Ayers’s parents, Phil Wilson and Sunny Ray, are the proud owners of a two-bedroom time-share at the Westin; they’re banking their weeks for when the baby comes. They arrive back from a seven-stop jaunt through the Caribbean—Bequia was their favorite, no surprise there—and immediately start planning a summer trip to Croatia. (Everyone raves about the city of Split.) Sunny decides that, instead of pretending to write a travel blog, she will write a travel blog. She calls it Love, Mimi. The blog takes an epistolary form; the entries are descriptive, evocative travel letters from grandmother to grandchild. As soon as Sunny’s Caribbean letters are posted, she receives sponsorship from the AARP and Road Scholar.
Things are happening over on Lovango Cay (which was named for a region of Africa, not because a brothel there in the days of piracy had been so popular that the island was dubbed “Love and Go”). The cay has been approved for fifty bungalows, fifteen glamping tents, fourteen private homes, a restaurant, and a beach club with a swimming pool that will offer daily, weekly, and season passes.
Swan Seeley has been hired to handle the resort’s marketing strategy, but when she saw the architect’s plans, she feared she’d be fired. They don’t need Swan to sell this place; it will sell itself. The design is ingenious—the eco-friendly resort will be the hottest spot in the Caribbean! Swan feels incredibly blessed to be part of it. She’d thought her life was over with the divorce, but she was wrong. The curtain is rising on her second act.
Swan is collaborating closely with both Tilda Payne, who works at La Tapa, and the guy who bought the island, Duncan Huntley. Duncan and Tilda are a couple; they walk around all googly-eyed, holding hands. He calls her mate (he calls everyone mate); she calls him Stallion, which is almost more than Swan can handle. They treat Duncan’s dog, Olive, a harlequin Great Dane that is the size of a show pony, like their child. They speak to Olive in baby talk; they constantly fret over whether Olive is hungry, thirsty, or tired, even though Olive is as chill as an ice sculpture.
One morning, Swan and Duncan are alone in the air-conditioned work trailer at the slanted drafting table reviewing Swan’s marketing plan. Swan worked hard on the plan; she included ideas for Lovango resort merchandise that they could sell at the gift shop. She went so far as to sketch cute logos for the T-shirts—every woman Swan knows would pay good money for a flattering T-shirt or tank to wear over her Lululemons—and she created a list of local artisans whose work they can feature. She’s hoping to impress Duncan. When she Googled him, she found out that he’d started two companies—a sex app and an edible marijuana concern—that he’d then sold, the first for eight figures, the second for nine. In addition to a whole bunch of money, he has a very appealing Australian accent.
Duncan glances at the T-shirt designs and then shuffles them aside.
Swan says, “Merch might be more important than you think because it serves as a source of revenue and a form of advertising. Have you ever heard of the Black Dog on Martha’s Vineyard?”
Dunk blinks at her and brings his vape pen to his mouth. His eyelids seem a little heavy and she wonders if he has marijuana pods in his vape pen.
“No,” he says.
“It’s a restaurant,” Swan says. “They have clam chowder and other New England specialties, but their T-shirts are what’s making them millions. Millions! It’s just a silk screen of a black dog, but that’s part of the mystique. If you know, you know.” She lifts her favorite design, a logo with the words LOVE AND GO. REPEAT. “This has potential, I think? I mean, if you don’t mind propagating the myth of how Lovango got its name?”
“Propagating?” Duncan says. A smile oozes across his face. He’s definitely high. Or maybe just creepy; Swan can’t tell. Either way, he’s one of her bosses. He owns the island. “Are you smart, Swan?”
Swan flinches. He’s joking, right? And if she acts offended, he’ll think she’s rigid and humorless. “I am,” she says pleasantly. “Which is why you hired me.”
Duncan leans in so that the side of his body presses into the side of Swan’s body. “I hired you because you’re a hot little bird,” he says. “A dime.” His hand snakes up her back. He’s touching her back. Swan holds her breath and thinks, What do I do? He hired her because she’s hot? She isn’t an underwear model!
She straightens up so that Dunk’s hand slides off her back. “Smart and hot,” she says. She points to the next page of her plan. “I made a list of influencers that we should invite to the property. Market research shows that influencers are worth more bang for our buck than regular print advertising—”
“Bang for our buck,” Dunk says. “Now you’re talking.” He stands behind Swan and starts to massage her shoulders. His groin grazes her backside.
Nope, sorry, this is not okay. Swan twists away, gathers up her papers, and storms out of the trailer, stumbling into the searing-hot sunshine. There’s a picnic table in the shade of the rocky path where the workers eat their lunch. Swan sits on the table with her feet on the bench seat and tries to steady her breathing. Did she overreact? Is she being too sensitive? No, she decides. That was classic #MeToo stuff back there. Swan shouldn’t have agreed to meet with Duncan alone. But why is she blaming herself? She should be able to meet with whomever she wants under whatever circumstances without being touched inappropriately and told that she was hired because she was hot.
Her eyes sting with tears. She had been so happy to land this job, but she knows she can’t stay on. She has a degree from Florida State, a business degree.
She doesn’t want to cry. She
