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“I told you the company was growing faster than you were staffing it. I told you we needed more department-specific oversight.”
“I hired a VP of operations.”
“Which was great. But we need one over marketing. And finance. You and I were basically the only checks and balances. And we sucked at it.”
His chest rises and falls in rapid breaths. “I’ve been with Dougherty since day one.”
“And you need help. But you’re too damn stubborn or stupid.” I’m done with this conversation. I jerk my smoothing stick out of the ground. It spits a column of sand right in Rhett’s face. I have to bite my lip to avoid laughing as Rhett tries to wipe it away, but it sticks to his ocean-salty skin.
I turn my back on him and set to work on the second arch, then the third. I take care not to look his way. I don’t know what he’s thinking, and I’m not sure I care. I didn’t come here for absolution from him.
Okay, maybe I did. Obviously, it’s not coming.
Another shadow crosses my mission, but this time it’s a heavy cloud. The temperature drops a notch. It’s blissful. I need to take a quick dip in the ocean to cool off after working so long in the sun.
But I don’t trust Rhett with my sculpture. I’ve made good headway, and I’m not convinced he won’t damage it.
The sun returns. I’m thirsty, so I pull a bottle of water out of my bag. I’d rather be drinking a margarita, but I only got the one, plus a single plate of tacos, before I took off to build a castle. I didn’t want to risk being too close during Gloria’s reveal to Rhett.
Which she apparently didn’t get to. I wonder what that was about.
I finish the third arch and rock back on my heels to assess. I pluck my phone out of my bag. Sometimes the camera sees things my brain fixes when looking with my eyes. And sure enough, as I snap the shot, I realize the dome is too small in proportion with the arches.
Rhett stands, casting a long shadow over my work. “So, that’s it?”
I have no answer for him and calmly collect more sand for the dome.
“What am I going to do about you?”
Sigh. He won’t shut up. “Pretend I don’t exist. Then we’ll be the same.”
He trudges a few yards away, then stops. I keep him in the corner of my eye as I carefully pack more sand and smooth it down.
Now for details. I want something nostalgic, like maybe a broken-down cart. I don’t think I have time to do horses, and I’m not confident I could do animals justice with no access to the Internet for reference material.
Rhett hasn’t moved. His arms are crossed, his foot tapping.
I pile up a mound of sand, packing it firmly so I can carve out details. My flat scraper creates clean, smooth lines on all four sides. A strange sound separates itself from the dull roar of the waves. I glance at Rhett. He’s talking to himself, complete with hand gestures.
This makes me laugh. Sure, Rhett, give your speech to the palm trees.
Another cloud drifts in, providing blessed relief from the sun. I keep working.
Eventually Rhett takes off walking along the shore.
Is that it? Have I won?
He’s not headed back to the party beach unless he’s planning to walk the entire circumference of the island. He skulks down the shore with a stiff-legged stride like an angry Frankenstein. He comes to an outcropping of rock that looks impenetrable, so he wades out into the water and dives below the surface.
I stand up, watching. I catch a small glimpse of him as he comes up for a breath. He’s swimming around the rocks.
Then I can’t see him.
He’s gone!
The cloud cover continues, and a stronger breeze kicks up, cooling me down. This is nice. I’ll walk back for another margarita in a minute. If Rhett is going to circle the entire island, I have time for booze and tacos before he makes it back.
But for now, I want to carve a perfect wooden cart.
