In the center of the room, a giant tree trunk extended through a hole in the floor and continued through the ceiling to the upstairs. A set of stairs curved around the tree to what Cassidy assumed was the bedroom. Between the front door and these stairs sat a simple futon couch with end tables crafted from gnarled hardwood. Cassidy set her pack by the couch and walked further into the room, admiring the warm feel of the wood, and the way she felt part of the forest. The main floor extended to a covered porch, which felt as if it hovered above the ground. A set of wood rocking chairs sat waiting for the next sunset, and a square wooden table between them held pair of large binoculars and what looked to be a bird identification book.
She looked at Mel who stood mixing drinks at the kitchen counter, and noticed a small office space against the wall adjacent to it consisting of a roll-top desk and stool with a gooseneck lamp. “This is amazing,” Cassidy said, dutifully amazed at the airy, open feel of being high in the trees. She could tell her compliment pleased him, because he gave her a rakish grin. Though the sun had long since set, she imagined a sweeping view over the gray-green canopy that sloped down to the shiny sea. She realized that the sunrise would be stunning, and wondered what it would be like to drink coffee from this very porch with Mel at her side.
A breeze blew softly from the ocean. She realized how sticky and salty her skin felt.
“You don’t happen to have a shower up here, do you?” she asked.
He raised an eyebrow. “But of course.” He used a long metal stir stick from one of the drinks to point in the direction around the deck’s corner. “Help yourself. Towels are in the cupboard.”
Relieved, Cassidy went to her pack and grabbed a set of clothes, then followed the deck around the corner. A low partition made of frosted glass blocks ended in a stone wall with a simple spigot. The concrete floor sloped into a shallow bowl with a drain in the center. She stripped down and in moments, the warm, clean water slid over her skin. Above her, a screened roof had collected a handful of large leaves. Beyond, she recognized several constellations. She scrubbed in the vanilla-scented shampoo, knowing she was hurrying, pulled by the anticipation she’d experienced since getting into Mel’s jeep.
She turned off the water and dried off with a soft, fluffy towel. She squeezed out her long hair then stepped into her clothes—nothing special, she realized with dismay—a blue T-shirt (had she slept in this one?) and pair of long hiking shorts.
Mel sat in one of the leather-backed rocking chairs on the deck. The bird book and binoculars had been put away, and two plates, cloth napkins, and silverware were placed on the small table along with a candle and two tall glasses filled with ice and something fizzing. Music played from inside—some kind of soothing Latin instrumental. Cassidy settled into the comfortable rocker.
“Thanks for doing all of this,” Cassidy said, trying not to feel overwhelmed. It was her last day of vacation, why shouldn’t she spend it with a handsome friend-in-the-making who seemed content to take care of her?
As if on cue, he answered, “It’s my pleasure.” They clinked glasses and Cassidy sipped from the drink, the ice cubes clashing into her teeth. It tasted of fresh mint, with lime, and a hint of sugar.
They dug into the food, a kind of Asian bowl with rice, grilled cabbage, and fish in a spicy sauce. “So how did you find this place?” Cassidy said.
“I didn’t.” Mel gave her an amused glance. “I built it.”
Cassidy’s eyes popped open. “You did?” She looked around at all the details. “Wow.”
“I had some help. Like with the railing,” he said, nodding to the intricate branch-lattice enclosure that surrounded the deck. “And the shower. That was tricky.”
“How long did it take you?”
“Three years,” Mel replied, scooping another bite. “But I didn’t do it full time. I had to piece it together.”
“How long have you been in Tamarindo?”
“Coming up on fifteen years, but in the treehouse for three.”
Cassidy took another sip of her drink, imagining the changes he had seen in a town like Tamarindo. Changes that were good for his business, but maybe not so great for actually enjoying his time off—more traffic, crowded lineups, unruly tourists.
Cassidy swallowed another bite and washed it down with another sip from her glass, rocking a bit in her chair.
A pleasant quiet passed between them as they ate in the company of the insects chirping; a bird hooted rhythmically in the distance. It was exactly the kind of evening she had craved. After such a taxing afternoon, to unwind in quiet company felt almost magical. Mel seemed to read her mind; he always seemed to know what she needed. A quick fantasy about how it would end flashed through her mind, and she blushed.
“You said you’d been out of town looking at property,” Cassidy asked. “Was it for surfing?”
Mel was mid-sip, so he nodded, then smacked his lips. “A little scouting trip.”
“Anything you wish to share?”
“My boat’s nothing fancy,” he said. “But you’re welcome anytime.”
Cassidy identified the subtle rub, and figured that she was unlikely the first of Bruce’s guests to fall for such luxury. But had Bruce’s charm been some kind of an act? A sense of doubt about his character resurfaced. What if it was true? What if his big, fancy boat was financed with dirty money, and he had fooled her?
“You think you’ll come back?” Mel said.
Cassidy forced thoughts of Bruce out of her mind. “I’ll always come back to
