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“Can we call you tomorrow?”
She sighed.
“Sure, but is it always going to be like this?”
“Nah,” I said. “I'm sure in five or six years we'll be much more relaxed about the whole
thing.”
We called the next morning.
Carol and Jeremy loved the house. They spent the week snorkeling and biking around
the island. They left a collection of sea glass on our coffee table with a thank you note.
Their last night, they got engaged.
Casa Dos Chivos was off to a good start.
☼ ☼ ☼
The bookings came in pretty steadily that first season. Our guests included a retired couple
from Rhode Island, an accountant and his girlfriend from New Jersey, and a gay couple
from Philly.
Nothing bad happened. Well, almost nothing. The island lost its water supply—not an
unusual occurrence—for the better part of a day. I called the house and apologized to our
guests, who couldn't have been more gracious.
In a month it would be time for our next trip down to the island. We asked Jane to set
aside a couple of hours to meet with us, and to invite Steve, our talented carpenter, to join
us.
It was time to get serious about gutting and renovating the lower floor.
Yikes.
☼ ☼ ☼
Without realizing it, we had developed a “Vieques arrival” ritual.
This consisted of: taking a taxi to the car rental place (we'd decided it was a waste of
Jane's time for her to pick us up at the airport); getting our rental car and driving to the
house; doing a quick walk-through, including taking an inventory of provisions and booze;
and heading to Morales to stock up on groceries and supplies.
Okay, time out for a word about Superdescuentos Morales . For starters, there's nothing
particularly super about it and it's usually unbearably crowded and the check-out people
are sometimes a tad surly. Also it frequently doesn't have what we're looking for.
But after about a year we started to like it. For one thing, it reminded us of grocery
stores from our childhoods. You know, narrow aisles, limited provisions, low expectations.
As middle-aged adults living in a large American city, we've grown used to vast, chilly
supermarkets stocking fifty-seven brands of cereal and three dozen flavors of yogurt.
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