Stranded in Paradise (12 page)

“Pretty much. He did offer me another position . . .”

“And the choice was?”

“Payroll, two levels below my current position, or leave the company.”

“Ouch.”

She piled up the napkin pieces. “I think Len brought in his friend to get back at me. He seemed jealous of the working relationship I had with his father—he felt intimidated by me.”

Carter sat back in the booth and studied her.

“That's pretty cold. Could be the best thing that's ever happened to you.”

“Yeah, well, Len has quite an ego. I went back and realized I still had a plane ticket to Hawaii—it was supposed to be a business trip . . .”

“He paid for this trip?”

“Well . . . technically . . . yes.” She shifted in her chair.

“It was a nonrefundable ticket . . .” her voice trailed off. She really hadn't given it much thought but when put that way she felt a guilt she hadn't felt before. “I guess I should pay
Connor.com
for it when I get back . . .”

Carter smiled reassuringly at her. “So what are you going to do for work when you return? A bright, intelligent woman like you shouldn't let one jerk get you down.”

“Bright and intelligent, huh? I wonder what kind of impression you'd have of me when I'm not doing a Three-Stooge fest.” She pointed to her ankle and puffy lips.

“It's in the eyes,” Carter said half-joking.

“Oh, the eyes,” she repeated. “Seriously, I don't know what I'm going to do. Yet.” She balanced her coffee cup in one hand, studying the thick mug as if she'd never seen a cup before.

“So, now what?”

“Now I wait until Len realizes his mistake—and he will. He'll beg me to come back and I'll probably go— under my terms. I've spent too many years with the company to walk away now.” She leaned back in the booth. “In another five years I'll move on, manage an even larger Human Resources department, and maybe even move into labor relations.” She looked up sharply. “With my experience I can work anywhere I want.”

He lifted his hands with mock surrender. “I'm on your side.”

“Well, don't think for a minute that Len's decision is anything but a minor roadblock—because it isn't. I've spent the last five years building my career—Len Connor isn't going to diminish it or
me
with one brief conversation.”

“Got it all under control, do you?”

Joanie arrived with two plates and slid breakfast in front of Carter and Tess before pouring fresh coffee.

“Can I get you anything else?” Joanie asked.

“Nothing,” Carter said. “Thanks.”

The waitress walked off. Tess sat staring at the plate.

“Do you want something else?” Carter looked at her.

“I'm not hungry.”

“You've got to eat something.” Carter spread jelly on a piece of toast and held it out to her. “Try this. One bite at a time.”

“I can't—”

“Tess Nelson's in control, isn't she? Eat.”

She snatched the toast and bit into it.

“That's it—I love a woman with an appetite.”

Picking up her fork, she sobered. She looked up, her eyes intent. “You talk to God, don't you?”

“Sure. My faith is important to me.”

“I suppose He talks back to you?”

“Every day—in a loud, thunderous voice often accompanied by wind, thunder, and lightning.” He took a sip of coffee, and then dipped his head when he saw the heat in her eyes.

“He doesn't
talk
to me—not in the way you imply. But we have ongoing communication.”

She shrugged. “My grandmother took me to church once in a while, but I didn't then nor do I now understand all the hoopla. Lately I've been trying to comprehend . . .” She glanced out the front window of the café. “Right now I have more pressing concerns to consider; do I have any identification left, any clothes, and any money—”

“Don't worry about it. I'm sure the hotel will help.”

She felt herself choke up—she wasn't sure why exactly, but she sure wasn't going to let Carter McConnell see her turn into a blubbering mass. “I thought about sending the tickets back to Len, but then I thought, why not? Why not get out of Denver, leave the snow and cold behind? That's easy enough, I thought. Consider my options.

“But then the taxi had no heater and I nearly froze. The driver drove like a maniac. I sprained my ankle at the airport and had to limp down the Jetway. When I got to Maui, a little boy ran into me, knocking my contact out. My best friend, whom I was really coming to see, is on the Mainland showing her watercolor originals.” She sighed. “The luau was a disaster, the beach a worse failure, and now there's been a fire in the hotel kitchen, which happened to be directly below my room.” She looked up. “Does this God of yours have a warped sense of humor?”

