I don’t have time to sit in front of my computer for three hours a day taking online video courses. And the handful of posts I’ve managed to put up on our website and the one languishing social media account for the resort have had exactly zero effect.

I stick my hands into the pockets of my dress pants and watch the sunlight play on the water.

The gate leading to the locker rooms and on to the guest room creaks open and the sound gives me a flash of hope. Perhaps the guests just don’t get up as early as they used to. Perhaps—

It’s only Jerry, the guy who cleans the pool. He shoots a suspicious look out of the corner of his eye in my direction as he pulls the gate shut behind him.

“Morning, boss,” he says, and his voice is echoed and distorted by the curve of the building over the gate.

“Jerry. How’s your wife recovering from her surgery?” Knee surgery, two weeks ago.

“She’s good. Doing a lot better.”

“Glad to hear it.”

I don’t have to think too hard to imagine how this is going to play out. Fewer guests having fun at the pool means fewer people thinking this resort is the place to be. An empty resort hotel will mean we sell less of the private homes on the club side. From there, it’s a quick slide into bankruptcy.

“You look pretty solemn for this early in the morning.”

The gravelly voice belongs to Beau, one of my younger brothers. He pads across the tile barefoot, his summer chinos and polo shirt rumpled. His hair matches the rest of his look. To top it off, he is holding a cocktail in one hand.

“You look like shit for this late in the morning.”

He gives this assessment a smiling nod. “Do you always stare out at the pool like a lonely old man?”

“I’m problem-solving. Someone has to do it while the likes of you party all night.” My youngest brother, Huck, is the most likely of us to join Beau in his revelries, but even Huck doesn’t take it to the limit like Beau does.

He looks thoughtful. “I think at this point we should ask ourselves—will I party for the rest of the day?”

“I think we should ask ourselves whether our family business can support your endless social engagements.”

Beau puts his free hand to his chest like I’ve wounded him. “They’re not just social engagements, Roman. You know that. I’m networking. I’m bringing in business. Meanwhile, you’re sulking by the side of the pool.”

“I told you, I’m—”

He waves me off. “Problem-solving never gets you anywhere. You still think you have to do everything by yourself. Frankly, brother, you’re not very good at it.”