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“How are we?”
“Oh.” I jump in my seat at the unexpected interruption. “Sorry. My mind was somewhere else.”
“It’s okay.” She giggles. “Mine would be too.” I notice she’s spotted my book.
“Yeah.” I close my eyes, embarrassed. There’s no doubt she knows it’s a spicy romance. “It’s pretty good.”
“I’ll have to check that one out. I’m reading a Nicholas Sparks book.”
I can’t help but frown. “I used to read those. But I need a guaranteed happy ending.” After what I’ve endured in real life, I need a happily ever after in my fictional one.
She gives me a kind smile and asks if I’d like anything to eat or drink. “Just a cup of coffee, please.”
“Coming right up.”
Opening my deep blue blanket, I wrap it around my shoulders and settle back into my seat. Carla, the pretty young attendant, returns moments later with a steamy cup of coffee.
“Here is some cream and sugar if you need them. And hit this bell in a bit and request the cheese plate.” She points overhead. “You should try to enjoy every perk available to our first-class travelers while you can.”
“Thank you, Carla. I will.”
Having thoroughly enjoyed my flight, Carla stops by later to advise we’ve begun our descent. The relaxed state is immediately replaced with excitement, and I put away the tray table and glance out my window to watch our entry into Jamaica.
Watching the mountainous terrain come into view, I’m disappointed I didn’t do more research on the country before my arrival. Hopefully, the driver who transports us from the airport to the resort will have some fun facts.
“Thank you for flying with us. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay.”
“Oh, I’m sure I will, Carla. Thank you for everything.”
I follow the signs to baggage claim to collect my suitcases before heading through to customs. I haven’t done a lot of international travel, but this part is always intimidating. Standing in line, I scan the area. There are several older travelers seated in wheelchairs, waiting for someone to take them through. Multiple families are here, some with young children, some older. The parents of the young tots already look exhausted, and it’s barely one o’clock. Oh, that’s right. It’s actually noon. Grinning, I realize that’s one more hour in Jamaica today.
“Next.” I look up to see the gentleman behind the glass partition waving me forward. I bring my things and hand over my passport as he gets straight to work without so much as a hello. “Who are you here with?”
“No one.”
His head snaps up, and he gives me an unnerving stare.
Jeez. Don’t judge.
“Where are you going?”
I try to recall the information I typed into the computer for the online Jamaican customs form. I rattle off the name of the resort as he continues to wordlessly type into his computer. I’d already felt odd coming on this trip alone. Now, surrounded by families awaiting the official start of their vacation, I feel even more like a fish out of water. This guy’s really not helping.
“Here you go.”
Taking my passport, I wonder if we’re done.
“Next.”
I guess that’s a yes.
Moving through the small Kingston airport, I start to feel a little anxiety. What if there’s no one here to meet me? Who would I call? What if I go to the wrong place, and they get tired of waiting and leave? But before my head can play any more tricks on itself, a tall, dark-skinned gentleman with a sign that says P. Danforth comes into view.
“Hi. I’m Poppy Danforth,” I say excitedly.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Delroy.” He reaches for my bag and walks swiftly ahead of me. Picking up my pace to keep up, I reach a white van that looks like it’s seen better days. I question if this is the right one, until he opens the back and flings my suitcase inside.
As the back door slides open for me, I discover I’m the only passenger. Climbing in, I buckle my seatbelt and wait for him to get into the driver’s seat. It dawns on me that tipping is included at this all-inclusive resort. Does that include him?
