Lynn, my friend who co-owns this house with me, had finally arrived in Tarpum Bay. She flew in on Bahamas Air, which arrived in the Rock Sound Airport at 4:44 in the afternoon, just 7 minutes after Pineapple Express—which arrived 15 minutes after Southern Express.
Sounds like a busy little airport, doesn’t it? Just be aware that all three planes are prop commuters, all come from Nassau and on this day the highest passenger count on any one flight was four. Not to mention the fact that they all three arrive from the same place, and within an hour’s time frame.
Don’t ask me why. What I know is that because they each leave at approximately the same time, and because 4 :30 PM is the latest scheduled flight in to our airport, chances are good that if you are trying to make connections to get here, you may not make it the whole way in the same day. That means you get to experience an evening (and maybe part of the next day) in Nassau. Add a couple hundred dollars on to your travel expenses, if that happens. For that you can get a night in a no-tell motel where your dinner consists of potato chips and fruit-flavored soda because there’s no restaurant within walking distance of your lodging.
At any rate, Lynn arrived bearing two 50 pound suitcases and a carry-on,and I met her in one of Mr. Godfrey’s super special rental cars, with the steering wheel on the right side and a lot of dents on the left front fender. Godfrey doesn’t bother hisself with amenities like gas, either, so I had to stop at Mr. Kinky’s shell station and buy 20 dollars worth—which barely moved the needle off empty, given the shudderingly high Bahamas gas prices. I opened the minuscule trunk of the Japanese import to load the suitcases, glad that Miss Brenda and I had cleaned out the trunk before I left Tarpum Bay.
Now THAT had been an interesting moment, too. Turns out the car had been used by a female friend of Godfrey’s up until the time he found a live customer (me) to rent it. The ‘friend’ had left her belongings in the trunk: a glittery gold over sized purse, one high-heeled boot with fake leopard spots, two shocking pink sandals, a huge pair of gleaming silver earrings, a beaded bracelet and a backpack stuffed full of what felt like clothes.
Brenda was scandalized.
“Miss Judy! Godfrey shouldn’t of rent you that car! No tellin’ whose things these be! We should tro ’em away!”
I tell Brenda that we will just tuck them over in one corner of the trunk. Somewhere, there’s a woman who needs her other boot, I say. Brenda’s face frowns with disapproval. At least the trunk is clear enough for one of Lynn’s bags.
The other bags we hoist into the back seat, and head for home. Lynn exclaims over the newly painted sign for the furniture store, and I tell her the story about the school bus which ran off the road and has been left in the scrub brush at the side of King’s Highway for over two weeks. Kervin’s son Kelly appears just as we arrive at our doorstep, and helps us with the bags and the 5 gallon water jug I left at the bottom of the front steps, hoping that a strong person would come along. We are all excited: she’s brought coffee, trail mix,dried fruit,chocolate—even a couple of still-frozen steaks! Life is good.
Lynn unpacks, and we feast on stuffed crab and pineapple tarts from Miss Barbie’s Take-away. Exhausted, we go to bed early. I can only hope Mr. Godfrey’s lady friend comes during the night to get her stuff out of the car.