It’s so cool and comfy in here now that in less than five minutes, I’m dozing off.
The flights down to my island getaway are mostly uneventful. The only blip in the radar is a lightning delay due to a passing thunderstorm in my connecting city, Miami.
C’est la vie.
I just grab some lunch and wait out the weather.
It doesn’t take long, and once I’m finally on the last leg of the trip, it’s all smooth sailing from there.
I reach the private island in the Bahamas by late afternoon and have no trouble finding a cab at the airport willing to transport me over to the east end of the island where my rental property is located.
There is no rain here. In fact, the sky is super bright blue and sunny.
But it sure is hot.
Thank goodness the cab has great air-conditioning.
Since the island is so small, it doesn’t take long to reach my destination.
And, oh my, the rental is beautiful.
The house is surrounded by lush gardens and greenery, and after I pay the fare with a credit card, adding a nice tip, I step out of the cab and instantly can hear the sound of the waves hitting the nearby beach.
My own private beach.
That makes me smile.
“Aah, this really is paradise,” I remark to the cab driver, who is now out of the car as well.
Chuckling, he agrees, “It certainly is, Miss…?”
“Avery,” I provide. “But you can just call me Willa.”
“Well, Willa.” He walks around to the back of the taxi and pops open the trunk, where he takes out my three bags—two suitcases and a sizable carry-on. “I hope you have a lovely stay on our island paradise.”
“Thank you,” I reply.
I offer to try to handle everything on my own, but the kind cab driver insists on carrying my two suitcases up to the door, leaving me to deal with just the carry-on.
At the entrance, I let him know I have it from here, so he takes off.
Excited to check out the inside of the house, I key in the entry code.
But the weird thing is the lock doesn’t make any sound—no clicking, nothing.
I’m worried I put in the incorrect code and am locked out. But when I try the doorknob, it pops open.
“Okay, that’s odd,” I murmur.
I chalk it up to a glitch, or maybe the door unlocks silently.
I don’t know.
It doesn’t matter, as I’m too amped to give it another thought. I drag my two heavy suitcases into the entry area, noticing how nice and cool it is in here, and drop my carry-on and purse onto the parquet floor.
I also kick off my strappy sandals.
I’ll worry about gathering up all of this crap later.
