on the lights, and surveyed the room. The floor and counters were littered with tiny black dropping the size of small rice kernels. Ant highways trailed along baseboards, up walls, and across the ceiling. The refrigerator was warm inside and she couldn’t find a microwave, but the sink produced both hot and cold water and the gas stove worked.
In the master bedroom, she sat on the bare mattress and texted Devora.
Ellie: Arrived. House is a dump.
Devora: Keys work?
Ellie: Yes but house is filthy.
Devora: Electricity on?
Ellie: Yes but bugs in kitchen and massive cockroaches in bathroom.
Devora: Live ones?
Ellie: Not anymore.
Devora: Mattress there?
Ellie: Yes but nothing else.
Devora: Lost ur credit card?
Ellie: No.
Devora: So get to work.
Ellie sent an emoji with its tongue sticking out.
Devora: Viv pass inspection?
Ellie: Yes. He’s lovin’ the bugs.
Devora: Right. Stand ur shoes up at night. Helps keep out poisonous centipedes.
Ellie: WTF. How much she pay for this place?
Devora: Over 4M.
Ellie: She got shafted.
Devora: Location. Remember, ur in paradise.
Ellie wandered toward the front of the house, opening every screened window along the way. When she reached the porch, she righted the deck chair and called Celine.
“Thought I might hear from you about now. Been to the beach yet? Show me some video.”
I should show you a video of the kitchen. I know how much you love the six-legged set . Instead, Ellie switched to a video call and panned across the long garden.
“Awesome.” Celine’s face registered genuine astonishment.
“See all the vines? The place needs serious work. And not only outside. The inside’s a disaster area.”
Celine brushed her hand across the screen as though chasing away an annoying fly. “Did you see those flowers? And the ocean? Walk me over there.”
Ellie traipsed across the lawn. Celine informed her along the way about the plants they passed—sago palm, plumeria, pendent heliconia, ornamental bananas, blue ginger, longhorn.
“When’d you get your botany degree?”
“My mom loves gardening.”
“My mom loves ancient Greek.”
“Less practical. Now walk into the water and tell how warm it is.”
Ellie kicked off her sandals and pointed the phone at her toes. She clambered over the black lava rocks that littered the shore’s edge.
“Ouch.”
“Be careful. Don’t drop me.”
Ellie laughed. “I appreciate the concern. You should have come inside when you dropped me off at the airport. I knocked over a whole row of those metal posts they have to mark the lines.”
“Sorry I missed it.”
Ellie reached a sandy section and stepped into the smooth, clear water. “Wow. It’s warm.”
“How warm?”
“Not quite like a bathtub. But comfortable.”
“It’s so clear.”
“The sand is soft.” She wiggled her toes to bury them.
“How soft?”
“Well, not like a rabbit. Kind of like…cream of wheat?”
“Thanks for the image of your feet in my breakfast bowl.”
“How about a plush towel?”
“Better.”
Ellie watched her own legs on the screen, her navy linen capri pants legs ballooning in the gently flowing ripples, her deep red toenails shimmering in the afternoon sun. She sighed.
“I heard that. Sounded like the sigh of someone in paradise.”
Later, back on the porch, Celine suggested Ellie make a Target run.
“Your immediate problems are nothing a little elbow grease and Clorox can’t fix.”
Ellie nodded slowly. “And ant traps. Do you think they make gecko traps?”
“Probably.”
“Should I leave Viv here by himself?” She turned the phone to show Celine the image of Viv throwing himself high against the living room wall to catch a gecko.
“He knows where his litter box is?”
“I showed it to him.”
“Then leave him. That cat thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. And if they don’t sell gecko traps, you’re going to