Page 32 of Will & Patrick's Endless Honeymoon
“I wonder where they find the white rocks?” Will asks as the graffiti passes out of sight around a bend.
“The white sand beaches.” Patrick has read up about the various beaches in Hawaii, the dangers of riptides and sharks, and decided before he left Healing that the risks seemed negligible enough to relax and enjoy their trip.
Will’s eyes greedily suck in the horizon. For someone who’s wealthier than God, he’s traveled very little in his life. Not that Patrick’s been big on travel either. They’re both obsessed with their work and, in Will’s case, his family has demanded his attention over the years.
Maybe it really is a good thing they’re taking this break. It’s about time Will saw more than the plains of South Dakota.
“White sand beaches?” Will finally asks, snapping back from wherever he’s drifted, blissed out on the sunlight and new sights.
“There are three kinds of beaches here on the Big Island,” Patrick spouts. He read about this the prior night when he couldn’t sleep for thinking about all the upcoming hours spent high in the air in the jet. “Green sand, black sand, and white sand.”
“Green? How? Why?”
“A mineral, olivine, is part of the volcanic material around the beach. It’s denser than the other volcanic sand and so it isn’t swept out to sea. It leaves a green cast on the beach.”
“I want to see them all.”
Patrick nods. “We can do that.”
As they reach the resort area, the vegetation changes from thick but sporadic wads of green plants and colorful flowers to groomed and carefully chosen trees, bushes, and groundcover.
“This looks nice,” Will says, eyes going wide. He leans forward, the wind sweeping his hair back and ruffling his shirt.
“What did you expect? I’m not honeymooning with you in a roadside motel.” Patrick frowns and grips the wheel tighter.
“I know. But, look—” he points at the resort rising before them. The buildings are all freshly painted and the tower, where some of the nicer rooms reside, looks grand outlined against the blue sky. “It’s really nice.”
“It’s not the nicest place on the island, actually. I chose it because of the art collection more than the luxury. Though it is luxurious. Don’t worry.”
“What kind of art collection?” Will asks as they pull up to valet parking.
“Asian and Hawaiian art and antiquities. An impressive collection on permanent display. If we’re going to travel, we should get some culture. Two birds. One stone.”
Patrick shuts off the car and allows the valet to take the key. He’s tempted to threaten the guy with a lawsuit if he so much as breathes wrong on the car while parking it, but Will seems to sense what he’s about to say, grabs him by the arm, and pulls him toward the open-air lobby.
Apparently, in Hawaii they like everything to be outside.
“Wow.” Will’s hand relaxes on Patrick’s arm and he grins, peering around the place. The canopied ceiling is peach and so are the few walls. Otherwise, the breeze flows in from all directions along with the scent of the ocean.
Pergolas with flowering vines line the walkways leading off from the lobby area.
“It’s so big, and everything’s open. I can’t help but keep wondering what happens when it rains?”
“Same thing as at the airport. It gets wet.”
A deep voice from behind them interjects, “The rain usually comes at an angle that doesn’t penetrate the lobby deeply. And if it does, everything dries very quickly in the sun. Are you Dr. McCloud and Mr. Patterson? I’m Arvin Jones.”
The short man’s dark eyes twinkle in his rugged face. His peach Hawaiian-patterned shirt and beige slacks are loose and airy, like all the other employees Patrick can see, and the nametag on the left side of his chest declares him a personal concierge. “We’ve prepared your suite and I’m eager to escort you there whenever you’re ready.”
“Don’t we need to check in?” Will asks.
“It’s all been taken care of in advance,” Arvin says, motioning toward the opposite side of the lobby. Great, peach-colored steps lead down to where a mahogany boat that looks like it could carry eight people rests on a narrow man-made waterway. Patrick knows from looking at the website that the waterway winds throughout the resort as the main means of transportation aside from walking.
“Your ride awaits. Our boat will take you to your room and your bags will join you by underground conveyer. If that’s all right with you?”
“Sure,” Will agrees.
Patrick nearly declines, preferring to keep his bags close, but Will takes his arm and follows Arvin toward the boat. “Look,” he whispers. “Koi.”
