Short Stories -- Time Share

On the desk was an envelope addressed: “Dear Guest.”

“What do you think this is?” she asked.

He had already opened the sliding door to the balcony and was looking longingly out at the surf. “Baby, who cares? Don’t open it,” he said. “Come here instead. A week in Maui. Now shall we make out first or hit the beach?”

…………………………

She waited until he was in the bathroom, got out of bed and slipped into her new bikini top and shorts. She flipped through the Maui Guide the car rental people had given her. Molokini snorkeling trip. Haleakani volcano bicycle ride at dawn. Sunset dinner cruise.

Dear Guest….She took the envelope and went out on the balcony to survey the resort. The hotel was set on 23 acres and designed like the letter E with the points facing the beach. A lawn dotted with palm trees ended in an oasis of lush plumeria, sugar cane, bamboo and hibiscus surrounding a serpentine swimming pool crisscrossed with walkways to “atoll” bars. One could laze in the pool or sit at the bar and watch the ocean waves roaring up the beach.

She opened the envelope and found a small plastic card. It resembled her room card key but had a photo montage of Starwood Hotels on the front. “Come down to the lobby within 24 hours of arrival, show this card -- you could win a Starwood vacation anywhere in the world.”

She slipped on her sandals and had her hand on the door –just as he came out of the bathroom. “Where are you going, sweets?” he asked her.

“Oh, nowhere, I was just going to check where the ice machine was.”

“Down the hall to the left. I saw it when we came in. But we don’t need ice right now. Let’s get to the beach.”

It was like that all day. She was determined to win that vacation but couldn’t get away from him. She fingered the plastic card in her shorts pocket and sighed. She had 24 hours.
……………………

She got up early the next morning, before he was awake, determined to get down to the lobby unnoticed. But there was no one at the Starwood desk. The night clerk was a large sleepy-looking Hawaiian man who after careful perusal of her hotel dossier agreed she was entitled to free vouchers for breakfast and went off to get them—but wouldn’t “swipe” her card to see if she had won, no matter how much she begged and explained about it being her honeymoon. No, she would have to come back at 9 a.m. when the Starwood Vacation Properties hospitality suite officially opened and talk to a hostess and then she could swipe the card, not before.
……………..

“Where were you?” he said, sitting up in bed when the latch on the door slipped and the door clunked shut.

“Just getting the paper and our breakfast vouchers,” she said, plugging in the coffee maker and taking the carafe to the bathroom to fill it with water.

“It’s only 6 a.m., come back to bed.”

“It’s 8 a.m. in Vancouver.”

“Come and snuggle.”

“Let’s get up and do things.”

Married life. No more sleeping in. What was he in for? "Okay, let’s go to the beach. We can take our coffee with us.”

………………………

They came back to their room and saw a red light flashing on the phone. He tensed: “Don’t answer that, it’s probably the office.”

“C’mon, why would it be the office? Nobody knew where we would be going. That’s the whole idea of a honeymoon.” She picked up the phone and he put his arms around her and she held the phone partly to her ear, partly to his.

“Hello, my name is Iris and I’m calling to check that everything is okay with your room. Please stop by the hospitality desk before 4 p.m. to register for a prize draw and hear more about the features of our Starwood Resorts properties.”

“Jeez, they’re after us already. Time shares. We’re staying out of the lobby, for sure.”

“This is a five star resort.”

“Ah, but they have to nab you somehow. They’ve probably been tracking me since college. And those wedding gift registries you signed up for at the various stores? The ones I warned you about? They feed directly into time share companies for sure.”

“Peter, you sound paranoid.”

“Fine—just—don’t—go—into—the—lobby.” He laughed, scooped her up and kissed her. “Tennis, gym or breakfast?”

“Tennis before it gets too hot. The gym is air-conditioned, we can try it out later.”

By the time they’d finished three sets, they were both dripping with sweat. “Boy, it’s hot. Tomorrow, we play earlier, or in the evening. Let’s hit the shower.” When they got to their room, they noticed a card on the door handle with a picture of a happy couple in bathing suits walking along a beach: “We’d like to know your opinion. Free pineapple for all guests who complete a short survey.”

“These people just don’t give up,” he said, opening the door and handing the card to Alicia.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind a pineapple. What do you have to do?” She retrieved the card and turned it over. “Come on down to the Starwood Resorts desk this morning….”

“Alicia, you don’t need a pineapple. You don’t want to mess with these time share people, trust me.”
………………………………………………………..

