Welcome to Paradise by Rosalind James

alliances with members of different teams. You need to be thinking strategically.”
    “It seems to me, though,” she said carefully, “that it’s going to work best if we get friendlier with the people we already like, who already like us. It’s what Cliff said. The main thing is not having your group want to vote you off. And actually, you know,” she couldn’t help adding, “thinking strategically is my job. That’s what management consultants do.”
    “You’ve never been the senior consultant on the team, though, have you?” he retorted. “You’re an information gatherer, not the one who draws the conclusions. If you were, you’d see that you can’t just take what Cliff tells us as gospel. That’s what he wants you to think. Use your brain. Think it through. What’s he leaving out? That when a homestead is deciding who leaves, they’re also thinking about who’s going to be leaving the other homestead. They’ll want to leave their own homestead stronger, and the other one weaker. That’s what I’m mainly worrying about, those times when your homestead wins and does the voting. And don’t think for a moment that the others aren’t going to be thinking about their own team. Alliances are everything out here, and we need to be on the same page with that.”
    “I’m not so sure you’re right about that,” Mira countered doggedly. She hated arguments, but his assumption that her team would want to vote her out, his dismissal of her professional experience had stung. When she’d confided her frustration in her role, she’d never imagined that he’d use what she’d said against her.
    “OK,” she conceded, “I’m not the senior person at work, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have any strategic input. And I think the homesteads might become more cohesive than you’re imagining. People form tribes and cliques really easily. I’ve seen that a lot. It seems to me that what will matter most is who the group doesn’t want to live with anymore. I think our best bet is just to work hard and get along, each of us, where we are.” And she knew she had a lot better head start on that than Scott did, whatever he said.
    He sighed. “Sweetheart. You know you’re a little unworldly, don’t you? Come on, now. You know that.”
    “Maybe I am,” she said, struggling to maintain her belief in her opinion. “But I’m pretty sure I’m right about this.”
    “You’re very sweet,” Scott said, his tone softening now, becoming affectionate. “And that’s your problem. You think everyone else is as nice as you, and that everyone plays by the rules they learned in kindergarten. Don’t you think that I know just a little more about how people maneuver and scheme, how to get them to do what I want, than you do? You don’t exactly have your dad wrapped around your finger, do you?”
    “No,” she said, the familiar hurt slashing at her self-confidence. “But that’s different. And I still think . . .”
    “Don’t think,” he coaxed. “You’re a nice, nonthreatening person, and people like you. That’s what you bring to the table. All I’m asking is, use a little more of that niceness on Martin and Melody. Because I’ve noticed you haven’t gone out of your way with them, or with Arlene either. You’ve been pretty cold and distant, in fact, and they’ve noticed. That’s not the way to get along out here. Don’t you think you ought to have been a little more friendly?”
    “I thought I was being nice,” she said with dismay. “Have I really seemed unfriendly?” Had Martin said something about her to Scott? “I didn’t mean to be. But . . .”
    “No buts,” he said, reaching out with his index finger to tap her on the nose. “You just work on that, and we’ll be all set. Now you go on over there and get started, and I’ll start charming my ladies.”
    He set off to join his homestead again, catching up with Arlene and Lupe and leaving Mira struggling with the logical argument