At one point, he climbed onto the pool steps and looked toward me.
“Daddy used to do it better.”
The words surprised me.
For a moment, I felt the familiar ache.
Then I smiled.
“He did.”
Noah nodded.
“He sounded like a squeaky door.”
I laughed.
“That's exactly what he sounded like.”
My son grinned.
Then tried to make the sound himself.
It was terrible.
We both laughed so hard that I had to hold the edge of the pool.
For a few moments, Andre felt close.
Not in a painful way.
In the way a memory sometimes becomes a small, unexpected gift.
When Noah became tired, we climbed out and returned to the lounge chairs.
He asked for a red popsicle.
I bought one from the poolside attendant.
Then I ordered sparkling water for myself.
The young attendant smiled.
“Would you like anything else, ma'am?”
I shook my head.
“That's perfect. Thank you.”
He nodded and walked away.
I watched him for a moment.
His name tag read JULIAN.
He moved quickly between guests, carrying trays, collecting empty glasses, and responding to requests with the practiced politeness of someone who had spent years in hospitality.
He looked exhausted.
At one point, a man near the cabanas snapped his fingers at him.
Julian approached immediately.
The guest complained about the temperature of his drink.
Julian apologized and offered to replace it.
The man waved him away dismissively.
I noticed the interaction.
Then turned toward Noah.
He was carefully trying to prevent his popsicle from dripping onto his shorts.
I smiled.
“Need a napkin?”
He nodded.
“Two.”
I laughed.
“Two?”
“One for the popsicle and one for my hand.”
“Good thinking.”
I reached into my bag.
Then I noticed a silver-haired man standing near the cabana entrance.
He wore a light-gray suit.
His expression was sharp and watchful.
He was speaking with a security supervisor.
The two men looked toward me.
Then toward Noah.
I recognized him from the acquisition documents.
Graham Bellamy.
Director of Resort Operations.
He had been with the Seabright Crown for seven years.
His personnel record described him as an effective premium-service manager with extensive experience handling VIP clients and exclusive events.
But his record also contained complaints about staff intimidation and inconsistent guest-access decisions.
I watched him discreetly.
He said something to the security supervisor.
The supervisor looked toward our chairs.
Then nodded.
A few minutes later, a uniformed private security guard approached.
“Ma'am.”
I looked up.
“Yes?”
“May I see your pool credentials?”
I nodded.
“Of course.”