Breakfast was a full buffet served from 6:30 a.m. till 11 a.m. The quality of food here surpassed that of other Hawaiian buffets, he told her. Eat up, enjoy it, you won’t need lunch. His father had made his money developing condos in Kihei in the 1970s and the family had come every year and stayed in different resorts. Well, until his mother found out about the other woman. Then they stayed in separate resorts and the children shuttled back and forth.

Families dressed fashionably in Polo and Ralph Lauren milled about the omelet station or paused with silver tongs outstretched over platters of pineapple, honeydew melon, and mango. There was smoked salmon, cream cheese, bagels, capers. There was bacon, sausages, ham, hash browns, waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, crepes stuffed with cinnamon apples, granola, yogurt, and six kinds of juice. It was all too much.

She went back to the table. He followed a few minutes later. “You’re not eating much. Just some yogurt? I thought you wanted pineapple?” She shook her head, sipped her coffee. She could get too used to this kind of life. And those kids in Polo looked overfed. As she lifted her napkin off the table to place it in her lap, she noticed the card which had been tucked under the napkin. “Win a free catamaran cruise or helicopter ride. Special draw in the lobby at 2 p.m.”

She showed him the card. He ripped it up with a scowl. “Somebody should put a stop to this. We’re paying premium rate for our stay and they’re hassling us to buy a bloody time share.”

“But nowhere does it mention time share.” She was amused at how annoyed it was making him. “Your dad has connections all over the island, surely he could have got you a discounted rate for our honeymoon.”

“It’s hard to get discounts at Christmas. We got an upgrade on the room at least.” He was glad she was frugal, his partners’ wives seemed to want to outdo each other with the spending.

“Why don’t they mention timeshare on these inducement cards? Isn’t full disclosure mandatory?”

“Because if they did, no one would go down to the lobby.” He stabbed his sausage. Why did women ask so many questions?

“We'll have to go the lobby eventually -- to pay the bill at check out.”

“No, they’ll have Express check out on T.V. like all the other Sheratons.”

“The T.V. will mysteriously stop working”

He had to grin at that. “And the lights will flicker on and off and a voice will come out of the heavens and say: “Get thee to the lobby and watch the Time Share presentation.””

“Is that how they do it?”

She was like a little kid, looking around the dining room, taking everything in eagerly. He felt his momentary irritation passing. “Beats me, I’ve never succumbed. But, actually I’ve got an uncle who used to love to go to time share presentations.”

“Really?” She took the piece of toast he was proffering.

“He’d get these invitations and he’d sign up and go to the presentations and sit through them looking interested and they’d think they had him and then once he’d got his free sleeping bag or his $100 of vouchers for gambling at the casino and dinners in the pricey restaurant, he’d look the prime closer in the eye and say “No thanks, I’d like to look around some more,” and walk out and there was nothing they could do, legally.”

“I bet they hated him,” she said. He was about to pass her the jam but she shook her head.

“I think the others who caved in and signed hated him more.”

“He felt no guilt?”

“Guilt is not a word in Uncle Ron’s vocabulary.”

“Good for him. Maybe we should go to one and see if we can withstand the pressure.”

“No, it’s not worth it. And you’re too soft. You’d buckle right away.”

“But I don’t have any money.”

“No, but you’re married to me now, so they’d come after my money. Well, our money. You don’t need the stress. Stay away from--”

“the lobby.” she finished for him and laughed. Better not tell him she’d decided to take the time share tour the next day. “Okay, to make up for it, you’re going to take me shopping at Whaler’s Village.”

……………………………

The message light on the phone was blinking when they got back.

“Hi, Alicia and Peter, this is Iris from Starwood Vacations. There’s a box of chocolates waiting for you here in the lobby. We entered your room number in the draw and you won. We’re sorry we haven’t had the chance to meet you yet and show—” Peter slammed down the phone. “God, these people. Listen, Alicia, let’s walk along the golf course and go to the Royal Lahaina Hotel. There’s no time-share there, as far as I know. Just good old fashioned hotel hospitality and a parrot. This place is too slick for me.”

“Just let me put some more sunscreen on.” She disappeared into the bathroom then re-emerged. “Are we going to the beach as well?”

“Yes, we’ll take our towels and spend a couple of hours there. Gee, how many bikinis did you bring? Not that I’m complaining or anything….”

“Well, they take ages to dry, I don’t want to have to put them on wet…Hey I thought we were going to the beach?”

“We will, we will, but first….”
………………………….

