“Is there someone who lives on the island who can act as our guide and interpreter?” She would have to contain her excitement when she saw Manny’s family again ….
“No. The island is completely empty. A hurricane destroyed most of the homes and all of the villagers who had lived there for generations.” Pleasure dripped from Allerton’s forked tongue at imparting the horrendous information.
Ginny had to concentrate on her mother’s hand on Gabriel’s arm to keep from falling to the floor in heartbreak. “That’s terrible.” With a deadpanned voice, Ginny raised her eyes to Allerton’s, seeing the pleasure within his. Like the monster he was, he had sensed when his opponent was hurt. “When was the hurricane?”
“Three years ago.”
Chapter Twenty-One
He had been responsible for the casualties. Ginny felt it in her bones.
Wanting to run screaming from the room, she forced down the hatred and accusations that she wanted to hurl at him. She felt the expectancy from him as he watched her for any telltale signs that could prove she remembered the people on the island.
Ginny plucked one of the chocolate goat cheese petit fours off Gavin’s plate, shoving it into her mouth. She didn’t have to mask her reaction; it came as soon as the taste hit her tongue.
This time when she gagged, she didn’t fight it. Jerking a cocktail napkin from Gavin’s other hand, she started retching into it. The onlookers hastily moved away in disgust as Ginny retched louder, deriving a sick pleasure at paying Allerton back for the sadistic way he had told her.
A handful of napkins appeared in front of her face, and Ginny reached out to take them from Desmond Beck with her eyes streaming tears.
“Are you all right?” he asked courteously.
“I think so. Thank-you. God, what was that?” she asked, using a clean napkin to wipe her tears away.
Desmond motioned for a waiter, unperturbed as he whisked the soiled napkins away from her to set them on the empty tray. “Thank-you. Macon, please bring us some wet cloths.”
“Yes, sir.”
“To answer, Ginny, those delicacies are Allerton’s favorite. They’re chocolate-covered goat cheese.”
“I’m so embarrassed. My family has a herd of goats, and I’ve learned to make a dozen different things with their milk. Before I leave, I’ll have to give your cook my recipe for goat cheese. I could swear I tasted a hint lavender in that one.”
Ginny gave the waiter a sweet smile when he held out a silver tray with two steaming wet clothes. Taking one, she daintily wiped her hands, placing it back on the tray when the waiter held it out for Desmond to discard his as well.
“Mr. Allerton, you should try your goat cheese with fig jelly.” Ginny let her Kentucky accent come out in full force. “Save the chocolate for strawberries.”
Allerton cleared his throat. “You can write the recipe down, and I will see my chef gets it. Going back to what we were discussing before your choking incident.” Distastefully, he gave his plate to a passing waiter. “The hurricane occurred three years ago.”
Were the people in the room aware of what Allerton had done? Her mother? Her father?
“There were no survivors?”
“None.” Allerton took one of the chocolate goat cheese petit fours from a passing waiter, his face showing the enjoyment of the nasty concoction.
She wouldn’t be wasting her time to write her recipe. He could fart lavender-scented gas balls out of his uptight butt, and she wouldn’t care.
“How fortunate for you that Sherguevil Island didn’t incur the same casualties.” Ginny couldn’t hold back the snapped barb.
“Fortunate, indeed. Sherguevil did incur massive damages. All of the bungalows were destroyed, the resort had extensive damages to the roof, and the first floor flooded. Overall, it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be repaired. As the owner, I had the power to evacuate the island two days before when the hurricane had been forecasted. I took two boats and offered any of the islanders who wanted to leave Clindale free rooms in one my hotels, but they all refused. Sadly, I didn’t have the authority to force an evacuation. I still regret my inability to convince them to heed my warnings.”
“We all have our crosses to bear in life.” Her hand itched to smack the man who wouldn’t experience regret if it bit him on his ass. “Some find it an easy burden to brush off, while others carry the heavy burden for the rest of their lives.”
“You believe our decisions have religious connotations?”
“I believe we each have an internal scorecard that is marked with our triumphs and failures. Only we know what those scorecards show. Mine shows the failures and victories I’ve achieved in regard to how I’ve lived my life without hurting others.”
“Then you would be disappointed in me. I believe others are responsible for their own actions, especially if they refuse aid when it is offered. To that effect, mine would be more of a spreadsheet of the numbers of those I was able to help than those I failed.”