“Yes, God has a sense of humor, but it's not warped.” He leaned closer and whispered lightly, “Nothing about God is warped. He loves us—without reservations.”

Tess felt herself swallow hard. The kindness in his voice threatened her resolve to not cry. Carter straightened. “What about family? Mom? Dad? Brothers or sisters? Why not go home for a long overdue vacation?”

“Never. Mona wouldn't welcome the intrusion. She's the last person I want to know about losing my job. I haven't seen my brother in twenty years. He's off photographing another war somewhere—I can't remember the last time we talked.”

“Mona?”

“My
mother.”

The way she bit the word out translated to al-Qaida terrorist. Mona bin Laden.

His tone softened. “What a pair we make. I'm here in paradise because my boss thinks I'm stressed out; you're here because you
are
stressed out . . .”

“I didn't say I was stressed out,” she defended.

Carter smiled knowingly. “Okay. Never mind,” she conceded.

She glanced down at her soot-blackened robe, the blanket, and shrugged dismally. “I'm going home—the moment the stores open and I can buy something other than this robe and blanket to wear.”

Carter salted his eggs. “I suppose—” His words halted in midsentence as a man suddenly burst through the restaurant's front door and barreled toward the table. The Popeye—a spinach-eating looking brute twice Carter's size and clearly of Polynesian descent—grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him out of the booth.

“What th—?” Carter's eyes bulged as the oaf dangled him in midair by the nape of his cotton/polyester blend T-shirt. The hulk glared at Carter as if he were about to take him apart piece by piece.

“The question is, what you think
you're
doing, Chump!” The man's voice sounded like gravel on metal.

“Let–go–of–me!” Carter wrapped his hands around the man's tree-branch-like wrist and tried to wrestle free. His air supply diminished.

Tess slid out of the booth, throwing down her napkin. “You let him go this instant!” she demanded. “Who do you think you are?”

Carter felt like a fool, dangling by his shirt collar from the hand of this . . . this
leviathan,
while Tess confronted the guy like a teacup poodle facing down a pit bull.

She snapped her finger and pointed at the man with authority. “I'm warning you!
Let
go of him!”

Standing in bare feet, she was five foot nothing of blazing wrath in a nightgown and smoky bathrobe.

The bully let go of Carter's collar and shoved him against the booth. Carter felt his hip hit with a sickening thud. He straightened against the pain, about to pull himself up between Tess and the giant when Tess spoke again, her voice low but filled with grit, “Just what do you think you're doing?”

The man's cold eyes fixed on her. “This is between him and me, Short-Stuff.”

She got in his face. “Not when you come in here and disrupt my breakfast, Buster!”

He started to ease off, shooting Carter a murderous glare. “I don't know who you are, Lady, but this chump has been seein' my girl. Nobody cuts into my time.”

“Wait a minute!” Carter protested but Tess held up one hand to stop him.

“And who is your
girl?
” she asked coldly.

“Irihapeti Tehuia—ask him.” He pointed at Carter.

“I not only don't
know
an Irihapeti Tehuia, I can't even spell it.” Carter sat back down, raising a hand to his crushed windpipe.

“Never heard of her,” the ape scoffed. “I got word that you two was seen havin' a cozy dinner last Friday—”

“I wasn't in Hawaii last Friday.” Carter met his furious gaze. “Your information is wrong.”

“You—”

“He wasn't,” she interrupted. “Neither one of us got here until Monday night.”

“You'd lie for him—”

“Maybe. But I'm telling the truth right now.” She crossed her arms, her eyes daring him to repeat his claim.

The brute's features coiled like a snake. “You're not Frank Lotus?”

“I'm not Frank Anybody. Look, fella, I don't know who you're looking for,” Carter said, “but it isn't me. Why don't you just leave, talk to this woman you're having trouble with, and try to get the mistake straightened out.” Carter massaged his swollen throat. The dufus had bruised his windpipe!