They walked out the breezeway past the tennis courts, past the parking stall of Dr. Sam Lazar, who never seemed to be actually in, along the golf course, over the little bridge with the fingerling fish darting in the shadows underneath and the big black crabs crawling over the rocks, along the edge of beach fronting the golf course and through the grounds of the Royal Lahaina hotel, a much more modest affair than the Sheraton. In the lobby, Hawaiian women were setting out handcrafted wares: woven baskets and trays, bracelets, and carved tikka figures.

“Wait a minute,” he said, distractedly, “there’s something wrong here.”

“What?”

“The parrot's gone.”

“Where is it usually?”

“In a big cage in the foyer – right here.”

“Well, maybe it’s got the day off.”

He snorted. “Its cage would still be here.”

“Maybe it got liberated to a parrot sanctuary or something.”

“I don't think so. The parrot’s part of the hotel mystique.”

“How long has it been here?”

“Since 1955. My dad stayed here the first time he came to Maui. The hotel had just opened then and the parrot was a big hit. And then we stayed here as kids one time. I would always try and coax dad into staying here instead of down in Kihei because I liked the parrot so much." He smiled, "When we visited, I used to try and teach it things to say about my sister.”

"Like what?"

"Oh, you don't want to know...it kind of backfired because the parrot would only say those things when I was around and that got me into trouble."

"What did your sister do as revenge?"

"Cynthia? Not much. She put a gecko in my bed one time, but that was okay, because then I had a pet for the rest of the holiday. She wanted it back, but of course I said no."

“Sounds just like you. But hey, that would make the parrot about 50 years old. How long do they live anyway?” Before he could answer, she said: “You stay here and I’ll ask about the parrot at the front desk. What was its name?”

“Benji. Parrots can live a hundred years.”

“Benji? That’s a strange name for a parrot.”

“That was its name.”

She went off to the desk and he could see her speaking animatedly to the desk clerk, who shook her head and went in to fetch the manager, an older dignified looking Hawaiian woman who wore half-spectacles and had her hair in a bun. He could see Alicia nodding and the manager looking down the hall at him. He disappeared around the corner and pretended to be looking at a picture of dolphins.

A few minutes later he felt a finger poking him in the back. “You can relax, Benji’s still alive, he’s just not here. This place was bought last year by the Westin chain and Benji’s now in one of the hotels in Wailea. He’s a lot happier there in a three story arboreum rather than in a cage in the lobby here. The Royal Lahaina had to get rid of him as apparently he’d taken to swearing at tourists in Japanese and they were losing too much money with the tour companies.”

“Are you making this up?”

“No, honest. He’s at the Four Seasons in Wailea.” She frowned. “You could say thanks for finding out. Well?”

“Sorry, and thank you.”

“That’s better. Now can we go to the beach?”

“Yes, as soon as I get my pineapple macadamia nut coconut ice cream from the Royal Scoop Ice Cream Parlour. If that’s okay with you.”

“So that’s why you wanted to come here. It wasn’t the parrot at all.”

Storm clouds on the horizon? Hopefully not. “No, I wanted to show you the parrot. But the ice cream is superb. Will you have some?”

“No, I’ll browse in the shop while you eat yours.”

He got his ice cream and checked his email on the kiosk internet booth while she browsed in Aloha Designs and then they headed down the breezeway into the back garden of the hotel which fronted the beach. “Internet access in an ice cream parlour. What will they think of next?” he said, taking her hand.

The fit of pique had passed. She gave his hand a squeeze. “And wireless too, by the day or week. I was reading the flyer. That beats the Sheraton, hands down,” she said.

They were now on a crescent strip of beach that stretched north for another three miles. They walked along the edge of the water, jumping out of the way of the big waves that chased them up the beach from time to time. “Do you surf, Alicia?”

“Hard to surf in Milwaukee.”

“Would you like to learn?”

“Sure, but not on these big waves. Can’t we go somewhere more sheltered?”

“These waves are larger than usual -- for this time of year. I’m not sure why. But there’s a more protected beach just south of Lahaina. We’ll go tomorrow and you can take lessons -- or there’s a Beach Activities Hut near the Hyatt Regency that looks good. I’ve seen a lot of kids learning there.”

“Okay.”

They walked in silence for awhile, hand in hand, watching the waves, nodding to people heading along the beach in the opposite direction, laughing at two little white dogs scampering along the sand. “I’ve seen these dogs before, I think the owner must live somewhere nearby,” he said. “There’s a parking lot and public access to the beach in about 100 feet.” Sure enough, they soon passed an older woman with grey hair who was swinging two leashes as she walked along. “Must be great, living here, taking walks on the beach every day,” he said.

