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"I guess." Rhea laughs. "Someone from customs came in and asked about you, but I believe Remy pays them very well to keep flight logs private. In any case, he had a passport made for you last night so that you’d stop worrying."
I have my questions about the legitimacy of any passport that can be made overnight, but decide not to voice them. I can't, however, help wonder about Remy. "Where is he, anyway?"
"He had to make a call, of course. He should be around here somewhere. And there is our car, right on time." She nods down the steps to where a nondescript black SUV is pulling in.
The driver is a middle-aged man who steps out as we reach the bottom step. He cracks a grin the minute he sees Rhea. "Long time, no see kiddo."
Up close, he doesn’t appear as old as I’d initially thought. But it doesn’t seem that time has been terribly kind to him.
Rhea only rolls her eyes. "You've gotten gray, old man." She points to her own chin, referencing his grizzled and lightening beard.
"You changed your hair, too. Blonde?" He chuckles and then nods at me. "And you gained a shadow?"
"Jovich, this is my best friend in the whole world, Claire. Claire, this is Uncle Joe."
"Oh?" The surprise is evident in my voice as I look at the man, who bears no resemblance to the Boudreaux's. His accent is decidedly not Costa Rican, though I don’t know how that sounds yet. It’s also a far cry from the American ones I’m accustomed to. "Hello." I smile at him, but it’s met with a blank stare.
"He's not blood, but he may as well be. Jovich has taken care of my family for years. I'm not sure what he could have done to be stuck playing Remy's minion, but it must be bad."
"We have a good thing going," Jovich assures her, opening the door for us to climb in, all without taking his eyes off me.
As I’m buckling myself in, the trunk opens and a man I haven't seen yet lifts our bags into the back. Remy appears shortly after, sliding into the driver's seat while Jovich takes the passenger side. I catch Remy's eye in the mirror. "Glad to see you survived being drugged by my sister. I wasn't sure there was any hope for you."
His voice is thick and smoky, chasing chills over the backs of my arms that I hope Rhea is too busy clicking around on her phone to notice.
"I'm used to her shenanigans.” I shrug, trying not to think too much into his words. “It's not the first time she's tried to kill me, and I'm sure it won't be the last."
Rhea elbows me in the ribs, and we both laugh.
Thankfully, it isn't a long ride to Remy’s place, and most of it is spent with Jovich and Rhea catching up on everything he's missed since she went away to school. I’m so enamored with the view outside the windows that I tune them out without even thinking about it. Never have I ever seen a place so vibrant and lush, like it’s straight out of a fairytale. I sat on the driver’s side and am so intent on watching all the shades of green fly by that I don't notice when the coast appears on the other side of the road.
As we approach the drive and Remy begins to slow, I can see the ocean glimmering off to the right and the treetops that dance on the other side. And just like that, I understand why their family would want to be buried halfway across the world.
It almost doesn't seem real.
It shouldn't have come as a surprise that Remy's house is mirrored just like the family home in Oregon. The front of the massive estate looks out to the mountainous forest, but as soon as we pull in front of the home, I can see that the backyard is actually a beautiful white-sand beach, beyond which I can see cerulean waves bobbing along the horizon.
"I haven't been here in years." Rhea sighs, caught in a wave of nostalgia… or maybe just inhaling the scent of coconuts, sea salt, and whiskey. I want to drown in that scent.
"This house has been in your family a while?" I ask, my eyes running along the length of the place. It’s even more impressive than their stateside home, though it is smaller and without the refined touch of the Colonial. In fact, Remy's house looks more like a sprawling cabin with tall ceilings and huge glass windows everywhere.
"It was our great grandfather's property. The guest house is actually the original." Rhea gestures to a smaller cabin to the right of the main house. It’s a more modest version of the main home, and yet it’s certainly bigger than any place I've ever lived in.
"The guest house is, regrettably, under construction." Remy turns the car off and looks over his shoulder at us. "Of course, there is plenty of space in the house."
"Really, Rem?" Rhea rolls her eyes and lets herself out of the car in a huff. "You have no faith in me, do you? You do know that I manage without you, right? I've been doing it the last three years."
"Sorry about the timing." He grumbles. "I didn't exactly plan my remodel around your visit, you know."
Rhea eyes him suspiciously as Jovich goes to retrieve our bags. "Sorry.” She mutters, reluctant. “I was just making sure you're not trying to keep me under your thumb. I know you like to think yourself to be in charge."
Remy doesn't argue the matter, but his sly smirk suggests that he doesn't have to think he is in charge. "Elaine has already prepared rooms for you, but if you want to choose another room to stay in while you're here, I'm sure she won't mind."
"We'll see." Rhea shrugs, abandoning the fight to grab my wrist and yank me toward the house with all the gusto of a child. "Come on, Claire. You're going to love Elaine!"
Remy leads us up the stone steps to a set of huge oak doors and pushes them open to reveal an impressive, sprawling foyer. In the center of it is a wide staircase that splits into two directions at the top. Sunlight pours in through the open doors near the back of the house, and the sound of the sea can be heard faintly lapping at the shore.
"Wow." It’s all I can think of to say. Words won’t do justice to a place like this.