Pivoting on his heel, the stranger lumbered out of the café. Tess sank back into the booth and released a sigh of relief.

“Well, that was interesting,” Carter said.

They sat for a moment, and then burst out laughing. Carter was glad to see that she was feeling better, even if it took his broken neck to wipe the gloom off her face.

“If this situation can get any worse, I'd like to know how,” he admitted.

“Oh, I'm sure it can.” She wiped her eyes with the corner of a napkin and eyed the mound of congealed eggs on her plate. “Actually, it's starting to get interesting.”

9

“Alana
has now been upgraded from a tropical storm to a hurricane. She could make landfall in the Hawaiian Islands within thirty-six hours. But she's switched course before. Stay tuned for updates as they become available . . .”

The bartender reached up and switched off the news. Murmurs about the approaching storm spread among the guests, but Tess was oblivious to the gossip.

Sitting in the Pioneer Courtyard, surrounded by palms and lush vegetation, she and Carter waited for the hotel management's instructions on how to weather the storm.

With all the mishaps she'd had, the thought that she'd be smack dab in the center of a hurricane had never entered her mind.

She finished off a glass of iced tea and sat back. “You have been very nice about all this.”

Carter had been more than nice; he'd been courteous and kind and ever optimistic. That was more than she could claim for herself.

Pioneer Inn management had rounded up the fire-displaced guests and asked them to wait in the courtyard for further instructions. A female employee found a pair of jeans and a shirt for Tess, and she had changed in the ladies' room. Carter and several other men still wore pajamas. The smell of thick smoke hung onerous in the air, and the guests buzzed with stories of the harrowing escape.

“You've been a good sport, too,” he acknowledged. “What did the doctor say about that ankle?”

Medical staff was on site to help, so she took the opportunity to have the injury looked at again. By now, a sprained ankle was the least of her worries.

“He said it's healing nicely.”

“You're still limping.”

“My ankle is the least of my problems. Where do you think they'll put us now that the hotel is devastated?” The first floor was a black pit, especially where the kitchen had been. While the upper floors had been saved from the fire's ravage they had not been spared from the sprinkler system that had left everything a soggy, dripping mess.

The hectic hours surrounding the kitchen fire had shown people's true nature. Everyone was helping the victims. The management provided free trays of food and fruit and hot coffee they brought from the nearby grocery. Strangers brought blankets, clothes, personal items. It was truly a heartwarming thing to see. The manager appeared. Tired lines around his eyes testified to the past tense hours. Clearing his throat, the short, pudgy man got the crowd's attention. “Best Western wants to assure each guest that they will be taken care of with the utmost expediency, and hotel management deeply appreciates each person's willingness to cooperate. We are trying to locate rooms for every guest, but it's proving to be a difficult goal. Hotels on the island are at their maximum because of conventions and the Skins games this coming weekend. At the moment, kind Lahaina residents are offering to take guests into their homes until other arrangements can be made.”

Tess's gaze switched to Carter. “I don't want to stay with a stranger,” she whispered. It was barely eight o'clock in the morning yet she felt exhausted. She wanted to leave, to be back in her quiet, safe home. But, with the storm approaching, the odds of getting a flight back to the Mainland tonight were slim to impossible, though she certainly intended to try. If she couldn't get out, she was stuck. Stranded in paradise. The absurdity struck her as funny and she supposed lack of sleep was the culprit more than true humor, because the situation was about as humorous as a bubble gum machine in a lockjaw ward.

Carter shook his head. “I don't like the thought either, but it sounds like we have little choice.”

“We will have employees standing by to introduce you to your hosts,” the manager went on. “In the meantime, coffee, tea, and breakfast rolls are being served.”

Tess and Carter got up, milling with the crowd. Young men and women worked their way though the pack, taking names and addresses.

The manager waved to her and Carter as they stood to the side of the fountain. He approached, his ruddy features dark with concern. “Mr. McConnell and Miss Nelson—I am so sorry for this inconvenience. I have a lovely woman who is willing to open her home to you—”