Before long I have a feeling I'm not the only one who thinks this. I notice Ian glancing at his watch, and Sid has the little crease between her brows that suggests she's tired or getting a headache too. Shelby is sitting very close to Ryan and chattering away at him. He keeps nodding and smiling, but I honestly don't see how he can hear a word she's saying. Maybe he's just enjoying her proximity.

  Anyway, I'm so relieved when Ian asks Sid if she'd like to go, and she agrees. At first I think Shelby is going to try to talk Ryan into staying longer and catching a cab home, but I guess she feels some sense of responsibility to Sid and me since we'll be rooming with her tonight. So she pays the bill, and we leave.

  “Hey, we could run over there and catch the Cabo bus,” says Shelby once we're out on the main street again. She points to one of the buses across the street, and we head toward it. I think we're all eager to get home, and we know the resort shuttle wont be here for another fifteen minutes.

  “It can be a little crazy,” she yells as we pile on, “but it gives you some of the local color.” Its already crowded, and I find myself wedged between a couple of Mexican guys and an old woman. I'm not even sure where the others in my group are, but it's standing room only here. The bus starts moving, and I realize I need to hang on for dear life! The roads are bumpy, and the ride isn't exactly smooth.

  I'm holding on to a pole and trying not to bump into strangers, hoping I won't go flying, when I notice Shelby just a few feet behind me. Instead of clinging to a bar, it looks to me like she's clinging to Ryan—and having a pretty good time doing it. They're both laughing as the bus jumps and jostles, and I try not to stare or look too horrified. In fact, I make myself turn around and look the other way. But I sense my face getting hot, and now I'm not only feeling green with envy but fairly angry too. I'm not sure I have a right to get angry, but it's how I feel.

  As we bump along, stopping and starting again and again and actually taking more passengers on, I realize I'm going to need a serious attitude adjustment before we get back to the resort. For Pete's sake, Shelby is taking us in, but I feel like I want to scratch her eyes out. Well, not really. Anyway, I do some silent praying, and I really, really try to hand this whole silly thing over to God. Ryan and I never actually had a serious relationship going. We are only friends. And it was wrong for me to suddenly want our friendship to jump to the next level. Furthermore, I am actually risking his friendship by getting all bent out of shape over Shelby. I remind myself that Sid told me he once had it bad for Shelby. So who am I to start playing the thwarted lover?

  I guess I should be thankful it takes so long to reach our resort, about twice what the earlier shuttle took. But it does give me time to get hold of myself and to grow up! Finally, when we're not far from our stop, I notice that the two young Mexican guys next to me are actually sort of flirting with me. Not in a raunchy way, just in a friendly way. So I decide to practice my Spanish, and I learn that they work at a resort hotel in downtown San Lucas. They tell me the name of the restaurant where they work, which means nothing to me, but they suggest I come by to see them and they'll give me a free drink. I tell them where we ate tonight, and they seem impressed. Then they ask what I've seen since I've been in Cabo. I feel embarrassed to admit “not much.” Just as we're coming to our stop, the taller guy tells me I must go see a town called Todos Santos. He says I will love it, that it's where his family lives, and that it's a wonderful place.

  “Gracias,” I say to him, repeating the name to make sure I have it right. He nods eagerly, saying it's about a hundred kilometers from San Lucas. I nod again, trying to remember how kilometers convert to miles. But I thank them both again, and as we're getting off, they remind me to come for my free drink. I laugh and say, “jHasta h vista, mis amigos!” and they call, “Buenas noches, senorita!” And we part as friends. That's not such a bad feeling. It's not until I see Shelby and Ryan getting off the bus behind me that I even remember what a foul mood I'd been in just minutes ago.

  “Looks like you made some friends, Maddie,” says Ian as we gather at the entrance of the resort and begin walking back toward the hotel.

  I laugh. “I guess so. They want me to come to their restaurant for a drink.”

  “Oh, you should!” gushes Shelby, like she wants to get rid of me.

  I really need to lighten up.

  Just the same, I ignore that comment, but then I tell everyone about how these guys recommended I go see the town called Todos Santos.

  “Where is it?” asks Ian with interest.

  “They said about a hundred kilometers up the highway. I was trying to convert that to miles.”

  “That'd be about sixty miles,” says Ian. “But on roads like these, that might take a couple of hours. You never know.”

  “So, its a bit of a trip?” I say, feeling a little disappointed.

  “Would you like to go?” he asks.

  “I sort of would.”

  “Why don't we then?” Ian turns to Sid. “Want to go exploring tomorrow?”

  “Sure,” she says eagerly. “I'm ready to see more of Cabo.”

  “I'm in,” says Ryan.

  “How about you?” Ian looks over to where Shelby is walking on the other side of Ryan.

  “Well, I guess so. I've never been that far out of San Lucas before. Are you sure it's safe?”

  “I can ask at the office,” says Ian.

  Shelby looks at Ryan now, and I swear I can tell what she's thinking—she's thinking that she's not about to let him out of her sight for that long. Then she smiles and says, “Okay, if its safe, then I'm in.”

  “We might have to take two cars,” says Ian. “Ryan and I just have a little Jeep Wrangler with a tiny backseat.”

  “And our car only seats four,” points out Sid.

  “Well, we'll just have to caravan,” says Ian as we get up to the buildings.

  “Sounds like fun!” says Sid.

