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her laptop on the floor, made a quick recovery, and stood. “My turn then.”
    She grabbed a couple of items from her suitcase and rushed into the bathroom.
     
    Chapter Four
 
    BY NINE-THIRTY the next morning Kirin and Silke were back at the airport with at least a hundred other passengers waiting to get transporta tion to the outer islands. The atmosphere had calmed considerably from the d ay before, and Silke could only assume that everyone had slept some where the night before.
    Kirin suggested that Silke wait near the gift shop with their luggage and went to the ticket counter to find out the status of the outgoing flights.
    After so many trips to Belize, Silke had slipped easily into the slower way of life almost as soon as they had landed. The first few times when she had traveled with Rachel, it would take at least forty-eight hours to re-acclimate to the manaña mentality. Now it felt natural to slow down as soon as she boarded the plane. Hurricanes notwithstanding.
    The hum of voices, luggage wheels on stone floors, and the whirring of the overhead fans lulled Silke into a comfortable state. The scent of fresh-brewed coffee drifted out of one of the shops behind her.
    Meeting Kirin Foster had turned out to be a serendipitous event. Her first impression was that she was excitable and short-tempered. Then sur prisingly, after they had dinner and returned to the room, conversation had flowed easily between them.
    With this glitch in her travel plans, Silke acknowledged that a tempo rary travel companion benefited her so far.
    “Looks like our luck has changed. The sun dried out the landing strip in San Pedro and the commuter planes started taking off. I think he said we would be on the third flight.” Kirin sat down heavily on the wooden chair next to Silke and handed her a boarding pass.
    “That’s good news,” Silke said. “Thank you for wading through that crowd and getting us booked. I really appreciate it.”
    “No problem. I’m as excited as you are to get out of here,” Kirin said, then started sniffing loudly. “Something yummy is wafting from that café upstairs. Are you hungry?”
    Silke laughed. “Do you mean to tell me the complimentary breakfast of an egg sandwich on toast and a glass of Tang two hours ago didn’t hold you?”
    “Oh my God, what a joke. Seriously, who serves that powdered orange stuff anymore?” Kirin grimaced.
    “I would really love a good cup of coffee and a fry jack,” Silke said, pulling some Belizean dollars from her wallet for Kirin.
    “Done.”
    The smell of coffee and the rustling of wax paper announced Kirin’s return. She handed both to Silke without a word and sat down.
    “Thanks, this is delicious, , ” Silke said.
    Kirin mumbled a response and ate her fry jack.
    While they waited in silence, the crowds thinned as various flights de parted. When their flight was called, they walked outside and boarded in the same illusory silence that Silke could not put her finger on. Was it stress over work, or something else? Whatever it was, it wasn’t her busi ness.
    At a low altitude, the flight in the eight-passenger puddle jumper to Ambergris Caye took only twenty minutes across open water. Silke en joyed watching the small islands emerge, covered in green foliage—a topographical paradise so close. Closer to the relaxation and safety she craved, it was dreamy. She glanced at her frowning seatmate, still curious about her dark mood.
    The small plane bounced down on the muddy runway. Well, the only runway , Silke thought. As soon as they were on the ground walking to the terminal, Kirin fumbled for her cell phone.
    “Esther. It’s me. We’re on the ground in San Pedro. I know you didn’t have much time, but I have to find a place to stay.” There was a pause. “No, this isn’t like landing at LaGuardia. I am surrounded by palm trees, not hotels.” Kirin rotated her head.
    Silke now had a better idea where Kirin’s frustration came from but dared not