GEORGE TOWN, Exuma, The Bahamas -- I'm in town less than an hour and just about everyone at the pool bar at the Club Peace n' Plenty hotel knows my story.

''Oh, you're that writer that's coming to town,'' says a local real estate agent, who is lessening the disappointment of a soured deal with a little afternoon cocktail.

The hotel manager settles in for a chat and a beer, then gets edged out by the owner of a local kayaking outfitter and a would-be developer from Denver, all looking to tell their story. Lermon Rolle, the long-time bartender and ''doctor of fine arts of libation,'' keeps everybody happy.

Eventually the light wanes and with it, the afternoon crowd. A new group -- mostly expats -- gathers in the hotel's 18th century slave kitchen-turned-indoor bar where Glen Munroe -- part-time firefighter, bartender and father of 11 -- keeps track of the tabs. The aunt of a Miami colleague -- who knew she lived here? -- tracks me down, with another would-be developer in tow.

In the Exumas, that's the way of things. Been in town an hour? You're practically a local.

CHANGING FORTUNES

After all, only about 3,600 people live on its 365 cays, with about 32,000 visitors in 2006. The capital has no stoplight and only got an ATM machine in the last couple of years. Though a hospital is on the way, your best bet for an X-ray these days is at the local vet's.

But like so many of its neighboring isles, the Exumas are a place in transition, gingerly steering a future between the economic benefits of new hotels and second-home communities, and the traditional charms of an island where the pristine sea looks, as one transplant puts it, like God's finger painting, and everybody knows your name.

West of the airport, on Emerald Bay, the gracious and breezy Four Seasons Resort, opened in late 2003, marks the benefits of the future. For guests, 30 acres of luxury facilities: comfortable rooms, gourmet dining, cocktails served on the beach, an 18-hole Greg Norman golf course, casino, 32,000-square-foot spa and fitness center, tennis courts. For Bahamians: 566 jobs.

Celebs have already found the islands. Last summer, illusionist David Copperfield purchased Musha Cay, the private island where A-listers Faith Hill, Tim McGraw and Robin Williams have vacationed. After shooting in the area for Pirates of the Caribbean, Johnny Depp bought his own cay.

No surprise that land prices have skyrocketed, from a few hundred thousand dollars for a beachfront home five years ago to listings in the $2.5 million-plus range. And though real estate may be softening slightly, high-end options like the hotel-condo villas at Grand Isle and custom lots at Emerald Bay are still selling well, says Joe Scaggs, a partner in both projects. On the hotel side, several existing hotels continue to expand, a new boutique hotel is going in on Crab Cay and others are rumored.

But there are protections in place. All development must be low-rise, and the government remains sensitive to both environment and culture, says David Johnson, deputy director of the Ministry of Tourism. Most of the island land is protected, held in commonage by descendants of slaves, and cannot be sold.

For now at least, the Exumas are still a boaters' haven where you can cozy up to locals at a beach bar and wander through flats for miles without seeing another human soul.

''These are the most beautiful beaches in the world,'' says Christina Hall of Stockholm, one of the few wandering the beach of Little Exuma this day.

On the far-flung island of Staniel Cay, a boaters' hangout, new homes have sprung up and others are being planned. But for now, the ambience of this and nearby isles remains laid-back, the allures low tech: spectacular snorkeling, untouched beaches home to marine iguanas and swimming wild pigs -- capped by a beer at the friendly Staniel Cay Yacht Club.

At the Chat 'n Chill beach bar just across the bay from George Town, K.B. Bowe -- local guy turned Chicago banker turned beach bar owner -- explains that his bathrooms are always clean because ''it's women who make the decisions'' -- and dirty bathrooms translate into a quick exit. The Chat 'n Chill is the daytime fave of everybody from the megabucks yachters who come in winter to Sunday morning worshipers who pray under the trees and the Sunday afternoon beer-and-pig crowd.

On a hot afternoon, the shallow water is filled with families, couples, anglers hoisting a brew. And though you've just arrived, everybody knows your name.