The house was big. Four bedrooms, a wraparound deck, a view of the water between two other houses.
It was also an absolute disaster.
Sticky cups covered the coffee tables. Sand was tracked across every inch of the floor. Wet towels hung over the backs of the dining chairs. Dirty dishes were piled in the sink so high that a frying pan was balanced on top of a cereal bowl. The trash can in the kitchen was overflowing. The bathroom smelled like it hadn’t been cleaned in a week.
George, Rodrigo’s older brother, came out of the living room to meet us. He was wearing swim trunks, no shirt, and holding an open beer at one-thirty in the afternoon.
“Welcome to paradise!” he boomed. “We’re family here. No need for formalities.”
Then Lauren came out behind him.
She was carrying a spiral notebook. I honestly thought she was going to show me restaurant recommendations. Maybe a list of the best beaches.
I was dead wrong.
She’d written out a chore schedule.
Breakfast at 8:00 AM.
Deep clean at 10:00 AM.
Lunch for six at 2:30 PM.
Pack the beach coolers.
Wash the towels.
Dust the bedrooms.
Scrub the bathrooms.
Dinner at 6:00 PM.
“I’ve been doing everything myself for a week,” Lauren said, like this was the most reasonable thing in the world. “It’s my turn to relax.”
I stared at the notebook. Then at her.
“What about Rodrigo?”
She laughed out loud. “Rodrigo? He came down here to go deep-sea fishing with George.”
My husband stepped up beside me and threw an arm around my shoulders.
“Don’t overthink it, babe. You’re amazing at organizing a house.”
“I’m on vacation too,” I said. My voice was dangerously flat.
“Yeah, but we’re not paying for a hotel,” he said. Like that settled everything.
Then it got worse.
Rodrigo nodded at my purse.
“And since we’re saving so much on the room, I figured we could use some of your savings for that carbon-fiber fishing rod I showed you. The Shimano. It’s top of the line.”
I looked at him for several long seconds.
“The money I saved by working overtime for ten months?”
“Well, yeah. It’s trip money.”
“My trip money.”
“Oh, Daniela, don’t start.”
George slapped his hand on the kitchen counter. “Let’s hit the water! Captain’s waiting at the marina!”
Lauren grabbed a big floppy sun hat off a hook. “We’ll be back around six. Make something good for dinner. George wants steak. The kids want pasta.”
“What kids?”
“My nephews. They’re coming in this afternoon with my sister. They’re eating here.”
That was a lot more people than anybody had mentioned.
Lauren pushed the notebook into my hands. Like she was handing over the keys to a business.
“Oh, and the fridge is basically empty. Just buy whatever you need.”
Sophia Rivers is an experienced News Content Editor with a sharp eye for detail and a passion for delivering accurate and engaging news stories. At TheArchivists, she specializes in curating, editing, and presenting news content that informs and resonates with a global audience.
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