of results sprang up. I started to read each one carefully.

“Liv, are you going to sleep the whole day away?” Nana’s voice drifted softly through the door. I got to my feet quickly and pulled it open.

“No, sorry Nana. I was just looking some stuff up online.”

“Well, bring it out to the kitchen. The girls are coming over. Verna’s son-in-law caught some lobster this morning and we’re going to grill it up.” I realized I was starving as my lunch had been of the liquid variety. I unplugged my computer and followed her out to the kitchen where the ingredients for potato salad, coleslaw and a host of other sides were strewn across the counter. I picked up a knife and started chopping the celery.

“So, Landon said he might stop by tonight to fix the sink.” Nana said. I turned towards the previously functional faucet which was now dripping listlessly. A wrench was sitting on the kitchen table, evidence of obvious sabotage.

“Nana it’s not normal to break your own things in order to set your granddaughter up with a man she has no interest in and who has no interest in her.”

“How do you know he’s not interested?”

“Oh, he’s made that abundantly clear.”

“That’s just Landon,” she said smiling over her coleslaw. “He prickly on the outside but a heart of gold inside.” I couldn’t help but scoff. “Honestly Liv, I’m not asking you to birth his babies. Just go out dancing one night. Forget about Chris and being sad. Maybe put some makeup on.”

“I don’t need makeup because I don’t care what Landon Fitzpatrick thinks.” I resisted the immature urge to stick out my tongue.

Nana just fixed me with a withering look and sighed. “So what were you looking at on the computer?”

A small part of me didn’t want to tell her. For one moment I had an irrational fear that she would laugh in my face. Logically I knew Nana would never do that but sometimes when we feel so low we project our own insecurities onto other people. I decided I wasn’t going to live like that.

“I was looking up how to start a hotel. Not as anything serious, you know. I was just…curious.” Nana fixed me with a triumphant smile. “No one likes a gloater.” I quickly added. “I’m not saying I’m going to do it.”

“But you’re thinking about it.” She teased. Just then, the sound of a puttering motor reached my ears. I looked out the window and saw a coral pink Vespa winding its way up the driveway followed by a yellow one, violet one and one in lime green. Of course they had matching scooters. My nana was in a biker gang.

Verna was the first through the door. She gave me a dry kiss on the cheek and handed me a bottle of rum. Ellen was right on her heels with a grandmotherly hug and a bottle of vodka. Tequila and whiskey followed in quick succession. Apparently no one did the bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers thing in Tamarind Key. Here, hard liquor was king.

Nana and the others took over cooking while I went back to my computer trying to keep my eyes from crossing while I read an incredibly dense article on small business financing options. Normally I’m a pretty fast reader but having to google every third word slows down even the speediest. I started writing down the most promising looking loan and grant options.

“What are you working on, sweetie?” Ellen asked taking a seat next to me, the ice in her rapidly disappearing whiskey tinkled softly.

“Oh, tell them, Liv. You girls are going to love this.” Nana called out from the sink where she was trying to rinse the spiny clawless lobsters in the sputtering spray.

“I was just toying with the idea of staying down here and reopening that old hotel on the beach.”

“The Sea Watch?” Lily’s eyes lit up with distant memories. “I used to work there when I was young.”

“Did you?”

“Oh yes, I started out as a chambermaid but moved over to being a waitress after a year or so. It was so beautiful and glamorous. And the men, my God,
the men
. This was before the embargo so a lot of wealthy Cuban men used to come here to fish and mingle. I did
a lot
of mingling.” Her eyes grew misty and distant with the memory of old paramours. “To this day a Cuban accent still makes my knees weak.”

“Were you around when it closed?”

“Oh no, I had gone away to college where I met my husband Morris. We moved to New York so he could take over his father’s pharmacy and by the time I moved back down The Sea Watch was boarded up. You know, they used to have dance parties on the beach. The women would be barefoot but in beautiful gowns and they strung little tiny white lights through the palm trees and the sea grapes. There would be a quartet playing and everyone danced under the stars to the sound of the surf. It was so romantic even just to watch.”

“What was romantic?” I turned startled to see Landon standing in the doorway with his tool box in hand. Did he own anything other than white tee shirts that showed off his flat stomach? For a fleeting moment I wished I had put on some makeup after all.

“We were talking about the old Sea Watch.” Nana said walking over to give him a kiss on the cheek.

He harrumphed disinterestedly. “Let the mangroves pull it down, I say.”

“Oh Landon,” Verna giggled. “If you could you would tear down all our houses and have us live in Chickees like the Seminoles did.”

“Thanks for stopping by,” Nana added ushering him from the doorway towards the dripping sink.

Landon turned to me and smiled. It seemed startlingly genuine until he opened his mouth. “I only came tonight in the hopes of seeing Olivia in her bathing suit again.” My cheeks were burning a fiery red.

“You wouldn’t be the first,” Nana said winking at me. The teasing joke sailed right over her head. Lord, save me from my own relations.

“I’m glad you’re here, Landon. I’m pretty sure the problem is the curvy thing underneath the sink.” Verna suggested shooting me another exaggerated wink.

“The drain pipe? That wouldn’t have anything to do with the faucet.”

Landon bent down and opened the cabinet to inspect it and I suddenly understood Verna’s ploy. His well-formed butt was sticking out with his head shoved under the sink. I tried my best to stifle a giggle with my hand.

“I love a man with a rear you can rest a drink on.” Ellen said eyeing him appreciatively. Landon’s response was thankfully muffled by the cabinet.

“So what’s the plan, Liv? You’ll need financing I suppose. I know Dave Sundersen down at the Keys First National Bank. His mother lives over on Big Pine Key. That woman has the warmth of a pit viper but she knows how to put the screws to her son. He’ll give you a nice big loan if I talk to her.” Lily said sipping on her martini casually. It was easy to see her as the aging daughter of Don Corleone.

“It’s more of just a thought right now. I mean I don’t have any realistic plans, I haven’t even seen the inside of the place. I don’t even know how to write a business plan.”

“You can just goggle that, right?” Nana asked.