Chapter 2

It was hot. Not Southern California hot. More torrid, like from the depths of Hades, hot. It made Charles wish he’d opted for Bermuda shorts and a t-shirt instead of his business suit and tie. He hadn’t really thought it through, how fucking humid it would be in Fiji, which was not surprising, given that his brain was ninety percent focused on business, a hundred percent of the time.

He made his way to the taxi stand, dragging his luggage behind him, hoping that an air conditioned car would be available to take him to the transfer station. He was told it was about 4 miles from the Nadi International Airport. From there, he could catch his flight to his destination via seaplane.

He was traveling to a private island to research a location for a resort his company was planning to build. The South Pacific was booming. Up until recently, much of the area catered to the very wealthy, but his company, looking to diversify, was planning on building an all inclusive resort that was both enticing and affordable for middle income travelers. They were a lucrative demographic. His company was successful because it followed the money, and the travel industry was exploding.

He could have sent someone else but he didn’t, for three reasons. One, he was on a much needed break, so while it was a working vacation, it was also only a three on the stress scale, a business trip that he could blend with a little R&R. Given the chaos of his life, a three was as good as a zero. His doctor would be pleased.

At 45, Charles was saddled with a few health problems, all of which were stress related. Nine months earlier, he’d suffered a mild heart attack which scared the shit out of him. He took it easy for a month or so, but gradually the demands of work, once again, took precedence over his health. It was hard to avoid, seeing that he was the founder and CEO of a multi-billion dollar corporation. Needless to say, he was pulled in a million directions.

“Sir, can I help you?” a young porter called out, waving him over. Charles, waved back and quickly approached the podium where the young man was posted.

“Hi there,” he greeted, loosening his tie, “I need a shuttle to the docks of Island Air Transfer?”

“Yes sir, what time is your flight scheduled?”

“Scheduled?”

“Yes, yes. Did you pre-book your transfer?” the porter asked, picking up his clip board. “What is your name, sir?”

“Charles Reid. It’s doubtful that a pre-booking was scheduled. I was told that I could just go to the main office at the docks and get on a transfer flight once I arrived?” Charles insisted nervously, uncomfortable that things might not go as planned. He should have known better.

“It’s possible, but unlikely. The airlines are tracking a large tropical storm system that’s due to make landfall in a few days. It’s created quite a sense of urgency with travelers. The chances of you getting on a flight without pre-booking is slim,” the porter advised, looking up from his notes. “Perhaps you could go back inside the airport and use the complimentary wifi to book a transfer? You may be lucky and get one for tomorrow?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Charles argued, the heat suddenly even more unbearable. “Can you please double check the list, just in case?”

It was unlikely his name was on it, because Charles had booked the trip himself, insisting he could handle it when his personal assistant offered to take care of everything. Charles wanted anonymity on the trip, and some much needed privacy. The second reason he was traveling solo was that he didn’t want anyone to know the location of the property he was researching. He was certain there was a mole in his company, a rodent selling information to his competitors, and he wasn’t taking any chances. This location was a well guarded secret, and for good reason. It was prime real estate, soon to be on the market, and he was the first to see it.

“Sorry, I don’t see your name Mr. Reid. Please, go back inside the airport, sir, please. The longer you delay, the harder it will be to find a flight.”

Charles nodded his assent, albeit miserably, and stepped out of the way. He hated being at the mercy of fate, and a tropical storm definitely threw a wrench into his plans. He quickly made his way back into the airport, grateful for the cool air. Although it seemed stuffy when he waded through customs earlier, it was definitely more refreshing than the air outside.

He found a seat and fished his cell phone out of his jacket, turning it off airplane mode and quickly connecting to Wifi. Within several minutes he found the website for Island Air Transfer and tried to reserve the next available flight. To his dismay, they appeared to be booked solid. After several attempts, he grumbled to himself and dialed their number, hoping that a real person could offer him better news.

They didn’t. After ten minutes of calmly persuading, pleading, and coaxing, he was no better off than when he started. They couldn’t help him.

