Chapter 3: Sunshine and Lollipops
For the first two weeks in the Caribbean I was in paradise. Brilliant, hot sun, azure blue sea, cheap booze and fresh seafood. I acquired a straw hat, a pair of sandals and some Bermuda shorts that passed for dress wear on this island.
It took me a couple of days to find a place to live. I had been advised that Sint Maarten was the cheaper place to reside. It made sense to live there anyway, since the airport and our construction site was on that side. I found a small, three-room flat above a trinket shop in Philipsburg and settled in. I didn't need much. I ate out every day and used the place only to sleep and occasionally to write my reports to Tom Yardley.
Happily, the island had a high-speed wireless internet provider so document and drawing transfer weren't a problem. I had a portable office on the site that contained a computer, a printer and a plotter. It also had an air conditioner which was essential in what was otherwise a tin box.
My job was to liaise with the construction crew at the airport. They were American so no language problem was expected. They were quite competent but some of their day workers were less than efficient. As a result, the job would take longer than I was accustomed to. I hated to think how long it would be if it were a local contractor.
The temporary agent we employed had been on the job two months and had overseen the site location and footings before I arrived. We spent a half day discussing what was going on and what I should be on the look-out for. Shortcuts were common in this part of the world, especially if there was money to be gained from them.
I had been on the island a little more than a week when I made contact with my son, Jon. He was living in Antofagasta, Chile, working almost eight thousand feet up in the Andes at a copper mine. He was only at his home on the weekends but we both had Skype and luckily the connection was good.
"Hi Jon, how are you?"
"Good Dad, but you've sure got everyone upset with you disappearing like you did."
"Yeah ... I'm sure I have. What did your mother say about my reason for leaving?"
"Nothing. She said she couldn't imagine why you'd run off like that. She sounds pretty upset, Dad. Why did you go?"
"I'm disappointed that she couldn't bring herself to tell you the truth, Jon. She was having an affair with our financial advisor and planned to divorce me and take everything she could with her. I'll send you a couple of her e-mails to lover-boy and you'll get the drift pretty quick."
"Why, Dad? What would make her want to do something like that? I don't understand it."
"Neither do I, Jon. She's not at the stage where she's ready to face what she did so I guess we'll just wait until she can confess her deeds."
"Where are you, Dad? Are you still in Vancouver?"
"No ... I'm out of the country. If you promise not to tell anyone, I'm in the Caribbean. I have a job and I intend to stay here for some time. Please don't tell your mother or sister. I don't want to deal with your mother just now. I'm sure she hasn't told Merry what she did. Merry's pretty upset with me by the sound of her e-mails. I just quit responding to them. Have you heard from her?"
"Yeah, sure. Several times. You're right, she's pretty pissed with you. Figures you've run off with some floozy and left them high and dry. I think she ought to know the truth, Dad."
"Let's leave it for a while and see if your mother can come to terms with what she's done. I've sent the e-mails she was exchanging with her boyfriend to his wife. The guy's got five kids, for Christ sakes. Can you image what will happen when the courts get ahold of him?"
"Maybe that's why Mom's not working at that office any more. I don't know if she quit or got fired but she's looking for another job."
"Interesting. Sounds like things are getting a little hairy for her," I chuckled.
"Dad ... is this the way it's going to be ... I mean ... you hating Mom? I know she did something very wrong but ... Merry and I ... we have to stay in touch with her. We can't just abandon her. It wouldn't be right even if she did what you said."
"Yeah ... I guess I understand that. If you're talking to your sister have her call me on Skype, preferably when her mother isn't around. I'd like to talk to her and explain."
"Sure, Dad, I can do that. Are we in the same time zone? It's just past eleven o'clock here."
"We're an hour behind you. It's four hours difference to Vancouver from here."
"Okay. I'll try and set something up with Merry and get her to call on the weekends like you do."
"Thanks, Jon. Good to talk to you. I wish it was about something a little brighter but I'm afraid I don't see that happening for some time."
"Take care, Dad. Bye."
Well, at least we had a conversation that didn't end in recriminations over my actions. I think maybe Jon understood why I took off and I could understand why he would want to stay in touch with his mother. What a mess! Now I would have to explain myself to Merry. I wasn't looking forward to that.
I e-mailed Jon four messages from Sandra's file that pretty well told the story of their plan. I found four that weren't too sexually explicit. I didn't think that kind would help smooth the waters for anyone.
It didn't take me long to find a routine for my day-to-day work. It wasn't very demanding to be honest. I wandered about the site introducing myself to the various contractors and vendors as the opportunity arose. It was when I met the two people representing the prime lenders on this project that things got interesting. They were women, twins in fact, and they were quite a sight.
They were in their mid thirties, I guessed. They were clearly identical twins and two more formidable women I had yet to meet. They were definitely sun worshipers if their bleach-blonde hair and tanned bodies were any indication. They were also physically fit despite their size. If I were to guess, they would be at least five-ten and possibly one-hundred-and-eighty pounds. But from what I could see they were not fat ... just big.
"Good afternoon, ladies," I announced politely. "I am Dexter McLeod and I represent Pinecone Engineering. We are responsible for the design and plans for this project."
"Hallo, Mister McLeod, nice to meet you," one of them said. "I am Adriaana de Groot and this is my sister, Katerina. We are with ABN Amro. We are financing this project for the government of Sint Maarten. We are here to see that our monies are correctly used."
She had a big voice to go with her big body but the tone of her voice and her infectious smile weren't intimidating at all. Her English was very good, tinged as it was with a Dutch accent.
"Well then," I said, "we should be seeing a great deal of each other over the next few months. I am here to see that this addition is built according to the plans. Like you, I'm here to protect the investors' dollars ... or should I say guilders."
"Euros, Mr. McLeod," Katerina said quietly but with a similar smile and tone as her sister. "We can work well together I think."