Orange You Sorry? - The Coconut Chronicles: Two Guys, One Caribbean Dream House - page 75

during our February shopping blitz in San Juan was now unpacked, wiped down, brushed
off, and in place—sofa, coffee table, wicker armchairs, the works.
But one major piece was missing: a large mahogany corner cabinet with louvered
doors. Ironically, this was the most expensive piece of furniture we'd bought, not to men-
tion the largest. We were mystified by its absence. Another question for Daniel, if we ever
got to talk to him.
After our recent contretemps with Rod we hadn't exactly expected Daniel to sprint to
the phone and call us, but we had thought we'd hear from him at some point.
The silence, however, was deafening.
In total frustration I dialed his cellphone later that morning and was astonished when
he picked up.
“Happy birthday!” he exclaimed.
“Thanks,” I said, flattered in spite of myself that he remembered. “By the way, Rod
may have told you we have a few questions. Could you stop by later today? We leave to-
morrow.”
“Absolutely,” was his prompt reply. “I'll be right there.”
“Maybe he's realized what an ass he's been,” I said to Michael when I hung up.
“And maybe someday pigs will grow cute little wings and become airborne,” he said
with a nod and patted me on the back.
☼ ☼ ☼
Within twenty minutes Daniel was on our doorstep.
I offered him a seat. He said he'd rather stand. I expected him to begin looking at his
watch any second.
“How's everything?” I asked tentatively, determined to make our encounter as pleasant
as possible.
“Good,” he snapped.
Didn't sound so good to me.
“I'm not sure if Rod mentioned it or not, but this isn't the color we picked out,” I began,
gesturing widely around the room.
“Yep, he told me,” he said, arms folded defiantly across his chest.
“In a nutshell, Daniel, it's the wrong color.”