“I’m not asking if it’s the correct business decision. I’m asking if it’s possible?” I clutched my cell-phone as the Fijian national on the Board of Government Assets and Sales mumbled something unintelligible.
I’d pulled every dirty trick I could to get this conversation. But it also helped that we were minor celebrities in Fiji after finally agreeing to do a small article about our life on the island.
Our glowing praise and gratefulness of such a country had gone down well with the tourism bureau and earned us a call from the Fiji president himself, expressing welcome to his great nation anytime we wanted.
Well, I wanted.
Very much.
But I didn’t want a temporary vacation.
I wanted residency.
I wanted an island.
“So...is it possible?” I prompted again.
“It—it is possible. I have to ask what sort of monetary compensation it would require.”
“Ask away. I’ll hold.”
“You want me to ask, right now?”
“Yes. This very moment.”
“Uh...okay. Hold please.” Annoying music filtered into my ear.
Pacing the balcony off our tiny apartment, I tapped my fingers against my thigh. Estelle had popped down to the beach with Coco to find shells for a sea-inspired chandelier.
Coco had spent the morning pouting and crying for the salty waves. She refused to play on the smooth surfaces of ceramic tile, preferring the roughness of nature and inconvenient reach of microscopic sand.
Come on. Come on.
I wanted this phone call finished before Estelle caught me.
I wanted this to be sorted before I told her.
Before I informed my family of what our future could be.
Finally, the hold music changed, followed by a short cough. “Mr. Oak?”
I slammed to a halt. “Yes.”
“This is Mr. Taito from the Board of Investments for Overseas Buyers. I have to say, your request is rather unusual.”
“Why? How is it unusual?”
“Well, normally a purchase inquiry is for land with more opportunity than the one you mentioned, larger, closer to other tourist islands. We are aware of your situation from the past few years and are willing to take that in to account. However, I must inform you we do not recommend—”
“That’s the one I want. Deal or no deal.”
“I see.” A short pause followed by a gruff, “As for your other terms. Am I correct in assuming you would pay for everything you mentioned? That you would expect the Fijian government to have no involvement or investment whatsoever? You also understand that if you were successful in your request that every infrastructure would be forfeit after the deal ended?”
My heart raced.
Will they go for it?
I couldn’t tell by his voice. He could be taunting me, preparing to tell me the ultimate crushing blow or he could deliver the best bloody news of my life.
“Yes, I understand. I was the one who made the clauses and conditions. I’ve given you the sweetest part of the deal. All I ask for is the land.”
“Give me another moment, Mr. Oak.”
Music replaced the conversation and I growled, resuming my pacing. A giggle sounded below as Estelle helped Coco over the wooden balustrade blocking off our apartment’s car park from the road to the beach.
Come on. Hurry the hell up.
The link crackled before Mr. Taito returned. “Although your request is highly unusual, I have some good news for you, Mr. Oak.”
I bit my lip as I air-punched the sky. Joy I never knew rushed through me. I’d finally grown up. Finally understood what I wanted in life, where I wanted to live, and who I wanted to share it with.
And now, I’d been given the permission to make it all come true.
Taking a deep breath, so I didn’t yell with happiness down the phone, I said calmly, “That’s great news. Thank you.”
Mr. Taito said, “We accept your proposed terms. $250,000 US for the right to reside on the island located at the coordinates you emailed last week. The agreement will include leasehold on the land for eighty years with the option to extend if it suits both parties at that time. The contract will be drawn up and will await your signature upon your arrival into Nadi.”
Mr Taito cleared his throat. “When will that be again?”
I smiled as the front door opened and Coco barrelled toward me. My little urchin. My island ragamuffin. My castaway princess.
She was going home.
We all were.
“We’ll be there on Friday at eleven a.m.”
Estelle raised her eyebrow as I stepped through the balcony door and scooped Coco into one arm. Her nose nuzzled my neck. “Hi, Daddy.”
“Hi, Coconut.”
“Pleasant flight then, Mr. Oak. Look forward to confirming and welcoming you to our country officially.”
“Likewise, Mr. Taito. Thanks again.”
I hung up.
Estelle dropped the plastic bag full of seashells on the table, making her way to me. “Who was that?”
My cheeks hurt from smiling. “Just a man.”
“A man?”
“A man with a contract.”
“A contract?”
I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek to stop from blurting.