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Two days later, Mia stepped off a small private jet and onto the runway at the airport in St. John. The temperature and the smell of flowers were familiar and comfortable to her Florida girl’s nose. She gripped her purse and her carryon bag and looked over her shoulder. She’d never taken private air transportation. She hadn’t the faintest clue where to go next.
“Miss Mia?” asked a tall black man wearing khakis and a dark blue polo shirt. “Miss Mia Tennyson?”
She nodded.
“I’m James. Mr. Daniels’ assistant here on the island.”
“Oh!” said Mia. “Yes, right. Wonderful. I’m so glad you found me right away!”
James smiled. “That’s my job,
Miss. Keep everything smooth for you two while you’re here. I already have them taking your luggage to the car. Why don’t you head this way?”
Mia followed James to a Mercedes SUV. She climbed into the back seat while he directed the men who handled her luggage. She took out a few dollars for tips, but James waved it away. “Mr. Daniels already sent me money to handle all that. You just relax.”
Thirty minutes later they arrived at the beach cottage Blaine had rented for them. Mia gasped as they pulled through the gate. The three-story pink stucco house was surrounded by palm trees and flowering bushes. As James led her through the front door, she marveled at the cozy mix of elegant island themed furniture and beautiful bright artwork on the walls. Wide windows let in a view of the sea, a mere twenty yards from the house’s back porch. The back porch itself opened onto a beautiful slate patio and infinity pool.
“Oh, my gosh,” Mia said.
James showed her she and Blaine’s bedroom. It faced the beach and had its own porch, so she overlooked the palm trees before she met a vista of the wide-open ocean. A breeze played over her skin and lifted her hair.
“All your things are here, Miss Mia,” said James. “If you want to unpack. I stocked the refrigerator. If there’s anything, anything at all, that you need, you just call me.” He handed her a card. “I just live right down the road. Oh—and Mr. Daniels asked me to schedule you a massage. Later this afternoon. Once you’re settled. The masseuse will set up by the pool, if that’s alright with you.”
She smiled. “It’s very, very alright.”
James laughed. “Anything you want, we’re here to help. Mr. Daniels wants you to be happy as a clam until he gets here in two days.”
Mia thanked him and flopped down on the bed. She sunk into several layers of silk sheets and blankets. She watched the ceiling fan swirl, and wondered how she ever got so lucky. To think, she’d almost turned down this experience! Thank goodness I didn’t let my own fears get the best of me. She loved her little Florida hometown, but this place was paradise.
*
The rest of that afternoon and the next morning passed in a haze of pampered relaxation. Mia read a book and several magazines. She ate fresh fruit until she was sure she’d turn orange from so many mangoes and pineapples and bananas and berries. Blaine called twice from the boat to check on her, and she blessed him for texting every couple hours as long as he had cell service. She never had time to get too worried as he motored toward St. John in the Wanderlust.
As mid-afternoon approached, and Mia returned from a walk up and down the house’s private beach, she heard the front gate buzzer ring. She answered it. “Hi, James!”
A female voice with a British accent replied. “Oh—hello?”
“Yes?”
“Is this Blaine Daniel’s house?”
“Ah, yes. It is. Can I help you?”
“Is he hanging about?”
“No. He won’t be here until tomorrow.”
“Oh, damn.” Mia heard whispering in the background, but she couldn’t make it out. “Will you buzz us in?” the woman said. “We have a housewarming gift for him.”
“Ah, okay,” said Mia. She pressed the button and went to the front door.
Two women got out of a BMW convertible. Both wore sheer cover-ups over thong bikinis. The first had red hair, the second, a short flippy blonde ‘do. They hoisted a gigantic floral arrangement from the backseat of the car.
“Hold the door?” shouted the blonde.
Mia opened it wider and backed away. The women struggled under the weight of the arrangement. They argued amongst themselves about where it should go, before finally settling on the kitchen island.
“There we are!” said the red head. “Smashing, isn’t it?”
