"Here they come."
Reginald St. Claire, concierge of the Southsea Hotel, stated this with little to no enthusiasm as he pointed towards the hydrofoil approaching that crossed the ocean between Haiti and their little Gundersson Island. His lips wouldn't move, wouldn't show a smile, as behind his forehead the upcoming scenario unfolded to an untold mess like every single time this kind of event would take place at his hotel. His coworkers, members of the core staff of the hotel, shared his mood.
"I hope that this time they will at least not burn anything down," Saffron, the chef, groaned in memory of the last wedding party.
Reginald nodded in agreement, but didn't say anything. With a few hand movements which he did on instinct he made sure that his concierge uniform sat straight on his body and gave him the most respectable appearance possible. He didn't always like his job - especially not at times like these - but he was proud of it. Still, thanks to his experience, he imagined the chaos that would be left behind once this wedding party would have checked out again and departed, not even wasting a thought on those who worked here and had to clean up everything. The rich folks were the worst of them all. No consideration for others, treating the hotel staff like their personal slaves, always demanding special treatment and readiness 24 hours a day, and NEVER giving a tip or even saying "Thank you". The richer the people were, the more unbearable.
Judging by the giant white yacht that was also approaching Gundersson Island in the distance, not even half as fast as the hydrofoil that was gunning through the ocean, those were very rich people. The yacht had announced their arrival as well and would even be anchored here for the time being. Just some way for the owner to put his wealth on display for all to see and admire. Reginald shook his head. Some people just had the nerve. And they'd be the worst tippers of them all.
"Has anyone seen Eddie?" he then asked and looked around to the staff members that had gathered to welcome the guests. Heads were shaken above neat and tidy staff uniforms from all the departments of the hotel. This was actually a good sign. Eddie was probably up to his ears in some maintenance work. And he wasn't a people person anyway. Still... Reginald knew that, once this whole thing was over, the majority of complaints and bickering about the guests and the condition the hotel was in would come from his direction. Eddie never held back when voicing his opinion.
The hydrofoil had reached the dock by now, and the first guests disembarked, helped by the crew of the boat. Surrounded by countless pieces of luggage they gathered on the wide wooden pier. The first impression he got from his actual guests matched his expectations. The faces of the ladies were hidden under sun hats as big as carriage wheels. Elegant summer dresses in bright colors were blowing in the warm breeze coming from the South Sea. One hand frequently grabbed those enormous hats to keep them from flying off, the other clutched a handbag that probably won a designer award and cost more than any member of the staff could make in a month. The same could probably be said for the shoes. Though he noticed one crucial difference: The younger of the two ladies stepping on the pier was not wearing heels. Instead, what Reginald could see under the long and flowing skirt were very fashionable sneakers. Maybe he had misjudged them.
More luggage was unloaded, and the male part of the family finally stepped onto land. "So that's what the heir to Shiro Technologies looks like," one member of the staff commented, but Reginald turned around and threw him one reprimanding glance. It was rude and unprofessional to talk about paying guests like this - as right as one may be. Because this was what he was expecting all along. All was missing was a cowboy hat to perfectly fit his mental image. The man walked up straight like he had his spine replaced with an iron rod, and his chest was so puffed out, it looked like he had done it on purpose or was spending most of his working hours in the gym. Everything on this man spoke of unchallenged authority and demanded unquestioned obedience. His clothing fit the warm Caribbean weather, yet was still business-like with his light-brown jacket over a white shirt and also light-brown cloth trousers. A pair of brown sunglasses covered his eyes.
One thing was for certain: He was American to the bone. Reginald wondered how he could ever have become the owner of Shiro Technologies, a pretty big Korean electronics manufacturer, even though not one of the biggest. But then he caught a glimpse at the face of his wife, as the sun hat finally gave in to the breeze and flew away, just to be caught by the husband with lightning reflexes. The long dark hair and the typical features of a Korean woman were visible even at that distance. Slick bastard, Reginald thought, both in admiration and disgust. So that's how he did it.
The porters already hurried down the long stairwell to fetch the luggage, and Reginald straightened out his uniform one last time before he started on his way himself. Descending the forty steps towards the coast and the pier to welcome newly arriving guests was a bit like descending from his premium education and training as a first class concierge of a luxury hotel onto the level of the brutes and barbarians he would be hosting. The steps were made of tiles in different sizes and colors, reflecting the diversity Gundersson Island had to offer when it came to nature, and also a symbol that, in theory, people of every size and color were welcome to this place. In reality though this idea had vanished once the new owner had taken over, making it a place for people of every size and color as long as they had the cash to afford it. Barely anyone did.
When he arrived, the porters had already carried the luggage up the stairs again, leaving only people on the pier. He was proud of the level of professionalism his people showed - leaving a good first impression was important to him, even though it was a thankless job. He stepped in front of his guests, bowed slightly and gave them the traditional greeting of the hotel: "Welcome to the Southsea Hotel on Gundersson Island, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Reginald St. Claire, and I will be your concierge for the time of your stay. If you have any wishes or desires, please do not hesitate to call upon me. I will be delighted to make your stay as pleasant as possible."