“Sir, may I make a suggestion?” the pleasant, young woman on the other end of the line offered.

“Please.”

“You could try an independent transfer company. I dare say, that might be your best bet. Most of the commercial companies are booked because of the storm. It will probably be expensive though,” she warned, oblivious to whom she was speaking.

Charles smiled broadly, pleased to be making progress. The last thing he needed was to delay his business. Once he got to the island, he could check out the site, and then relax with his hosts in luxury.

“Sweetheart, that’s a fine idea. Do you think you can make a few recommendations for me?”

It took a few tries, but Charles was finally able to book a seat on a privately owned, eight seater, Cessna Grand Caravan. The only flight time available was the next day at 18:00 hours (6:00 pm, to non-military folk), weather permitting of course. He actually spoke to the pilot himself, who aside from his grumpy demeanor, was actually quite helpful. True to the clerk’s promise, it was expensive, particularly because he was booking the last available seat, apparently on any flight, any where in the Fiji Islands. He was to meet Captain Grant at the docks no later than 17:00. If he was late, he would leave him behind. No worries there, Charles prided himself on punctuality.

Although the flight would set him back a day, he was satisfied with his itinerary, confident that he would have plenty of time to take care of business and still have several days to rest. He was just grateful he’d found a flight. What was he worried about? he thought. Fate always had his back.

* * *

He was able to book a suite at the Novotel Nadi. It wasn’t a five star, but his room was spacious and clean and they did offer a shuttle service from the airport, and another to the docks the next day. Seemed like a win-win. It had been a long day, but he wasn’t complaining. As far as traveling went, he’d been pretty pampered. The nearly twelve hour, first class flight would have been almost unbearable in coach. As it was, he had plenty of room to stretch out, and wanted for nothing. In spite of it being only 10:00 am, the only things he wanted were a full breakfast, a hot shower, and a long nap.

He picked up the phone and ordered room service, then jumped into the shower, with the promise that his meal would arrive within thirty minutes. He was never thrilled with the idea of going to the buffet by himself. In spite of his extensive traveling experience, he was rarely alone. He was accustomed to having at least a few people by his side, even if they were only staff or colleagues, and he preferred it that way. He liked company, especially in public. It kept him from dwelling on his loneliness.

Charles quickly washed his dark hair, then soaped up his toned body, grateful to rid himself of perspiration and the stale stench of travel. He wasn’t in bad shape considering he was forced to cut his work out routine in half, but certainly not as cut as he was in his thirties. Still, he didn’t have much to complain about. Genetics had been kind to him. He did have salt through his pepper hair, but thankfully he still had most of it. He looked and felt ten years younger than he was, aside from his tender ticker, and as long as he focused on reducing stress, he could live a relatively normal life. At least that’s what his doctor promised.

It was strange being single. He never planned, or wanted it, that way. He’d always imagined himself married with children. Unfortunately, none of his marriages ever resulted in offspring, aside from an ungrateful step-daughter from his last wife. She was a thankless, spoiled, young woman who took after her mother. That divorce ended up costing him a small fortune, but it was worth every penny to send them packing. In the three years they were married, his ex tried to embezzle millions from his company, with the help of daughter dearest. He was a patient and generous man, so their betrayal really threw him for a loop. If he was being honest, it might have been the fissure that finally broke his heart. It wasn’t long after the divorce papers were signed that he found himself in the ER, clutching his chest.

She had not been the only disappointment in his life. He had a knack for picking the wrong women, if three ex wives was evidence of that. Of course, he wasn’t solely blaming them, he wasn’t perfect either. Far from it. He was rarely home and spent way too much time building his empire, somehow trying to find his worthiness in a pile of money. It took a heart attack for him to start looking at his life, really dissecting it, to recognize that he wasn’t content. He had so many regrets and needed to start focusing on the things that made him happy, even if he didn’t have a clue where to begin .

That was the third reason for the trip. He was hoping the solitude, the time away from the chaos of his life, would offer some sort of divine guidance. An intervention if you will.

Life was too damn short.