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electrical wiring. The inspectors just left.”
    â€œHow’d we do?”
    â€œWe’re good to go. Everything looks good, no problems. I’m headed down with the paperwork now.”
    â€œOkay, I’ll meet you at the trailer in a few minutes. I gotta get out of this suit and into some real clothes,” he said as he walked across the main grounds to the row of trailers.
    â€œHeads up, we have visitors on site.”
    â€œWhat visitors?” Jordan asked cautiously. “Tamika didn’t tell me we were having visitors today.”
    â€œI believe they were unplanned. Tamika told me that two women from the local museum are here. They’re waiting at the trailer.”
    â€œWhat do they want? A donation or something?” he asked.
    â€œDon’t know.”
    â€œAll right, I’ll deal with it,” Jordan said just as he stepped out onto the wooden deck outside the trailer. He stopped and looked around at the activity on the work site surrounding him. This was his element. Construction was in his blood. He looked up at the main structure. Although it was not nearly complete, the building was certainly taking shape.
    What was once a run-down hotel was now well on its way to becoming a profitable corporate resort. He nodded his approval as he looked at the facade of bricks that covered the face of the structure. Seeing his creation come to fruition always gave him a feeling of accomplishment. He looked up at the sun then back down again, appreciating the way the beam of sunlight played across the building exterior. The rays of sunlight twinkled as they bounced off the building’s large glass windows, a detail that had been part of his design, which was meant to be carefully integrated into its natural setting. In Jordan’s mind he imagined the finished structure, and it was perfection.
    This was why he became an architect. After spending several years with a Los Angeles architectural firm and now working with his brothers, he had honed his design skills to perfection. Each building he worked on had its own unique appeal. Some were simple structures, while others were massive edifices designed to take your breath away. But this one was different. This was the Hamilton brothers’ project from beginning to end. He and Julian had scouted locations. Darius had purchasedthe land and gotten the financing. But it was Jordan who was in charge and bringing their vision to life.
    Several workers waved as he passed by. Jordan returned the friendly greetings. These were the men and women he related to best. They worked with their hands and created something out of nothing. He arrived at the trailer and went inside. He looked around. There was no one there. Apparently the visitors had decided to leave. He dropped his briefcase on the desk then went to the large drawing table and pulled the rolled-up plans from the tube. He spread them out and looked them over for the thousandth time. He knew where every brick, pane of glass and screw would be set. He was proud of this building and knew this was only the beginning. What started out as a small hotel turned into a resort and then finally into the Hamilton Resort Complex.
    He changed his clothes in his private room in the back of the trailer and then returned to the drawing table. As soon as he pulled out the blueprints for the electrical, his cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID then picked up. “Hello, Mrs. Gates,” he said cordially.
    â€œHello, Jordan, now you’ve been here on Crescent Island for months. I think it’s high time you call me Mamma Lou, don’t you? Your brothers do, everybody else does, and I insist.”
    â€œOf course, Mamma Lou, what can I do for you?”
    â€œThat’s better. Now, I’m just calling to remind you of the small gathering up at the house this weekend for the Gates Heritage Foundation. Remember, it’s very informal, nothing big and fancy. It’s just