The guests surprised him once more - instead of arrogant acceptance of his welcome, like they took it for granted that he would fulfill every single wish, they actually reacted in delight and smiled at him. "This is truly a beautiful place," the older Korean woman commented in astonishment. "Darling, you really pick the dream spots."
"Of course." The man's voice, though as warm as the weather, was loud and demanded attention as much as his physical presence did. Still, he did have some manners, as he stepped forward and shook Reginald's hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. St. Claire. Donald Gilmour. My wife Beatrice, and my daughter Anna." He pointed at the two ladies. "The rest of the family." That went to the other group of people slowly coming down the gangway from the hydrofoil. Apparently they had waited for Reginald to arrive, or for Mr. Gilmour to address him. Like nobody was allowed to step on the same land as him without his permission. Reginald did his best to suppress such thoughts and showed him his most polite smile.
"We have prepared everything for your arrival," he then announced to the family. "And for tomorrow's festivities, of course. Your rooms are ready for you, and your luggage is brought there at this very moment. At 6:30 pm we will be honored to serve you at your rehearsal dinner. The bar will open at 5:30 pm for cocktails and aperitifs."
"Very good." Mr. Gilmour even sounded like he meant that. "This hotel of yours comes highly recommended. I'm pretty sure we will have a wonderful time here."
"Oh, I hope so. If you would follow me, please..."
Reginald led the group up the stairs once everybody else had disembarked. The group was pretty colorful - old and young, black and white, and everything in between. The vicar of the group stuck out in his black talar and white collar, though he was a lot less older than Reginald had expected. A group of young women, apparently the bridesmaids, were giggling constantly. The photographer, a woman with her dark hair tied into a bun, already got to work and shot photos of the arrival from every possible angle. There was also a middle-aged couple coming down the pier, basically dragging a teenage girl behind that seemed anything but thrilled to be there.
"Has our son arrived yet?" the middle-aged woman asked Reginald. "He's the groom. Callum Wallace."
"No, Mrs. Wallace," Reginald answered quickly and politely. "But we have seen the yacht of Mr. Creed approach, and it probably won't be long until they arrive here."
One person still remained at the dock, surrounded by some pieces of luggage. When the porters came to take her luggage to her room, she refused with a wave. Reginald took a quick glance at her and frowned. But there was no time to think about it now - and some guests of the hotel didn't like giving up their luggage to anyone.
They went up the long stairs to the hotel. Reginald slowed down a bit to give the older guests some time to catch up, and also to allow them to get a very good look at the hotel. This was always the best introduction to the Southsea Hotel for new arrivals. Once the first twenty steps were taken, they were over the first slightly steep hill, and the main building got in sight. It showed itself from its very best angle. White statues decorated the sides of the footpath leading to the entrance. The building itself, four floors behind a front of Mediterranean stone and huge glass windows, with big round pillars every five yards, throned like an old Greek temple on the largest hill overlooking a vast jungle. The lower two floors had the largest windows, since they housed the ballroom and the lounge. The upper two floors belonged to the premium hotel rooms, so those windows were smaller and had balconies in front of them. Anna Gilmour, the bride to be, squealed in joy as her father told her that one of those rooms would be hers. Reginald allowed himself a faint smile. The rooms up there were pretty, and the view from the balcony was to die for.
Connected to the main building there were three more wings with basically the same architectural features, which held the normal hotel rooms and suites. They also contained the facilities that were expected from a luxury hotel like this: gym, swimming pool, spa and a boutique to get some more clothing or souvenirs. Most of the guests would be housed here - even the parents of the groom, which had surprised Reginald as he had dealt with the reservations. The Gilmours had not spared any expenses on their stay here, but the Wallaces didn't seem to be that well off. Either that, or they just were too miserly to pay more than they had to. But to each their own... and it wasn't like those other rooms were shabby. In some way Reginald even preferred the cozyness of the smaller rooms - then again, he was just the concierge.
He looked over his shoulder to the procession following up the stairs and the footpath, and the reaction of the group paid off once more. They were in awe as they looked at the hotel in all its grace and glory, whispering and giggling and cheering quietly, like he had hoped they would do. At the top of the stairs the rest of the staff he had gathered was already waiting to greet the new guests, like they always did. And Eddie was nowhere to be seen, doing his work elsewhere, like he always did. Everything went as smoothly as always, and that gave Reginald some comfort, as he led the group into the building to have them check in.
Behind some thick bushes, under the cover of green leaves almost the size of bed sheets, the shadowy figure lowered his binoculars. Finally! The day had arrived. And she had arrived. They felt their heart race, hammering against their chest from the inside. Their breath accelerated. Sweat ran down their forehead. They wiped it away with the sleeve of their shirt. After all this time they were finally close to her again - and she had no idea that they were here.
They smiled grimly as they retreated back into the jungle. Everything was in place, as it should be. The plan was starting to come together. After all this time, they would finally get what they wanted.
This would be a wedding that none of those people would ever forget.