The night air clung to the island like a damp caress, heavy with the scent of blooming jasmine and the sound of laughter carrying on the breeze.
Ricardo polished a glass with a white cloth, his eyes drifting out to the ocean as he worked, the stars reflected in the waves like a scattering of diamonds.
He had been a bartender at Campo Alegre in its heyday, when the resort was the epitome of luxury and the nights were alive with music and dancing.
As he poured a drink for a lone patron, his mind began to wander back to those golden years, to the glamorous women in their evening gowns and the sophisticated men with their martinis and cigars.
The sound of a saxophone drifted through his memories, mingling with the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses.
Ricardo's eyes sparkled as he recalled the night a famous jazz musician had played an impromptu set by the pool, the music weaving a spell over the crowd as they swayed to the rhythm under the star-filled sky.
Though Campo Alegre was no more, its legend lived on in the hearts of those who had experienced its magic, and as Ricardo locked up the bar and stepped out into the warm night, he felt the ghosts of those unforgettable nights whispering on the wind.