“Hey, what’s that noise?” Over the sounds of the crashing surf, they could hear the thin whine of chainsaws in the distance. They kept walking, looking at each other in puzzlement. They were on a wilder part of beach now, with the water roaring up the beach twenty feet. Trees with blackened trunks pushed out over the narrow strip of sand they were walking on; vines dangled from the branches overhead. They had to clamber between the trunks to escape the tide racing up to their ankles.

“Construction up ahead,” she said. “I’m surprised there’s any undeveloped land left along the beach.”

“Let’s go take a look.”

They turned the corner and a massive development came into view. It was beautifully landscaped and had a series of pools and waterfalls in a central garden area overlooking the beach. One building had been completed while its twin was still a concrete shell and that was the side that the chainsaw noises had been coming from. A sign said: Westin Oceanfront Beach Condominiums.

“This is posh -- wait a minute, Peter, what are those people doing?”

They could see a group of about twenty adults trotting in formation behind a man wearing a red Hawaiian shirt and shorts and carrying a clipboard. He was pointing to the beach and then back at the building and the people were nodding. The group was looking longingly at the pool area where a buffet breakfast had been set out. The red shirted man seemed oblivious to the buffet however. He led them over to a large scale model and began pointing out units and pointing up to the unfinished building.

Peter dropped the towels in the sand and pulled Alicia a few steps forward till they were behind a tree: “They’d better not catch us here.”

“Why? We’re not trespassing, are we?”

“No, I don’t think so. But that, my dear, is the Westin Oceanfront Beach Condo chain gang. See the ankle shackles? We’d better hide.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“If we move, they’ll see us. We’ll wait until they go in for the tour of the five floor plans and then we’ll high tail it down the beach.”

They waited, they watched. The group had finished the talk and was still casting glances at the food, obviously ready for the promised late morning breakfast. But no, now they had to endure a tour of the premises or something. They were being herded towards the first display suite.

“The guy in the blue shirt is up to something.” Peter said.

They watched as a man at the end of the line dawdled as the others went into the display suite. He bent down as if to tie his shoe and then suddenly made a mad dash towards the beach. He ran right past Peter and Alicia.

“Here, hide behind the tree.” Peter grabbed the man by the arm as he went flying past and the man slid into the shallow depression beside them, like he was making first base. “I don’t think Red Shirt saw you.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about, it’s my wife. But she can’t sign anything binding without my co-signature, so I suppose I’m safe for the moment. My name’s Grant.” said their new companion. He was a lanky man with curly blonde hair, blue eyes, and a large nose.

“I’m Peter, and this is my fiancé, I mean, my wife Alicia. I have to practice saying that. We’ve only been married two days.”

Grant nodded and shook hands with both of them: “Congrats. Do stay away from these time share people, though. They’d love to sink their teeth into newlyweds.”

Peter nodded. “That’s what I’ve been telling Alicia here since we arrived. This island appears to be booby trapped with them.”

“It’s taken on a whole new twist. At the Westin, they used to just invite you down to the pool area for a continental breakfast—dry muffins and watered down pineapple juice and coffee-- and they’d pass out brochures and use flip charts. But now they’re trying to lure people in with fabulous prizes and catamaran cruises and they’ve given up on flip charts in favour of slick videos. Try getting away from these guys. They’re at every beach corner, they’re waiting by the pool, I swear they’ve got the guest rooms tapped, they’re desperate to make a sale. Stay away. Be very afraid.” Grant aimed these last words at Alicia and then grinned to take the sting out of it.

"Really? I was thinking of taking the tour tomorrow. I chatted to a fellow at the pool this morning when I was coming back from getting our breakfast vouchers," she said by way of explanation to Peter. She continued quickly so that he couldn’t interrupt: "How do you know all this, Grant?"

Grant paused and then said: "I'm a real estate developer for a multinational company. I know it probably sounds strange me being on a tour of a timeshare property, but they're seriously undercutting our business, and the local office needed someone to snoop around. I'm from out of town, so they flew me in with my wife to investigate, have a look around. I probably shouldn't be telling you all this, but you seem like nice people. This is one property you don't want to get involved in."

Peter had got himself under control. No time share tours for Alicia. But he’d deal with her later, in private. "My father is in real estate with Sun Ventures. They did quite a few of the properties in Kihei. Ralph Edwards. He got out before these time shares started taking over, however."

"Oh, yes, I've heard the name. I suppose I shouldn't dawdle or my wife Bernice will find me here."

