Rum Punch Regrets Read Online Free PDF Page B

from being a jolting surprise to a blessing in a just a couple of hours.
    All this and it wasn’t even noon yet.
    Welcome to the island . . .

CHAPTER THREE
    The thick Caribbean humidity was beginning to take its toll on Abby. Sitting at a table on the patio at Ricky’s, she waited patiently for a very late Ben to join her for their get-to-know-your-roomie dinner. Already on her second rum punch, she was jiggling the ice cubes in the cup as she waited to order number three. Abby was nervous, but ready to meet Ben. All she could do was hope he was the understanding type.
    #
    Abby had begun the day by placing a call to her sister, which had promptly been sent to voicemail. She followed up by sending her the obligatory “What the hell were you thinking?” email while wishing there were some way she could send a good ass-kicking instead of flowers to her doorstep. Obviously a conversation with Leigh was out of the question at this point -- at least until she decided to return Abby’s messages.
    Maria then had gotten Abby settled in the small office off the main kitchen, where Abby would be making her calls to schedule the repairmen. Being used to the “go-get-’em” attitude of the States, Abby was expecting to place a call and have the repairmen over for an estimate within a few hours. As she opened the Yellow Pages for the island, she found that there were only three roofing companies to pick from. The first two didn’t have voicemail, much less answer the phone. The third try was her lucky charm, as someone named Buddy answered and agreed to come by. In three days.
    “Three days? Buddy, is there anything I can do to get you to come sooner?”
    Buddy’s end was silent as he thought. Then, “No.”
    Okay. “I’ll pay more. We can pay a little bit extra on top of the fee to get you here?”
    Silence again. “Mmmmm. No. Sorry, Miss George. I got tings to do. Leavin’ today for fishin’. But I see you in tree days.”
    So he was going fishing. Abby felt her frustration welling up inside of her, but decided that if it had to be “tree” days, then it would be. She agreed to his terms and opted to let it go for the time being.
    She spent the rest of her day hustling around, jumping at the mere sound of Maria’s voice and her delivery of orders to prep La Cantina. She helped polish, shine, dust, sweep, launder and replace linens. Maria allowed her one last lovely, luxurious long shower in the main home before having Ziggy grab her bags and help her get set up in the pool house, air mattress and all.
    “An air mattress? Ziggy . . . I mean, really? I go from ‘I’m living in this gorgeous home’ to ‘Here’s your air mattress and a hole under the stairs’?”
    Ziggy chuckled. “Miss Abby, you will not be sleeping under the stairs. You have a roof over your head! What more do you need?”
    Ziggy was already walking away from Abby, headed to the pool house with the air mattress tucked under one arm and one of her suitcases dangling at the end of the other.
    The pool house was not as large as Abby had originally imagined. Granted, from the outside the size was deceiving; it looked small because the width was not grand. Yet the length was amazing -- it stretched back into the tropical foliage, almost disappearing as if into a miniature rainforest. From her first glance, she guessed the living room to be the size of the bedroom she had just slept in the night before.
    Ziggy had begun rooting around in an alcove off to the side of the living room. It was a small area. It looked about 5 x 10, had curtains and was the size for . . . Wait, Abby thought, is he taking the air mattress out of the box and putting it there? Am I not getting a door at least?
    “Ziggy, is that my place? Or are you adding some more seating?”
    “No, man. I’m making your bed nice and firm now, Abby. Blow it up with the hair dryer and cap it for you.” His head nodded and the dreadlocks bounced as he began to inflate her new bed.
    Unreal!