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Two more trips to the island and it would be time to put the house on the rental market.
We couldn't possibly be ready—except of course we had to be.
Late summer whizzed past in a blur of list-making.
We talked with Jane an average of three times a week and Steve at least once or twice,
mainly about putting the finishing touches on the kitchen.
The new stove, which we'd bought earlier in the year from the same dusty furniture store
in Isabel where Jane had ordered the air conditioner, finally arrived from wherever it had
been languishing in back-order land. Steve slotted it into the space where the old stove had
served as a placeholder the past few weeks. Jane called us the next day, exultant. “It's a real
kitchen now!”
Meanwhile back in D.C. we tentatively began emailing a few friends and colleagues
photos of the house.
Except for our families, we hadn't said much about our Puerto Rican adventure to any-
one. As the place took shape, however, we began thinking about rolling it out to prospective
renters and took a set of staged photos to post online.
Nothing fancy, just an exterior shot or two, three or four photos of the great room, a
couple of the kitchen, one of the bedroom.
The response from our circle of friends was sometimes puzzling.
“I always had you pegged as the European type,” our neighbor, Tony, remarked. “Why
didn't you buy a house in France?'
I didn't know how to answer this question without seeming rude. We had never even
considered buying a house in France. We had wanted a house in Vieques and that was where
we'd bought one. I decided to be as vague as possible.
“Oh, you know, the beach and all.”
“The beach? That's so bad for your skin.”
Okay, my mistake. We clearly should have taken a poll of our friends' likes and dislikes
before buying our second home.
“And the laid-back lifestyle,” I tossed in, trying to shore up my faltering case.
“If peace and quiet are what you want, why not move to West Virginia?”
Excuse me, did you say West Virginia? I mean, I know it's a beautiful state and all, but
not exactly the exotic locale with year-round-perfect-weather we were going for.
But at least one friend immediately recognized the brilliance of our choice.
“Oh my God, I've always wanted to visit Puerto Rico. Do you have a guest room?”
☼ ☼ ☼
In fact, we got lots of puzzling questions from family and friends during those first few
months. The most common, of course, was why we'd bought a house on a tropical island
we'd visited only once before.
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