“Pass me that hammer,” Kevin said. It was three weeks later, and we were hammering nails into the hotel’s walls to hang paintings. Every painting was of the ocean. The beauty and power of the ocean was present in every room.
“How many more of these do we have left to hang?” I asked.
“This is the last one,” Kevin said.
“No, it isn’t,” Esme said. “There’s still one left to hang in the manager’s room.”
Kevin hammered a nail into the wall and hung another painting. “That room is going to get its own special treatment,” he said, winking at Esme.
“Oh, is it now?” she said.
“Oh, it is,” Kevin said crossing the room and bringing Esme into his arms.
We had decided to stay at the hotel to help Kevin complete his parents’ dream. My parents weren’t big on the idea of my staying in Panama, especially after everything that had happened. But Esme’s dad was coming down early next week to help us get the hotel up and running.
Kevin hired locals to finish the construction. Delgado had “sold” the hotel to Kevin for nothing. And Kevin, in turn, had decided not to report Delgado to the police. The hotel would be operational in another month, six weeks at the most. And the locals, now involved in the building and, eventually, running of the hotel, were supportive of it. Kevin also had plans to give part of the hotel’s annual profits to the village.
“Let’s take a break,” Kevin said.
I straightened the painting and followed them out to the beach. We walked the length of the pier to the dock, where there were twenty big chairs with cushions and side tables and a giant canopy for shade.
“It’s almost done,” I said, settling into a chair with a sigh.
“Yeah,” Kevin said. “Can you imagine this place with people in it? Like, packed?”
“With surfers?” Esme said. “I don’t want to imagine.” She leaned against the railing. “Maybe filled with families. You know, kids and everything.”
“You wouldn’t know what to do with kids,” Kevin said, laughing. Esme gave him a quick punch on the shoulder.
“Kids? You teach them to surf,” Alana shouted. She stepped onto the pier in a floppy T-shirt and white shorts.
“No way,” I said. “You want to turn the next generation into a bunch of useless beach bums?”
Alana settled into the chair beside me. She had decided to stick around too. Her original plan to take a year off after graduation and travel with her boyfriend had shifted dramatically. Now, she said, she was going to stay in one place with her real boyfriend.
Alana looked at me. “Those five guys— I totally forget their names—the five we hired the other day?”
“Don’t ask me. You set it up,” I said.
“Well, the five guys who are supposed to come and do the concrete deck are coming tomorrow,” she said.
“That’s what they said yesterday,” Kevin said.
She shrugged. “Busy guys, I guess.”
Kevin laughed. “It’ll all get done in time,” he said, leaning over the railing beside Esme.
“And then what?” Esme said.
“Then we open Fallbrook Resort.” He turned to face us. “Man, that has a nice ring to it.”
“Your mom would love it,” Esme said.
“She would,” Kevin said. “My dad too. He always wanted me to go into business with him. I thought it would be super boring and, you know, corporate.”
“Corporate?” I asked. “What does that even mean?”
He laughed. “Business-guy like.”
Staying in Panama wasn’t the worst idea in the world. I had options, of course. I had done well at high school and could apply to colleges, if I wanted. But for now, there was something appealing about island life. It was slow and steady and pleasant. And we were doing something to contribute to the community.
“Shrimp bake tonight?” Alana said. She had taken on the role of cook.
“Sounds perfect,” I said.
Kevin wrapped an arm around Esme and looked back out at the water. He raised his head suddenly, like a dog who had heard a whistle. “Smell that?” he said.
I sniffed at the hot, heavy air. “What?”
“That’s the smell of waves coming in.” He closed his eyes. “Yes. Listen.”
We all closed our eyes. I could hear birds in the trees, music from the village, the clicking sway of the palms. But nothing else. Not right away.
Then I heard it.
Beneath everything was the gentle lull of the ocean. The sleek, beautiful sound of approaching waves.
“Oh yeah,” I said.
“You hear it?” Kevin said.
“Yeah. I hear it,” I said.
Alana grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “Me too. Ten-footers I’d say.”
“At least,” Esme said. “I’d say up to twelve.”
“No way. Those are easily fifteen feet,” I said. “Twenty maybe.”
“Monsters,” Kevin said.
I opened my eyes. He was grinning at me.
“Want to go surfing?” he asked.
I smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”