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any secret of the fact that her dream was to expand into the UK. She’d joked that one of the reasons she married him was because she had a Brit-obsession! It had been unwavering, that dream of hers, since they’d formed their company seven years ago and he owed her a shot at achieving it.

Problem was, her preferred property was a fortified manor in Devon, which Finn had pinpointed on the map in his head the minute he’d seen the photos. Way too close to Hawke’s Cove. Which left property number two: a loch-side castle in the Scottish Highlands. But was it fair to Gina to sway the decision on the basis of his reluctance to go back to a place just because his memories were not fond? At thirty years old it was way past time to put those memories behind him.

‘Boss!’

Finn, startled out of his thoughts by the sharpness with which that one word was uttered, saw that the usually strictly-deferential Aiata was regarding him with an expression just shy of exasperation.

‘Sorry, what?’ he said, wincing because obviously she’d been trying to get his attention for a while.

‘The first guests have arrived,’ she said.

Which was Aiata speak for Step it up, get your game face on and get over there to meet-and-greet.

He glanced round, surprised to note that the wait staff briefing he’d intended to listen to had happened without him, and that one of the staff was offering welcome drinks to a small group of guests. The band hired to provide background music had set up, the singer conferring quietly with the ukulele player.

He checked his wristwatch. Okay, there were five minutes to go before the scheduled start time but how had he not noticed everything happening around him?

In the time it took him to raise his eyes from his watch the number of guests had increased from six to eight…ten…eleven. They were coming in fast and early.

At the first strum of the ukulele he examined the guests more carefully. Noted that a VIP—a director of the tourism board—was among the early-arrivers and being charmed by Poerava’s manager, the glamorous Nanihi.

‘Right,’ he said to Aiata. ‘I’ll join Nanihi and do the VIP schmoozing but I also want to meet all the international travel journos. How many do we have here tonight and how many are staying for the full week?’

‘Fifteen tonight, ten are staying,’ Aiata said, and the almost-exasperation was back. ‘The document I emailed had names, publications, background information on each of them, sample articles, the personalised itineraries I’ve put together according to their individual preferences, plus—’

‘Yes, yes I got it,’ Finn said, wincing again at having cut her off. It wasn’t her fault he hadn’t done his due diligence on the media. He devoutly hoped it would be the last wince-worthy moment of the night. ‘Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to go through it because of the Maldives issue. Maybe you could give me a rundown now of who they are.’ He shot another glance around the space, estimated that around a third of their expected two-hundred-plus guests was already here. It often happened like that. A trickle became a flood and eventually reverted to a trickle. But mid-flood there was no time to talk about which media wanted to do what activities. ‘Forget that. Just tell me if there’s anyone who needs special attention.’

‘There’s a last-minute stand-in for Rolf. You know, Rolf Vameer? You asked for him specifically after he did that piece about the Fiji resort but—’

‘What? No Rolf?’ Finn said, and winced again at having interrupted her. He blamed his impatience on that manor house in Devon. He accepted a glass of champagne from a passing server and took a sip, forcing himself to relax. ‘Is he going to be a problem?’

‘He?’ she asked, frowning.

‘Rolf’s replacement.’

Her frown cleared. ‘She, not he. And no. She’s a sweetie. Easy going from what I could tell when she checked in. I was surprised because she normally won’t do junkets and she’s only doing this one because she’s a friend of Rolf’s.’

‘She doesn’t do junkets?’

‘No. She thinks junkets put pressure on writers to hide the downsides of a place. Plus she hates seeing everyone come out with the same basic article post-trip.’

‘Sounds like trouble.’

‘That’s not my impression. And I’ve taken pains with all of them to offer points of difference in their itineraries and plenty of free time, so the issue about everyone writing identical stories shouldn’t arise. There are certain things they’ll do as a group but each of them has a choice of other activities and I’m talking to them separately to craft individual story angles.’

‘Okay, great.’ Another sip of champagne. ‘Then if there’s no one who’s a problem I’m happy to wing it and keep things with the media informal tonight. Anyone who needs a corporate perspective will want an in-depth interview which I can’t do tonight anyway, so you can set up a time for them to talk to me on the phone once I’m in the UK. For the destination features I’ll leave it to Nanihi to give them what they need during the week.’

‘You got it boss,’ Aiata said.

‘And Aiata, thank you. For everything. I can tell it’s going to be a great night.’

She smiled at him with her more-usual warmth, murmured something about Nanihi heading his way, and glided quietly away.

The next forty-five minutes flew by. A blur of faces, chatter, music. Finn gave a brief, well-received speech and introduced his team. The band was perfect. The resort staff managed the flow of people brilliantly so that he met everyone he needed to meet. The flood of arriving guests became a trickle. Everyone seemed happy and relaxed.

Figuring he’d earned some off-the-clock-time, Finn collared Kupe Kahale, owner of the Mama Papa’e restaurant on nearby Heia Island, with whom he’d formed a close bond over the past year. The bombastic Kupe always gave the impression that those to whom he deigned to speak were being granted an audience

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