The Grove would prove to be a great investment.
Jasmine
I’d spent the day rambling through old boxes—boxes filled with family history. My behind was numb from sitting on a wooden crate in the center of the room for the better part of the day. I’d already grown attached to this room. It was the room where my grandfather had been born by the hands of a midwife, and it was the room where his mother had nursed him. With the beautiful sunlight beaming through the window, I imagined my great-grandmother sitting in a chair in the corner of the room and rocking her baby to sleep. The room undeniably had the best view in the house. For that reason, I’d already decided to make it my office during the renovation period, a place where I could work on a marketing strategy for the Grove. A place where I could let my hair down, find myself. Even do some journaling. I’d spotted an old desk in the storage closet that could easily be sanded and finished with little effort. My college roommate had a knack for refinishing old furniture, and she’d taught me a few things. I’d never really refinished anything in my life, but I wanted to. Particularly now, with so many artifacts and pieces of furniture that my grandparents had stored in these houses, I wanted to salvage as much history as I could.
I dug into another box, sorting through all of the old black-and-white photographs of my ancestors—generations of people who existed long before my grandfather. His father’s father and beyond.
I smiled at photos of my father and his siblings. I gently eased my finger across the photo I found of my parents. They couldn’t have been more than twenty-one, both young students at Howard University, where they met and fell in love while Mother studied to become a teacher and Daddy studied medicine. After graduating medical school, Daddy landed a residency at a hospital in Key West, over a thousand miles from his new girlfriend, who was offered a teaching position at a prestigious school in Maryland, near her hometown of DC. It appeared that this was the end of their love affair, as neither of them wanted to hinder the other’s career.
Confident that he’d made the most practical decision, Daddy took a train back to Key West, leaving my mother behind. He’d managed to bury himself in his work, yet his heart still longed for her. When she showed up in the emergency room of his hospital, with bags in tow and a swollen belly, he was happier than any man could be. She was carrying my oldest brother, Edward. Daddy’s life changed completely that night.
My parents had such a wonderful love story—the kind you found in romance novels. I hoped to find such a love one day. A man like my father, Paul John Talbot, who would sweep me off my feet. It was no doubt my father had been a great catch. Why else would my mother show up at his hospital like that in the middle of the night? He was a great husband and I knew firsthand that he was a great father.
“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted my daydreaming. Jackson Conner.
“Yes?” I said.
“It’s getting late. It’s just about sunset, and my guys are packing up. We’re about to head out for the day,” said Jackson. “Can I see you to the water taxi?”
“Uh, no.” I stood up and smoothed my skirt and adjusted my blouse. I’d become too relaxed. Had I known I’d be going through old boxes, I would’ve worn a pair of old jeans. “I’ll be wrapping up here soon.”
“Okay, I’ll wait, then...while you gather your things.”
“It’s not necessary,” I said. “You go on. I’ll be fine.”
“I would really like to secure the place before I leave and make sure you’re home safely. This is really not a place to be hanging out. There’s hazardous stuff everywhere.”
“This is my home. This island, I mean. I know it like the back of my hand. I know just about every person—every family here. And I’m not a child. I know better than to mess with hazardous materials.” I placed the photographs back into the box. “But thanks for your concern.”
“Fine,” Jackson said, “stay here, then.”
“I’ll be fine. And I’ll secure the place,” I said.
Jackson turned to walk away without another word.
“Oh, by the way,” I called to him, “there’s an old desk in the storage shed. Can you have one of your guys bring it up here for me? This room will be my office during the renovation.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Why what? I need a place to work.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You being here during the renovation will just interfere with our work.”
“I won’t interfere with your work. You won’t even know that I’m here,” I told him. “You can just work around me. But I want to be here.”
“I’m not comfortable with that.” From the look on his face, Jackson was becoming unnerved. But I didn’t care. Who was he to tell me where I could or could not be?
“Sorry about your discomfort, but I’ll be here every day from now on. So you probably should get used to seeing my face around here.” I gave him a wicked smile.
“Good night, Miss Talbot.” His face was hardened and his jaws were clenched before walking away.
I was under his skin. I could tell.
“I’ll lock up when I’m done here,” I yelled to him.
He kept walking, never responded. I heard his footsteps on the stairs and then the front door shutting. Not only had I gotten to him, I had to admit Jackson Conner got on my nerves, too. Who did he think he was anyway? And he may have made an investment in the property, but for him to tell me how often I could be on the premises of my family’s inheritance was ludicrous. I’d address that with Edward the next time we spoke.
* * *
I went back to sorting through old photos and remembered when we first heard about the Grove. Our parents had commissioned the six of us back to the islands—our home—for a family meeting. The news of the inheritance took us all by surprise, and everyone expressed strong opinions about what should be done with the properties. My brother Nate immediately suggested that we sell the properties and split the proceeds. He had no intentions of returning to the Bahamas long-term. Atlanta, Georgia, had long become his home and a place where he’d built a wonderful career as an artist. The Bahamas held too many bad memories for him, and even coming home for this family meeting had been a struggle.
I, on the other hand, had great memories of home and immediately thought that the family should convert the old houses into bed-and-breakfasts. I knew that the Bahamas was a beautiful, tourist-driven place, and such a business would generate a nice income for all six of us—an income that I desperately needed in my life at the moment.
“Who has time to run a bed-and-breakfast, let alone three of them?” asked Alyson, my oldest sister, who was the successful real-estate agent in the family. “I certainly don’t. I’m with Nate. I say we revitalize the properties and place them on the market. I can have a solid contract on them in no time.”
“I definitely can’t move to the islands right now. I’m up for reelection!” exclaimed Edward. “But I have a friend who owns his own construction business. He can definitely do the work. I’ll fly over and assist as much as I can, but I can’t move here.”
Finally we agreed that we weren’t going to sell the properties, but develop them. We wanted to honor our father’s wishes—to do something great with the properties,