“Well, perhaps you can make a dash down the beach now while they’re viewing the suites before she figures out you're gone.” said Alicia.

“Not a bad idea, Alicia.” Peter said, picking up their towels. “Grant, you go first. I’ll cover you.” Grant took a look around the tree, nodded, then ran down the beach about 50 feet and waved to Alicia to follow him.

She jumped up and, holding her sandals, ran as fast as she could. She crouched behind the sand dune with Grant. Unfortunately, a big wave roared up the beach and knocked them both over. They crawled up the sand, spluttering. One of Alicia’s sandals was floating in the surf.

Peter came running towards them carrying the towels, taking great strides as if he were clearing hurdles. He veered right, leaped into the sea, retrieved Alicia’s sandal, ran back up the beach ahead of the tide, hauled both of them to their feet and shouted “C’mon, c’mon.” Other people on the beach stared at them curiously.

They followed him. They ran madly all the way past the Royal Lahaina until they reached the Eldorado Suites Beach Cabana. Seeing Grant fading a bit, Peter slowed the pace to a canter and then a walk. Eventually he held up his hand and they halted and grinned sheepishly at each other. Peter presented Alicia her sandal, as if it were a glass slipper. He draped a beach towel around her shoulders.

She curtseyed: “So, gentlemen, do we keep running all the way to Whaler’s Village and turn ourselves in for admission to the local psychiatric ward or just sashay nonchalantly into the spa at the Hyatt and hide in the thalassotherapy room for a few hours until they’ve stopped looking for us?”

“I think we find a table at one of the bars at the Sheraton and hide our faces behind the large menus of tropical drinks. If I see anyone looking like Red Shirt, I’ll whistle softly and you can create a disturbance by dancing the hula while Grant escapes.”

“Sounds good to me.” Grant said. “Only problem is that your wife and I are both soaking wet. They may not want us in their refined bar, getting the rattan chairs damp, you know.”

Peter handed Grant the other hotel beach towel. “Good point. Let’s go to our rooms and if they’re not under surveillance, we can change outfits. Like they do in the movies.”

“What movies?” Alicia said.

“Didn’t you see ‘Bird on A Wire?’ Goldie Hawn was always changing her clothes.”

“I only had eyes for Mel…” she murmured, dreamily.

“What?”

“Oh, sorry. That was before I met you, of course.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss him and he hugged her and they swayed together.

“Now I know why they don't let newlyweds on Survivor. Talk, talk. Smooch, smooch. You’d never get anything productive done. Let’s go, kids.” Grant led the way.
…………………….

Back they went, along the beach past the golf course, the bridge over the crabs and fingerling fish, the Sheraton parking lot full of rental cars. Just then an open air wooden trolley bus pulled up and half of the passengers got off. A familiar face and clipboard appeared: Red Shirt. A woman wearing a green dress, matching visor and sandals was pulling at his arm and pointing north across the golf course.

“We’re sunk now,” Grant said, slipping behind a large power box, “that’s Bernice, my wife.” Peter shook his head and leaned over and whispered in his ear. Grant nodded. Peter led Grant and Alicia on a circuitous route through the cleaner’s hallways and up the back stairs to their room, opened it and ushered them inside.

“Alicia, you change first.” Peter said. “Grant, you can come and sit on the balcony with me and have a beer. The chairs aren’t rattan, they’re plastic web.”

Alicia chose a sundress from the closet and went into the bathroom. She turned the shower on but didn’t get in. Instead, she got dressed, transferred the contents of her shorts pockets to her dress pocket, and eased out of the suite, being careful this time not to let the door slam. Freedom, at last. She had one hour left. There was only one thing to do. She headed for the front desk.

Grant followed Peter to the balcony. "Binoculars? You just got married. Doesn't your wife object?"

Peter ignored the jibe. "We heard there might be whales just off Black Rock. So far, we haven't seen any -- but Alicia did see some dolphins yesterday evening."

"Can I have a look?"

"Sure."

"No whales that I can see."

"It's rather hot up here with the sun coming straight at us."

"Why don't we go down to the pool and have a beer there?"

"Okay."

"Bring the binoculars and maybe you'll see the whales."

The shower was still running. Peter rapped on the door. "Alicia, we're going down to the pool, it's too hot on the balcony, meet us there, okay?"

There was no answer but she was hard of hearing so he didn't think twice about it.

