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Trudy peers at me: “Are you always this suspicious?”
“You have no idea.”
“You don’t need to be,” Ann states. “People who do this kind of work, live this kind of life, most of us are content to do our own thing. We’re eccentric and antisocial—”
“But not bodies-buried-in-the-basement antisocial,” Trudy assures me.
“Not to mention Pomaikai has no basements!”
I study both of them. “I would feel better about that statement if I hadn’t spent my morning discovering a body.”
“Oh,” Trudy says.
“Oh dear,” Ann agrees. “Umm…”
“Back to dinner prep!” Trudy declares.
“Food fixes everything,” Ann extols.
Based on my first twenty-four hours alone, I think they are both incredibly optimistic.
LIKE THE PREVIOUS night, we’re the last to join the party. The meal is amazing: platters of fried pork chops for the carnivores and breaded eggplant for the vegetarians, accompanied by mounds of mashed potatoes, boats of gravy, and some kind of quinoa harvest salad that might be one of the best things I’ve ever tasted. People help themselves to seconds and thirds. I don’t blame them, though having the inside track on Ann’s surprise dessert—fresh-baked brownies—I pace myself accordingly.
Upon entering the dining hall, I look for Ronin first. He’s deep in conversation with Vaughn and, given the grim looks on both their faces, I take a pass. Next up I search for Aolani, but her table is already full.
Which brings me to Emi, the petite ornithologist. She glances up at my approach, gives me a huge smile, and pats the empty seat next to her. It’s so unexpectedly kind, I almost embarrass myself by breaking into tears. I hide my rush of emotion by busying myself with the exact placement of my plate and silverware.
“How was your first day?” she wants to know.
It takes me a second, then: “I saw the most beautiful white birds. Angel terns? They were just… magical.”
Emi beams. “There is a chick not far from the rear of this building. Tomorrow, when the rain stops, I can show you. It looks like a puff of cotton perched on top of a tree limb. I shouldn’t play favorites, but between you and me, I love the common terns. They remind me that miracles can always happen.”
She turns to the older woman sitting across from her, who has beautiful silver-gray hair cut in a shoulder-length bob framing her brilliant blue eyes. “Have you met Tannis? Tannis, Frankie. Frankie, Tannis.”
I reach across the table to shake her hand.
“Are you also an ornithologist?”
“Oh, no, no. I’m not nearly that smart.” She flashes Emi a warm look. Clearly, they’re friends. “I’m a landscape architect.”
“Landscape architect… as in designing the grounds around the new resort? Flowers, plants, that kind of thing?”
“And hardscapes, walking paths, patios, porticos. The options are endless in a setting this beautiful.”
“Isn’t it a little early to be contemplating the gardens when the building hasn’t even been started yet?”
“It’s never too early to involve someone like myself.” She has a bit of a lilting accent. Canadian, maybe. MacManus has certainly assembled an international team. Apparently, hiring the best money can buy involves global cherry-picking.
“How a building is situated on a property is the first step in the design process, particularly a resort that must both dazzle upon first glance and yet blend seamlessly into its natural surroundings. For a project such as this, it’s imperative to be on-site. I couldn’t do my job otherwise.”
“And we get to torture her,” Emi chimes in. “She thinks in terms of sunlight and curving inlets and perfect views. Then I discover nesting sites and it’s all, ‘No disturbing there. Or there. Or over there.’”
“The boobies are tough taskmasters,” Tannis agrees, but she doesn’t sound angry about it.
“From what I can tell, the birds own this place,” I say. “Certainly, that’s what it sounds like at night. How do you work with that?”
“I’m thinking along the lines of a fluid mix of natural habitat and human ingenuity.”
