The Maya 1.19
Previously On The Maya...
George Kirkegaard and Jim Layton continue talking as they drive to Layton's home. Layton knows IPB agent Lander Smith through a presentation Smith made at work. Layton is surprised anyone talked with Kirkegaard on the flight over to the Isle of Use. As they get closer to their destination, Kirkegaard notices that homes and the land they sit on get larger, and all appear to be custom made.
Layton tells Kirkegaard his 3,000 square foot home on 2.5 acres cost $165,000 (nearly half what he might have paid in Oregon for the same property). That's enough to drop Kirkegaard's jaw, but then he's in for another surprise when he sees Layton's wife, Marie. She looks...younger? After giving Kirkegaard a hug, she asks, "Are you two going to hang out here or are you going to come in?"
The Maya—a living legend covert operative-for-hire that no one she encounters can remember.
George Kirkegaard—a former newspaper owner forced out of business by state government.
Eugenio Stavros—a shipping magnate on a trip to the mysterious Isle of Use to renegotiate a steel contract.
Amara Barclay—a savvy, independent multi-millionaire entrepreneur and socialite with unparalleled beauty.
Mr. Tic and Mr. Snake—two U.S. government officials running off-the-books dark ops involving The Maya.
And now...the next installment of The Maya.
"Welcome, Mr. Stavros, Miss Barclay."
Duncan, the butler, a man in his mid-fifties and dressed in formal attire, met the couple at the door of the large home. As they stepped into the spacious entryway, he told the limousine driver to leave their bags inside and he would attend to them.
Amara's bare feet padded softly across dark and speckled granite tile as she took it all in. Off white walls adorned with oil paintings of landscapes and portraits interspersed by potted palms and ferns were first, followed by a luxurious forest green carpet which fanned out into different rooms. There was a study with a wall of books, a parlor with ornate sitting chairs and divan, a theatre room with reclining leather couches and cup holders in the armrests, and a game room with air hockey, foosball, billiards and ping pong tables.
Wenge hardwood floors took over in the gourmet kitchen, breakfast nook, and formal dining areas (there were two), while granite tile returned in the laundry room, guest baths and sunroom.
There were six bedrooms, all master suites, with their own jacuzzi tub, separate tiled showers, and double stainless steel bowl sinks. Beds were king-sized canopies covered with silk sheets and down pillows. Each room had its own season motif, two Spring, two Summer, and one each Fall and Winter.
All rooms sat on one floor. The entire house measured in at fifty-one hundred square feet. Aside from the main house, there were two separate guest homes, each twenty-five hundred square feet, and staff quarters. Duncan lived in one apartment with his wife, Annalee, who served as the hostess. She ran the rest of the staff, which included three maids, three landscapers, and a pair of cooks.
The estate sat on ten acres with eight hundred twenty-five feet of beachfront property.
After their tour of the home, Amara and Stavros picked out their rooms. Stavros chose one of the Summers, while Amara took a Spring. After they were settled, Annalee asked if they were hungry.
"Famished," Amara said. Stavros indicated he could eat something, too.
"Why don't you wait out on the deck, then?" Annalee said. She gestured to a glass door just off the breakfast nook, where floor-to-ceiling windows lined the wall. It was a magnificent view of the ocean overlooking green grass, hedges, a flower garden, ferns and intermittent palm trees.
When they were outside and seated at a white whicker table with matching chairs and a thatched palapa umbrella, Amara took Stavros' hand.
"This is much better," she said. "Thank you."
"I agree," Stavros said. He looked at her, then back at the ocean.
"Something wrong?"
Stavros had been quiet on their way over to the house, and while cordial to the house staff, he seemed subdued.
"No, not really," he said. "I just wish I would have known about this place first. I could have saved us both the embarrassment."
"Of what?" Amara said, "A wonderful five-star hotel? What happened there isn't your fault."
"No, but I should have remembered what it was like the last time I stayed there."
"You mean, the same thing happened?"
"Well, not exactly." His eyes met hers. "There were smaller incidences, though. Mostly trivial, but still."
"It's okay. It was three years ago and you weren't there for the hotel experience, and you didn't have me tagging along."
"What are you going to do while I'm in my meeting tomorrow?"
Amara could see that was wearing on him, too.
"Oh, please," she waved a hand at the ocean and grounds. "Maybe there's not a spa or scuba lessons here, but I'm sure I can find a place to go sunning and swimming." She gave him a coy smile, and then added, "And if I get tired of that, maybe I can get someone to play tennis with me. Or I can take up bowling. I could always go shopping."
Stavros smiled back. "Okay. Tomorrow's all day, but Wednesday is only in the morning, and Thursday I'll be completely free."
"That's fine." Amara looked down at the table. "Will you know by then if you can renew the contract at a reasonable rate?"
Stavros nodded. "The negotiations part should go rather quickly. I just hope it's not as bad as my brother thinks it will be."
"If this is the first time for renegotiating the contract, why does he expect the worst?"
"He has a friend who's company got a fifty percent increase in costs. That's what has him worried. I don't know the particulars of their deal, nor does he, so who knows."
"If it's meant to be, it will be," Amara said. She let go of his hand and turned toward the ocean. The sun angled high to her left and she could feel its warm rays on the side of her face. She sighed contentedly, turning slightly toward it as she closed her eyes. "This feels wonderful."
"It's a very temperate climate," Stavros said. "Like a lot of tropical places. Low eighties during the day, mid-seventies during the night. Relatively low humidity."
"You're so romantic!" Amara said. With a laugh, she slapped his arm.
"Am I now?" he said, drawing back. "I am Greek, you know."
"And you give me a weather report."
"I've tried everything else," he said good-naturedly.
"Have you?" There was a hint of playfulness in her voice. She leaned toward him, intent on giving him a kiss, when the cook's assistant arrived with their lunch. Sandwiches made of Ahi with an avocado spread on a buttery croissant, whole or chunked fruits, a seafood soup, and a mango punch to drink.
Alone again, they enjoyed their food in silence.
'The Maya' publishes every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Copyright © Glen Anthony Albrethsen, 2014-2018. All rights reserved.