………………………

At the bar, after they'd ordered two Heineken, Peter looked Grant in the eye. "You're not a real estate developer, are you?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Back at the timeshare property, I said my dad worked for Sun Ventures. There's no such thing as Sun Ventures. Everyone in real estate knows my dad, knows how he started Kihei Developments. It's a multimillion dollar company. "

Grant didn't flinch: "You're right. I flubbed that test, I guess."

"So what are you doing here?"

Grant looked around to see if anyone was in earshot. "I'm a forensic accountant. So is Bernice. She's not really my wife. We're trying to get some information on this development. Our sources tell us it's owned by the mob."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"We could use you and Alicia to get some information."

"No, I don't want Alicia in any danger. And besides, for all I know, you could be some scam artist."

Grant made a show of pulling out his wallet and putting a twenty down on the table. He put his beer glass on top of it. He discreetly tilted his open wallet at Peter. There was a Internal Revenue ID card with his picture inside. It certainly looked real.

"Sorry, Fred."

"No, it's okay, it's good that you're careful. Keep calling me Grant, though, if you don't mind."

"So fleeing from the time share tour was an excuse to bump into Alicia and me, a well orchestrated ruse."

"Oh, no, that was a lucky coincidence. But we had checked you out at the airport when we heard you were coming to this resort. Clean history, Canadian, innocent enough. And before you went into divorce law, you worked in a prosecutor's office for one summer. So you're on the right side. We thought you'd be great cover."

"If the mob owns this place, I want no part of it. But why would they be in Maui running a resort?"

"It's not just this resort, it's the whole Ka'anapali region, they own it all.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No, I’m not. Prime real estate, every association has to have perks for its members you know. Apparently one of the bosses’ wives got snubbed at some reception a while back, and then another couldn't book a wedding for her daughter when word leaked out who her husband was. They complained, the organization bought the place out."

"Then why are they letting tourists stay here?"

"Why not? They have legit businesses as well. But something's going down tonight. I'd make dinner plans elsewhere if I were you. Some mob boss's daughter getting hitched. I saw the decorating trucks arriving when we were hiding behind that power box.”

"Okay, thanks for the tip."

"Will you think it over, consider doing a timeshare tour for us? You'd be well paid for it."

"Absolutely not."

"Okay." Grant shrugged and took another sip of beer. "You won't repeat this stuff to anyone?"

"Course not." Peter looked back at the resort. The garden of Eden. With a very big snake. He'd make some excuse to Alicia, get them out of there and down to Kihei. Or Wailea. Good old Benji. His dad could help with the reservation, pull a few strings at the Four Seasons. He looked up at the open air resort lobby. A flash of green. "What's that?" He pointed to the lobby.

Grant picked up the binoculars, gazed intently at the lobby.

"Is that Bernice in green up there?" Peter asked.

"Yes." Grant said.

"What's she doing?"

“Can't tell. But it wasn’t part of the plan. Hey, your wife is up there too.”

“What do you mean? My wife is in the shower.”

“Well, her twin sister’s at the time share desk talking to Bernice.”

“What?”

“Here, take a look.”

Peter put his beer down, took the binoculars and focused on the open air lobby across from him. Sure enough, Alicia was talking to Bernice. He saw her lay a hand comfortingly on the older woman’s arm and then walk over to a woman in a Hawaiian dress seated at a table. He saw her pass something to the woman. The woman swiped it through what seemed to be a card reader. Peter groaned. “Oh no. I’m doomed. We’ve got to do something. She’s unwittingly enrolling in a time share.”
……………………….

A little crowd had gathered around Alicia as she sat in a wicker chair at the hospitality desk with her large box of chocolates and pineapple, filling out a questionnaire. Everyone else wanted in on the action and they were scrambling to find enough pens and clipboards. The time share hostess was smiling and passing out individual one-serving packages of chocolate macadamia nuts on a silver tray.

The phone rang at the hospitality desk. A husky voice said “I need to speak to that woman in the lavender sundress sitting opposite you. It’s quite urgent.” The hostess passed the phone to Alicia: “Someone wants to talk to you.”

“Hello, who is this?” Alicia said.

“A friend from Time Shares Anonymous. There’s a meeting tonight at 7 p.m. Now make some excuse and get out of there as quickly as possible. And don't sign anything....”

“What? Peter is that you? Why are you talking funny like that?” She listened intently for a reply…..but the line had gone dead.
…………

“Why did you tackle me like that? I nearly fell out of the chair.” Peter rubbed his elbow and took a swallow of beer.

“What did you start on about Time Shares Anonymous for? Now they’ll trace the call and have security after us.” Grant said, picking the binoculars up off the pool deck.

