The Sea Grape Tree Read Online Free Page A

“Hell, I couldn’t wait to get out of New York when I retired. Like I said, I’d started scouting for a place to live before I moved down. Then I found Largo and decided I wanted to run a hotel here.”
    â€œAnd a hurricane wiped it out, Cameron told me.”
    â€œYeah, sank the land connecting it to the main road. I swam to shore in the middle of it, from there to there, close to where my bar is now.” They both gazed at the bar. Even from this distance it was embarrassing, the thatched roof Simone’s rent money had paid for already looking shabby.
    Caines clapped his hands. “At least you didn’t fold up your tent and run back to the States.”
    â€œYou mean, with my tail between my legs.”
    â€œThe bar was a good idea.”
    â€œShad’s idea,” Eric said, nodding. He’d always liked to give people their due; it took the responsibility off you, anyway.
    â€œI like Shad,” Cameron said. “He’s a straight-up kind of guy. I’m glad you’re thinking of making him a partner. We’ll need someone from the community, someone who know the lay of the land.” A twist of St. Croix had slipped into the man’s language, like he was feeling more at ease.
    â€œSince we’re both foreigners, we’ll need a local partner, anyway.”
    â€œThe island,” Caines said, turning to it. “The report said it might be leased to a Horace—I can’t remember his name—for a campsite.”
    â€œHorace MacKenzie, Miss Mac’s son, our lawyer. He wants the right to lease it from us in exchange for doing all our legal work, free of charge. He jumped on the campsite idea.”
    â€œNot a bad idea, passive income for us.”
    Eric looked down at his old, sandy toes. He saw Joseph’s handsome profile outlined by the dim light coming from the bar. “My son and I were sitting on my verandah one night and he brought it up.” Joseph had asked if Simone had lived in a tent on the island. It had made him think of camping, he’d said, and of using the island as a campsite.
    Caines stood slowly, easing his shorts away from his thighs. “When can we go and see the contractor?”
    â€œLambert Delgado? He’s away for a couple days, but he gets back at the end of the week.”
    â€œAnd I’ll talk to Miss Mac about the property.”
    â€œI think she’ll sell,” Eric said. “Ready to head back?”
    â€œI’m going to stay here awhile.”
    â€œIf there’s anything else . . .”
    The visitor’s face remained blank and Eric started back toward the bar. When he got to the brow of a hill, he looked back at Caines, now standing shoeless and sockless on the sand. He was stripping off his T-shirt, followed by his shorts and his briefs. With hardly an ounce of fat on him, he stood still for a few seconds, an Afro-Greek sculpture. Then he waded into the foam, the waves crashing around his legs and thighs, dove into an oncoming wave, and disappeared.
    Just when Eric began to worry, he popped up farther out and swung around to face the shore, his upturned face gleaming with joy, a man returning to his roots—the hotel an excuse to do it.

CHAPTER THREE
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    A n icy winter evening and darkness had descended earlier than usual, forcing the city’s residents into the warmth of pubs and homes. Sarah rushed up the stairs to the flat without turning on the passageway light, feeling her way to the keyhole.
    â€œHello, lovely,” she called when she got the door open.
    â€œHello, not working tonight?” her flatmate shouted from the lounge. A television woman was announcing casualties in an earthquake.
    â€œNo, I have to finish packing.”
    In her bedroom, Sarah changed into pajamas, drew on a dressing gown, and looked around the room, deciding what to tackle first. She stepped over a pack of new paintbrushes to examine the overflowing suitcase on