nudge undid her
queasy equilibrium. With all eyes fixed on her, she slithered off her chair and
under the table. Hugh’s efforts to halt the slide proved ineffective. He was
left holding one of her arms like a ref awarding victory to a dazed
prizefighter.
The floor show ended in minutes. The help bundled the
inebriated heiress outside with a minimum of fuss. Watching, I felt a surge of
pity for her hoodlum sons—a mother missing in action and a smarmy sycophant
calling the shots. What a home life.
“I’m sure it was the excitement,” Sally said, attempting to
recover momentum. She then proceeded to present multimillion-dollar-sales
awards and laud Gator’s bulldozing talents. Next she noted Nickel’s addition to
the team.
“Woody Nickel comes from the Keys, where he sold out a
classy development in less than nine months. ’Course we don’t expect him to be
’round here for long either. At least we hope not—cause that’ll mean we’ve sold
out. Next week we’ll be selling homesites faster than pancakes on Shrove
Tuesday. We’re counting on Woody to take Dear Island to the next level.
“Now for tonight’s final surprise.” She upped the wattage of
her smile. “What could possibly make a real estate agent happier—or richer—than
an opportunity to sell Beach West? How about a sister development on Emerald
Cay?”
What the hell is Emerald Cay? My tablemates appeared
equally baffled, with three smug exceptions—Woody, Gator and Bea.
With a flourish, Sally plucked the oversized artist’s
rendering of Beach West from its easel to expose another plat hiding in its
shadow.
“We bought Hogsback Island,” she announced proudly, “and
rechristened it Emerald Cay. As y’all know, Hogsback—I mean Emerald Cay—sits
diagonally across the channel from our marina. This unspoiled paradise is less
than three minutes by boat. Ferry service will connect our islands. Emerald Cay
homesites and amenities will be spectacular—an equestrian center, one-acre
lots, palatial homes. But the icing on the cake will be the island’s green appeal. We’re harnessing wind, ocean tides and sun to provide all of Emerald’s
power.”
The agent to my right moaned with orgasmic anticipation.
Sally thrust her hands forward to stay the applause. “I know
you’re dying to hear more. But we closed the deal too late to have details
ready tonight. Next week we’ll have complete info on both offerings. True
synergy. Major marketing dollars. Hey, I’m betting all of y’all will join our
million-dollar club next year. Hell, we may need to start a billion-dollar
club.”
Sally whipped up enthusiasm to a fare-thee-well. Clapping
crescendoed, wave upon wave, but Janie’s hands never left the table. She
twisted her napkin like she was wringing a neck.
“Holy bat wings,” Janie muttered. “When the hell did they
get this wild hair? And who’s the new fairy godmother? I can’t believe they
convinced Gracie to fork over enough for two projects plus mucho marketing
bucks.”
As soon as Sally lowered her microphone, Janie grabbed my
wrist with an iron grip and sprinted for the door. “Come on,” she said, teeth
gritted.
We emerged from the club’s interior ahead of the milling
masses. Janie shook her head with metronome regularity all the way to her golf
cart, muttering “damn” every other beat.
“Last I knew, Gator was wrapping pennies to scrape together
payroll,” she grumped. “The owner of Hogsback wrote six months ago asking ten
million for his island. Sure Gator drooled, but he dictated a letter saying ‘we
pass.’ Banks are still skittish about pricey resort real estate. Sally must be
banging some bank president to pull off a loan this size.”
I chuckled at Janie’s nonstop diatribe. “You can’t stand it
that Gator didn’t confide in you before tonight’s bash.”
“Damn straight,” she replied, absent her usual grin. “That’s
a first, and it worries me—especially since Woody and Bea knew.
queasy equilibrium. With all eyes fixed on her, she slithered off her chair and
under the table. Hugh’s efforts to halt the slide proved ineffective. He was
left holding one of her arms like a ref awarding victory to a dazed
prizefighter.
The floor show ended in minutes. The help bundled the
inebriated heiress outside with a minimum of fuss. Watching, I felt a surge of
pity for her hoodlum sons—a mother missing in action and a smarmy sycophant
calling the shots. What a home life.
“I’m sure it was the excitement,” Sally said, attempting to
recover momentum. She then proceeded to present multimillion-dollar-sales
awards and laud Gator’s bulldozing talents. Next she noted Nickel’s addition to
the team.
“Woody Nickel comes from the Keys, where he sold out a
classy development in less than nine months. ’Course we don’t expect him to be
’round here for long either. At least we hope not—cause that’ll mean we’ve sold
out. Next week we’ll be selling homesites faster than pancakes on Shrove
Tuesday. We’re counting on Woody to take Dear Island to the next level.
“Now for tonight’s final surprise.” She upped the wattage of
her smile. “What could possibly make a real estate agent happier—or richer—than
an opportunity to sell Beach West? How about a sister development on Emerald
Cay?”
What the hell is Emerald Cay? My tablemates appeared
equally baffled, with three smug exceptions—Woody, Gator and Bea.
With a flourish, Sally plucked the oversized artist’s
rendering of Beach West from its easel to expose another plat hiding in its
shadow.
“We bought Hogsback Island,” she announced proudly, “and
rechristened it Emerald Cay. As y’all know, Hogsback—I mean Emerald Cay—sits
diagonally across the channel from our marina. This unspoiled paradise is less
than three minutes by boat. Ferry service will connect our islands. Emerald Cay
homesites and amenities will be spectacular—an equestrian center, one-acre
lots, palatial homes. But the icing on the cake will be the island’s green appeal. We’re harnessing wind, ocean tides and sun to provide all of Emerald’s
power.”
The agent to my right moaned with orgasmic anticipation.
Sally thrust her hands forward to stay the applause. “I know
you’re dying to hear more. But we closed the deal too late to have details
ready tonight. Next week we’ll have complete info on both offerings. True
synergy. Major marketing dollars. Hey, I’m betting all of y’all will join our
million-dollar club next year. Hell, we may need to start a billion-dollar
club.”
Sally whipped up enthusiasm to a fare-thee-well. Clapping
crescendoed, wave upon wave, but Janie’s hands never left the table. She
twisted her napkin like she was wringing a neck.
“Holy bat wings,” Janie muttered. “When the hell did they
get this wild hair? And who’s the new fairy godmother? I can’t believe they
convinced Gracie to fork over enough for two projects plus mucho marketing
bucks.”
As soon as Sally lowered her microphone, Janie grabbed my
wrist with an iron grip and sprinted for the door. “Come on,” she said, teeth
gritted.
We emerged from the club’s interior ahead of the milling
masses. Janie shook her head with metronome regularity all the way to her golf
cart, muttering “damn” every other beat.
“Last I knew, Gator was wrapping pennies to scrape together
payroll,” she grumped. “The owner of Hogsback wrote six months ago asking ten
million for his island. Sure Gator drooled, but he dictated a letter saying ‘we
pass.’ Banks are still skittish about pricey resort real estate. Sally must be
banging some bank president to pull off a loan this size.”
I chuckled at Janie’s nonstop diatribe. “You can’t stand it
that Gator didn’t confide in you before tonight’s bash.”
“Damn straight,” she replied, absent her usual grin. “That’s
a first, and it worries me—especially since Woody and Bea knew.
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