17
Today
I decide to take Kristal back to Japan with me while steadfastly ignoring all the people milling about the Inn by the Sea, the Maine ocean-side resort where Declan’s mother lives and works as the onsite manager.
We’ll have to get right back on the plane after Kristal and Declan are done talking with Declan’s mother in the back office. Also, I’ll probably have to take on another pilot to make the second leg of the trip to Japan after we refuel in San Francisco. But the private bedroom on my airplane is better than here.
Just about anywhere is better than here.
I have very exacting standards for where I stay when I travel abroad. Only the most modern hotels will do. I’m used to a certain amount of luxury amenities, both advertised and off-menu—sleek operations run by efficient people, who often speak several languages, including Japanese. I honestly cannot remember the last time I stayed at a hotel with less than five stars.
I doubt the Inn by the Sea would even have four if not for the fact it had been constructed in the late 1600s, which made it one of Maine’s oldest hotels. It’s a ramshackle affair with ancient wallpaper, mismatching scuffed furniture from various eras, and pipes that bubble and bang.
There’s only one tiny elevator that I can see, and it looks like the word “grandfathered” came up often in the last inspector’s report. I haven’t checked, but I doubt the Inn by the Sea has a conference room on the premises, much less a gym. According to several framed articles lining the walls, the hotel had been restored not once but twice after fires.
As for the staff, Declan’s mother greeted Kristal and me with an Irish brogue so thick, I could barely parse it, even after attending university in London.
Apparently never having read a manual on cultural intelligence, she attacked us with fierce hugs, as if we were her family members the same as Declan. However, no member of my family would have ever engaged in such a show of affection with me, much less a stranger I had just met. From what I can tell, her manager position entails doing everything from running day-to-day operations to cleaning all the common rooms.
Then there are the hotel guests, openly staring at me in the lobby. I can even hear a few of them whispering amongst themselves about me.
“Is that an oriental?” “I’ve never seen one here before!” “I heard he’s Maeve’s son’s boss…” “Do you think he’s rich?” “He’s got to be rich…” “Look at his suit…”
So yes, this is essentially my worst nightmare. With a blanket of snow on top.
Ignoring the whispering guests, I frown at the scene outside the hotel’s old-fashioned bay window. The snow started falling shortly after we landed, prompting Declan to say, “Guess we’re going to find out if driving in Tokyo too long has completely wussed me out today.”
“Oh, it’s so pretty!” Kristal exclaimed, pulling out her drawing pad. “I’ve never seen real American snow before!”
It had been somewhat pretty then, I agreed. But now it’s coming down so hard, I can barely see the wooden “INN BY THE SEA” sign at the end of the drive.
I pull out my phone to text Declan for the pilot’s number. I have a feeling he’ll want to stay on here. So I’ll need to communicate with the pilot directly about our outgoing flight. Along with the second leg, I just decided to add for practical reasons.
If I was in Japan, I could go to work. I’d have something to distract me from this strange obsession with her. Maybe even take precedence. Perhaps I could hire a drawing tutor for Kristal. One much more suitable than this Jae-Hyun, who looked older than the Inn by the Sea in the portraits she handed me.
Kristal would most likely thrive under the tutelage of a much younger teacher. Also, Japan had many renowned anime production houses and companies, and publishing houses. If she decided to stay on after the ten days….
“Nakamura-sama, I thought I could marry Hayato as you wished. He is so handsome and smart and from such a good family. But he has told me some bizarre things about himself. I fear for his mental health….”
The memory of that recording of Satomi’s voice makes me back away from that dangerous thought.
I will take Kristal to Japan. But as a matter of convenience. Only convenience and nothing beyond our agreed-upon ten days.
Soon after I finish my text, Kristal and Declan appear with his mother, Maeve, a bosomy and plump little woman, with streaks of white running throughout her red hair. Her eyes are red-rimmed. Most likely from crying, which makes me even more ready to leave.
“I understand if you would prefer to stay on with your mother,” I tell Declan with a bow. “I can arrange for another driver to take Kristal and me back to the airport.”