Page 5 of Flyboy

“Visit.” He shrugged. “It’s true. The beaches are beautiful. You go visit there once, and you will be counting the moments until you come back to the south. Here you can see the beautiful beaches and the buildings and the mountains and also get all your work done.” He nodded. Then they pulled up in front of a large home.

“Are we here?” She pulled up her phone to check the address. “Yes, looks like it.” It was surrounded by a gate, and two large parrots sat on either pedestal in the front.

“They’re gorgeous. Why don’t they fly?”

“They’re trained. Probably. I don’t know.” He didn’t seem as intrigued or as excited to talk about the birds. “This house is a good one. I know the owner. She take care of you.” He brought her bags to the front gate and clapped his hands. “Oi de casa!”

A window upstairs opened, and a smiling older woman in her fifties leaned her head out the window. “Oh, Roberto. Hello, Ivy. You must be my new guest?”

“I am. I think Mr. Bushman must have called to set this up?”

The house was white stucco, brilliant in the afternoon sun, which felt warm on her face in a pleasant way; the air was chillier than she expected.

“Yes, he did. Come on in. Roberto, please bring that woman’s bags inside.”

“For you, for her, I will do it. You are staying in the finest house in our city.”

Ivy smiled. “It is beautiful.” A large awning ran along the front, and the door was the brightest blue she had ever seen.

The woman opened it with another large, white-toothed smile, her curls piling around her face, tickling her forehead. She leaned in, kissing each of Ivy’s cheeks. “Bem vindo mi filha.”

“Oh,Obrigada.” Ivy felt flustered for a moment. The charming welcome was so sincere, so full of happiness, and the kisses—she wasn’t used to it, but it made her smile. “I’m Ivy Hatfield.”

“Fatima. Everyone just calls me Fatima.”

“Fatima. It’s good to meet you. Thank you for having us.”

“I was so happy to get the call. I denied every other rental request so that I could have the American pilots come stay at my house.” She stepped back and indicated they should come in. “Roberto, once you put her bags in the yellow room, come into the kitchen for somesuco.”

Roberto’s face wrinkled with a brilliant smile. “She makes the bestsuco de Aracaju.”Mmmm.

“Come in, come in.” She led the way into a bright and open front room. The windows were opened, no screens blocked their view.

Ivy let some of the tension tightening her shoulders release. “This is such a beautiful home.”

“Oh, thank you. It’s been in our family for five generations. Please make yourself comfortable. All the main rooms are open to our guests. Just the family rooms are private. The back yard is for your use, and you will notice a pretty path down the way there. If you go for a mile or so, you will see a waterfall.”

“I’m sure I will be very comfortable here. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, you go, feel free to freshen up, rest, or whatever you like, dear. I’ll bring up some refreshments in just a moment.”

Ivy smiled and made her way to the back of the house and up a set of stairs. Her room sat in the back corner. It was large with a huge, soft-looking bed in the middle of the room against the back wall. Two windows overlooked the green rolling hills that seemed to stretch in every direction.

Her smile started small, but soon, she was rocking back and forth from heel to toe and grinning from ear to ear. A noise at her door turned her head, looking for her promised refreshment. “Fatima, this view. I could look all day . . .” She turned to congratulate her hostess.

But instead of Fatima, Flyboy stood in the doorway.

Her energy left her as quickly as it had come. “Oh.”

“Hey.” Flyboy nodded his head. “So, you’re here and got settled in?”

“Just arrived, yes.”

“Omar and I came together. He’s down at the end of the hall that way.”

She nodded.

“And I’m right next door.”

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