1
LINCOLN
Ihave a secret.
I hate the four months a year I spend on Ceto Island, keeping my family’s legacy afloat.
This year promises to be his worst stint yet, because I have to host a bunch of strangers for a New Year’s Eve wedding.
That’s all this place needs, a bunch of clueless tourists traipsing over the island, ruining the natural beauty.
But the Spades need a cash injection to keep our family resort open, and a wedding will line our coffers for the next six months. Then it will be Walker or Kai’s problem.
Not entirely true, because the Spade brothers, as everyone calls us, run this place equally, though Weston, the eldest, has been absent the last few years because of his commercial pilot duties. I don’t begrudge West not putting in time on the island, because he’s financially supported us for years, since our father and grandfather died a decade ago.
“Merry Christmas, bozo.” West taps me on the shoulder with a bottle of beer and when I turn, he hands it to me. “Time to chill.”
I glance at his watch. “It’s midnight, so technically it’s Boxing Day.”
“Pedantic as well as grumpy.” West twists the top off a cola. “Santa didn’t deliver, huh?”
“You’d be grumpy too if you had to get this place shipshape before that stupid wedding in a few days.”
“Could’ve been worse. They could’ve rescheduled for sooner.”
“Will the food Emery prepared keep until then?”
West nods. “The generator kicked in early during the cyclone, so the fridges powered through.”
“When are the bride and groom arriving?”
“Later today, hence this.” He raises his cola in my direction. “I’m bringing Tom and Pauline back with me from Brisbane, along with the carpenter for the repairs.”
“Not a moment too soon.” I grimace. “If we don’t get those rooms fixed, the guests will be getting dressed in the rainforest and camping on the beach after the wedding.”
“Don’t stress, Linc. I’m flying out at dawn, and I’ll be back by two.”
Easy for his brother to say don’t stress. Employed by an expanding airline, he has a regular wage deposited into his bank account, whereas I depend on the vagaries of clients. Being a self-employed graphic designer means I constantly worry about unpaid invoices, sourcing new clients, and saving for the downtimes, which are more frequent these days.
The upside of my job means I can still work during my stints on the island, but business is slow at Christmas regardless, making me extra edgy.
“Kai and Walker already in bed?” West asks.
“Yeah. That incredible pudding Emery whipped up put them into a food coma.”
“She’s talented,” West says, his smug smile at odds with my eldest brother’s usual expression: disinterested.
Our dad and grandfather’s deaths hit West the hardest. He’d been furious at their selfishness for taking the boat out in a cyclone, chasing an adrenaline rush. Then he had to deal with relentless grief while raising Kai, Walker, and me. West had been twenty-four at the time and a qualified pilot who had to give up international flying to be here as much as he could. While West never complained about sticking to domestic routes, I saw the strain it took on my eldest brother, bearing the responsibility for the family.
As the youngest, I’d been sixteen at boarding school in Brisbane. I’ll never forget the day West turned up at school and delivered the bad news. I’d failed a maths test, my third in a row. The teachers couldn’t get it through their thick skulls that I loved art and hated everything else. On the verge of being given detention for yelling at my math teacher, who berated me at length, West showed up, told me the bad news, and nothing mattered anymore.
I wanted to leave school on the spot and head back to the island, but West talked me down, and after the funeral, I had a new resolve to follow my path to be a graphic artist because life was too freaking short.
“What are you thinking about?” West asks, concern in his eyes.
“Nothing important.”
I always do this. Subdue memories of the past. Shut down at the slightest hint of emotion. I have that in common with West.
