Read Online The Sea Grape Tree by Gillian Royes - Free Book Online

more like an entrepreneur than an island man returning home. His business acumen clearly went deeper than that of a human resource manager of a paper company. Although running the inn had taught Eric one or two things (he’d called his bumps in the road the school of hard rocks ),he was just getting the hang of it when the hurricane had come along and school was out.
    After Caines took his first sip of rum, Eric put his hand on the business proposal. “Speaking of Horace—we need to talk to him about how the campsite is going to get water and electricity. We thought we might negotiate—”
    â€œThere’s no water on the island?” Caines said, leaning forward, eyebrows high.
    â€œThere’s nothing but—walls. The hurricane destroyed the pipes running out there.”
    â€œIt has to have water.” The investor’s voice dropped an octave. “Does Horace know?” He frowned at the island, dimly outlined by the three-quarter moon rising over the water.
    â€œWe never discussed it.”
    â€œIf I were him, I’d want some kind of infrastructure. Who’s going to pay for that?”
    Eric cleared his throat. “About the electricity, I thought we could—”
    â€œWe can use solar power,” Caines interrupted. “All the sunshine here, it shouldn’t be a problem. Expensive as hell to install, though.”
    â€œI was thinking solar, too.”
    â€œWe’d have to add that on to the budget, though,” Danny snorted, twisting his upper lip.
    Ten minutes later, the bar owner departed for his apartment, mulling his partnership with Caines. Several things were becoming clear. First, the man would argue for every penny he had to borrow or spend. Second, there was nothing about building this hotel that was going to be a cakewalk. And third, Caines was sounding more and more like a man who wouldn’t think twice about dragging someone into court. Eric sighed and tuned the radio to his favorite Havana station.

CHAPTER SEVEN
----

    T he big man slid onto the bar stool opposite, scowling brows low over his eyes.
    â€œAnother rum, Mistah Caines?” Shad asked.
    â€œYeah—and call me Danny.”
    Shad turned the radio dial, cutting off the strident soca with a woman singer describing the grinding of cocoa beans for her man’s breakfast (complete with panting between grinds), and found a soft country and western with a woman crying over a heartless man.
    â€œWhy you turn off the good-good music?” Tri called from the far end of the bar counter where he’d been arguing with Eli about Kingston politicians.
    â€œPshaw, man,” Shad said, grabbing the bottle of Appleton rum. “Too much grinding make a person stupid.” And only served to remind him of his own lack of grinding, Beth’s body being off-limits, at least for the time being.
    â€œI saw you running on the beach this morning,” he said to Danny as he placed the drink in front of him. “Look like you enjoying Largo.”
    â€œIt’s beautiful.” Danny sipped and licked his lips. “But I don’t like surprises.”
    â€œYou get a surprise?” Shad said, keeping the smile bright to fight off the sinking feeling in his stomach.
    â€œYeah, I need to put more money into the budget for water and solar panels on the island.”
    After he’d gotten a round of drinks for a distant table, Shad settled down on his bartender’s stool. “Why Horace can’t help with the cost of the solar panels?” he asked.
    â€œIt’s not his property.”
    â€œMaybe he can put up some money, and we can take it off the rent, slow like—you know, not all at once. That way he have to rent the island a long time to get back his money.”
    â€œPossible, possible,” Danny said, and looked up at Shad. “So how come you all didn’t think of this before?”
    â€œWe was waiting for you to come down. We