“Nonsense. Alicia always does everything I tell her. She’ll be out of there in a jiff.”

Grant looked through the binoculars. “Sorry to tell you this, bud, but she’s not moving. She’s reading some papers. And she’s got a pen in her hand.”

“What? I’m going over there right now. Are you coming or not?”
……………………………………….

Alicia wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t want to annoy Peter by lingering at the time share desk, but she had to sign the papers or she wouldn’t get her prize. And what a prize it was. To think that she, who had never won anything substantial in her life (other than fish fertilizer at a garden contest when she was thirteen) had just won a $10,000 vacation to any Starwood property in the world. But there was so much small print to read. She had a pang of doubt. What if it really was a scam? She should show it to Peter, he was a lawyer, he would know what to do. Plus he was her husband so she had to take his wishes into account. Love, honour and obey. Well, maybe not obey. She could use a vacation.

Just then the phone rang again. She snatched it up before Aluwalu, the time share hostess, could interfere. “Alicia, get out of that chair immediately and don’t sign anything. I’ll meet you with the car at the exit from the parkade next to the front desk. We’re getting out of here now.” Click.

Alicia looked at the gold pen in her hand. She looked at the papers. She looked at Aluwalu. Her eyes filled with tears. She gulped. She stood up slowly. She was married now. She was no longer a free woman. And she had to meet her husband at the parkade.

Crack. She heard a pistol shot. And then another. The guests in the lobby panicked. Several threw themselves to the ground or clambered under the mahogany desks and tables in the foyer. Two women screamed and clung to each other. A man started yelling: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Several men ran down the open stairway towards the ground floor restaurant. One came back up the stairs, grabbed a woman by the hand and then fled again. A security guard in a blue uniform ran up the stairs brandishing a gun. He paused, looked around, and then, inexplicably, ran down the opposite stairway. Other guests ran out of the foyer towards the driveway entrance. The people hiding under the tables crawled away down the stairs.

At moments like this, your whole life is supposed to flash before your eyes. In fact, things slow down and moments seem like eternity. Alicia slid back down in the chair. The hostess had vanished. Bernice had vanished too. Alicia was alone. Worse, she was sure she had been shot. She felt a sharp pain in her chest, as if multiple fishhooks had plunged into her chest. She looked down and realized she was clutching the pineapple. She put it down on the desk but then picked it up again and cradled it in her arm. She looked around the lobby trying to orient herself. A large bouquet of heart-shaped balloons was drifting towards her, a small brown teddy bear at its base, the teddy bumping along the stone floor with one furry paw outstretched behind it as if trying to stop its trajectory. It was at once grotesque, pathetic and surreal.

She knew she had to get out of there. It was obvious the place was under siege. She’d watched “The Sopranos” enough times with Peter to know this was some version of a turf war, or -- or maybe a surf war. But, even if she was about to die, she had to deal with the issue at hand. She had to assert her individuality, even if it was for the last time. She picked up the fountain pen and, with a flourish, signed her name.

She looked up to see a luggage rack careening across the lobby. Peter was on it, lying on his belly, leaning forward on his forearms like some sort of giant praying mantis, his arms forming a V and both hands grasping the pole, his long legs sticking out behind him. She could hear him, as if from far away, shouting at her: “Alicia, Alicia.”

She saw what he didn’t see: the luggage rack was headed straight for a broad stairwell; if he tumbled down it, he would surely break his neck. How to stop the thing? “Peter, get off before you fall.” She lunged at the rack as it passed and managed to grab the brass pole. It nearly dragged her with it, but it slowed and spun in a half-circle around her as she staggered to hold it with one hand and grab the top of the staircase banister for balance with her other hand. The pineapple bounced unheeded. Peter had put his foot out, creating a drag that slowed him down, but the rack was now teetering, was going to tip. She tried to hook him with one foot; she missed and her foot raked empty air. He was going to go down.

No, he had heard her and managed to throw himself clear and log-roll towards one of the desks. Just in time, because with the backward thrust of his jettison, the rack started to topple. She let go before it pulled her down after it. She crumpled to the floor. She wanted to crawl towards Peter but she couldn’t move. She swooned.

It was only seconds. She came to and felt something bumping against her back. She opened her eyes. A paper ribbon with a red fragment of balloon dragged across her cheek and with a convulsive hop the teddy bear landed on the other side of her. She reached out, wincing as the arm movement flexed muscles under scraped flesh. There was a note, a sort of scroll, tied to the teddy’s neck. The breeze stirred again and the teddy bear skittered away from her.

