SOMEWHERE by the Sea

Commission

Michael said goodbye to Doris McGovern and disconnected his cell phone. He was well aware that she was trying to postpone his purchase of the beach house. Of course, he could contact another realtor to finish his acquisition, but he liked the McGoverns.

No doubt she had researched him on the internet and connected the dots. She may have even made inquiries of someone with inside knowledge of his private meeting with council members. He chuckled because he knew how small town politics worked. Over the years, he'd been through the process many times trying to get approval for his resorts.

He stepped away from his desk and walked to the expansive windows overlooking the Willamette River. He'd known that constructing a resort in Somewhere would involve an abundance of headaches, and that another location along the coast could easily be negotiated, but there was something about Somewhere that touched his heart.

He turned from the windows and scanned his spacious office. His company leased the entire top floor of a mid-rise in the Pearl District of Portland, and although he'd considered buying his own building, one of the reasons he was at the top of the food chain was because of wise investments, calculated spending, and low overhead in comparison to the magnitude of his company.

He had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but his father had been foolish with the management of the company inherited after his own father's untimely death. By the time Michael had taken over the reins of the business it had been well on its way to insolvency. And although his lifestyle had been luxurious growing up, he'd often wondered when his family would become tabloid fodder, as he'd watched his father's business ventures and personal life become irrational.

And then it happened. His father had put his family and business forever on the "scandalous" map when he'd met his demise at the age of fifty-two in a car accident with two hookers. The hookers had survived and sold their stories to sleazy newspapers, which ended his mother's social status, and she'd committed suicide a year later.

In a nutshell, his home life had been absurdly dysfunctional, which was one of the reasons he'd never married. Now, sixteen years later, after assuming the reins of the family business at the age of twenty-three, his company was successful and he was fabulously rich. He had much to be proud of, but, as of late, it seemed to matter less and less.

Making a spur-of-the-moment decision he strode across the room and opened his door. "Leticia, how many appointments do I have this afternoon?"

"Two, sir."

"Can they be cancelled?"

His secretary knew the company as well as he did and replied without looking at his schedule, "They sure can. Are you taking the rest of the day off?"

"I'm thinking about it."

"Well, I say go for it. George can handle any emergencies."

Michael smiled at the sixty-one year old, gray-haired secretary that had been with him for fifteen years and sometimes acted like the mother he should have had. "I'm outta here."

"Where are you going?"

"Somewhere."

Michael enjoyed the three hour drive to the coastal town and arrived a little after three. He drove through downtown and turned onto Ocean Boulevard. After passing the public beach he admired the homes, especially his, as he headed toward the marina. He felt excitement over knowing he would soon join the neighborhood. When he reached the marina he scanned the many vessels, from sailboats to fishing craft, to dinghies and small yachts, and decided it was a nice enough marina for docking his smallest yacht. He reentered the boulevard and even considered dining at Seafood Heaven, but decided against it. For now it was best to remain incognito.