Okay, I misnamed the story—it should have been something like First Time in the Caribbean, but I can't change it, apparently; hence the contradiction in number of days.
This day is pretty clean—I need it to set up the environment. After you read this, if you want more action, look for Day 3.
Summary: On the first day he connected with a flight attendant, but she disappeared before he woke up.
Asch tucked the thank-you note into his billfold. "Ah well," he thought, "a new life lay ahead. No sense moping about the past, even a good past." Asch cleaned up, put his pack of things together, and headed out. He checked her door; locked. Presumably she had left on the first flight out. From this locale, probably the only one. Oh well, life is full of adventures, and that was certainly an adventure.
He decided to do breakfast at Momma Rita's, then on impulse turned in at another, smaller, 24-hour café named Anchovie's. The place was narrow and deep, a lunch counter with stools along one side, booths along the other. A row of tables down the middle. The walls had photos of what looked like a family of fisher folk.
It was on the early side, and the place wasn't very busy. He took a seat at the counter and looked over the menu. Typical American breakfast fare, with a mix of Caribbean items. He did a double-take when the waitress came to take his order. He had seen her somewhere, and her sleeveless white blouse had one too many buttons unbuttoned, making her fun to look at. Her well-placed name tag said "Octavia." She smiled. "I was your waitress at Rita's last night. That was the first time I've ever seen Mary with a date, by the way. You must be pretty special."
"I don't know about that, but it was an interesting evening. We watched the storm come in. I was doing research on places to stay and she recommended Rita's as a source of local info, though I never got around to talking with any of the staff there about it. I was on my way there this morning, then decided to stop in here. I see the staff is the same. Do you ever get to go home and sleep?" he asked.
"Nah, I'm the only one who's at both places. It's convenient to come here after my shift at Rita's. The money's good, and working straight through the night is a decent if unhealthy schedule, and the folks here are pretty nice. The regulars who come in before the drunks in the wee hours are usually pretty good tippers. I'm almost done with my shift here now, and yes, I'm looking forward to bed. To sleep," she added unnecessarily.
He ordered breakfast. She came back while the cook did his job, so he asked, "So what do you know about Mortensen's, that place back in the hills?"
"She's quite a lady. Widowed, has some goats and chickens, which isn't exactly odd for around here, and a nice garden which also isn't odd, but she reads scientific journals, speaks a couple languages, and does a few other things, like some civic volunteering over on the east side. Oh yeah, she owns a huge telescope and a bunch of weather instruments. She's harmless, though. Her renters either stay forever or they last about a week."
"Maybe I'll go see if she has anything to rent. It'll be a nice walk if nothing else."
"The place is easy enough to find. I hope you like walking, though. It's about half an hour on foot; a lot less if you have a bike."
"Well, no bike yet, so I'll walk." His eyes followed her as he ate breakfast, helped by the large mirror on the wall. She filled out her blouse nicely. "This island is just full of nice scenery," he thought to himself.
She moseyed back, coffee pot in hand. "Say, if you can stick around for a few minutes, I can take you to where you can get a bike."
"I can do that. The chance to get to know a native who can show me around a bit is a bonus." He resisted saying 'good-looking native.'
They walked companionably a few blocks, she pointing out and commenting on businesses they passed. Almost all of them had at least some tourist orientation. A produce store (good, run by a nice elderly couple), another produce store (bad, run by a sleaze). Several clothing stores, lots of trinket traps, a few services, mostly insurance, finance, or real estate. She pretty much blew them all off. "Wait until you've been around awhile and get to know a few folks before you decide whom to do business with."
Good advice in any case, and he remarked on her correct use of "whom."
She laughed. "So I paid attention in English class. The teacher was my mom."
Not far from a cruise ship terminal they came upon a bike shop, Bill's Bikes. It had lots of rentals for tourists, repair shop in the back, (Asch thought he could make out someone's head), new and used bikes for sale on racks. Pictures of a fishing family on the walls. He recognized a couple from the restaurant. "So are these photos standard island fare?" he asked.
"Actually, they're my family. Or ancestors. The fishing around here has kind of turned into tourism, but they're good photos. My twin brother runs the store. Fraternal twin. That way I get to be better looking," she quipped.