“Alicia.” The praying mantis was sliding one arm under her neck, about to bite. No, it was Peter, patting her neck and spine, making sure she hadn’t broken anything, yes, that was right, he had been a lifeguard at one point, and he knew first aid. She relaxed. She wanted him to kiss her, right there on the floor.

But he didn’t. Instead he was trying to lift her up. “Alicia, you could have broken your neck, what are you doing? Let’s get out of here.” She pointed at the parachute teddy which was tangled in its ribbons by the desk. So sad. Peter rolled his eyes, laid her back down on the floor, crawled over to the bear, whipped out a pocket knife, cut the ribbons, sheathed his knife. She turned on her side, watching him, still feeling weak. Summoning all her strength, she managed to snare the pineapple with her foot. She was just sliding a hand down to reach for it when suddenly there was another pistol shot.

Peter jerked involuntarily at the sound. Alicia was relieved to see he wasn’t bleeding. He passed her the teddy. She grabbed for the pineapple and clutched it to her chest beside the little bear. The balloons, finally free of their burden, were bobbing on the ceiling, inching towards freedom through the open windows of the foyer. She was pointing at them now, understanding at last, but Peter ignored her, scooped her up unceremoniously and carried her out of the foyer, clutching her teddy bear and pineapple, towards his waiting car.

She took one last desperate look into the foyer over Peter’s shoulder, hoping the quickening breeze wouldn’t scatter the pages of the contract she had signed. As she did so, she saw the balloons gathering strength to scale the window sill. One more gust, and they were free, sailing out the window somewhere over the resort.

They reached the car. Peter opened the door and thrust her into the passenger’s seat. He jumped into the driver’s seat of the silver convertible and reached over to secure the shoulder strap for her. He eased out of the driveway, inched over the speed bumps and then at the base of the hill, made a sharp right. The car picked up speed along Ka’anapali Parkway. They whizzed past the golf course, Whaler’s Village. She thought he’d make a turn onto the highway but he continued right, onto Nohea Kai Drive.

“Peter, what did you do about Grant? Is he still in our room?”

“No, he was supposed to go tackle you in the lobby while I got the car. Did you see him?”

“No, I saw Bernice though. I wonder where she went? I hope they’re okay.”

“I hope they didn’t get shot. I guess I should have looked for them, but my main responsibility was to rescue you.” He slowed the car, pulled over to the curb, and gave her a passionate kiss.

She struggled to free herself from his embrace, so she could explain. “Oh Peter, those weren’t gun shots, those were balloons exploding, probably from the heat. I saw the fragments when I was lying on the floor.”

He smiled at her. She was so innocent. They really had been gunshots, but why worry her? Thank goodness, Grant had warned him about the mob. He kissed her again.

Finally she pulled away. What was he saying? Something romantic?

“Alicia, I hope you didn’t sign that time share form.”

A delicious thrill went through her as she remembered the fabulous prize she'd won. Should she tell him now? She looked at him. No, she’d have to explain about winning the contest later. Maybe in bed.

“Of course I didn't sign up for a time share, Peter. I did want to go on the tour but Bernice thought it wasn't a good idea."

“Nor do I because we're not buying one. Certainly not in Ka'anapali. Oh, Alicia, what did you do to your arm? It’s all scraped.”

“That was me trying to rescue you.”

“I’m sorry. Thank you for rescuing me. But I can take care of myself, you know. We’d better go to a drugstore and get some antiseptic and bandages for you.”

“I’m okay, it’s just a scrape.”

“Well, we’ll get some supplies at Rite-Aid just in case. Say, how about we go for a drive and check out the Four Seasons in Wailea for dinner? Say hi to Benji, make a night of it. Would you like that?” Once she saw the place, she wouldn't mind changing hotels, he was sure. Someone could pack up the luggage, send it over in the morning. A lot safer in the long run.

"That will be super." Alicia couldn't help smiling. The Four Seasons had a contest too. Win a Day at the Spa. She’d read about in the Island Guidebook that morning. She stroked the teddy's head.

"What did you want the teddy for?"

"The nursery."

They'd only been married forty eight hours.

She saw his face. "I was just kidding, Peter! You've known me two years. Can't you tell yet when I'm kidding?"

"No, I'm still learning, I guess.”

“There’s a lot to learn about being married. That’s why they have honeymoons.”

“I guess. I’m afraid to ask why you wanted the pineapple."

"Oh, that was just to eat. That was kind of exciting, the way you rescued me."

"Our first adventure. Happy with it?"

"Yes."

"So am I."