  I think it sounds fun too. To be perfectly honest, it would sound like more fun if Shelby weren't coming. Hey, what happened to my attitude adjustment?

  h, crud!” exclaims Sid as we're finally getting settled into our new digs, which turn out to be really swanky—like with a capital S swanky. There's even a Jacuzzi tub, complete with hot water 24/7.

  “What's wrong?” I ask her.

  “I forgot my laptop.”

  “Forgot it?” I stare at her. This is a woman who usually guards her laptop with her life. No doubt Ian has done a number on her usual focused self. “Where?”

  “At our other hotel.”

  “Should we call Francesca?” I ask.

  She considers this, then shakes her head. “No, that poor girl has enough troubles. I think I better drive over there and get it.”

  “Drive where and get what?” asks Shelby as she emerges from her bedroom wearing a very pretty but scanty nightie. I wonder if this is how she dresses around her parents or if it's simply for our benefit. But I can't deny she looks good in it. Which bugs me.

  “I'm going to have to go back to Playa del Monaco,” complains Sid.

  Shelby frowns. “Are my accommodations that bad?”

  Sid laughs. “No, your accommodations are fantastic! This feels like a five-star hotel.” She turns to me. “Maddie, have you felt those sheets yet? Im sure they must be six hundred thread count.”

  Shelby smiles. “So why do you have to go back?”

  Sid explains as she puts her sandals back on.

  “You cant go alone,” I point out. “Remember, it's not safe for women to drive alone at night.”

  She just shrugs. “I'll be okay.”

  “No,” I insist as I slip into my flip-flops. “I'm coming.”

  “She's right, you know,” says Shelby. “You should never go out alone at night around here.”

  So we make sure we have a key card and then leave. Of course, this means we'll have to go to the oficina again to get back into our old room. But fortunately, although it's pretty late, Francesca is still there.

  “I cannot give you keys since you are checked out,” she tells us in a quiet voice. “But my shift is just ending, so I can take you and let you in myself. I'm sure the maids haven't cleaned it yet.”

  The man who is replacing her comes in, and they exchange information in rapid Spanish, and though I don't catch everything, I can tell it hasn't been a good day for Playa del Monaco. Big surprise.

  “I am ready now,” she tells us as she pulls on a blue cardigan sweater.

  We lead her back to our old room, where she slips in a key card. Sid goes in, then quickly comes back out with her laptop in hand. “I always hide it under the mattress,” she tells us, “just in case. But we packed so quickly that I completely forgot.”

  “Under the mattress is the first place they look,” says Francesca.

  “Really?”

  “Si.” I wonder if Francesca lapses back into Spanish after work.

  “Where then?” asks Sid as we walk toward the parking lot together.

  “It is difficult to find a perfect spot in a hotel room. But sometimes a lower drawer, just wrapped in an ordinary piece of clothing. They usually go through top drawers, between mattresses, in purses. If a thief has enough time, he will find almost anything.”

  “Do you have much of a problem here?” asks Sid as she stops at our car.

  Francesca shrugs. “Sometimes.”

  “How do you get home?” I ask her.

  “The transport bus.”

  “How about if we give you a ride?” I offer, hoping my aunt won't mind.

  “Yes,” agrees Sid. “We'll drive you home as a thank-you for helping me get into my room.”

  “It is close to here,” says Francesca.

  “Great,” says Sid. “Hop in.”

  As we ride, I switch over to Spanish, telling Francesca I need the practice, and she seems relieved. I ask her last name, which is Tarrago. Then I tell her we're going to see Todos Santos tomorrow and ask if that's a safe thing to do. She says its a wonderful idea and that her grandparents, who are dead now, once lived in Todos Santos. She's only been there once, yet as she recalls, it was very pretty.

  I tell her I wish she could come too, and she says tomorrow and Saturday are her days off, explaining that a more experienced receptionist works her shift on those days, because it can get very busy.

  “Why don't you come with us?” asks Sid. “We're taking two cars, so we have plenty of room.”

  But Francesca doesn't want to intrude. She says it would be too much of an imposition. So I beg her, telling her that I need to practice my Spanish and that I want to get to know her better. By the time we pull up in front of a very shabby-looking little house, she agrees to come.

  “But I will come and meet you at your hotel,” she says, switching back to English, probably for Sid's sake. “You will not have to come get me. I can ride the transport.”

  “Okay,” says Sid. “We plan to leave around ten.”

  “You are certain you want me to join you?” she asks as she gets out of the car.

  “Yes!” I say eagerly.

  “Si,” says Sid. “Very much.”

  Francesca smiles. “Thank you!”

  “See you at ten.”

  We watch as she walks up the dirt path to the tiny house. The walls of the house look so flimsy, almost like heavy cardboard. I'm surprised a stiff breeze doesn't blow the thing down.

  “Didn't she say nine people live there?” I say to Sid.

  “Something like that.” Sid looks behind her as she backs out of the narrow, dirt driveway.

  “Do you think it's her parents and siblings?” I stare at the house, which looks to be smaller than a single-wide mobile home, probably about the size of my parents’ living room.

  “Even if the other kids are small, they must be stacked like sardines.”

  “And they probably share one bathroom.” I try to imagine nine people waiting in line to use the bathroom.

  “You would never guess that Francesca lives in these conditions just by looking at her, would you?” says Sid as we travel back toward Casa del Sol.

  “I know what you mean,” I say. “She always looks neat and clean, so pretty and fresh in her pressed shirts. I wonder how she manages, living in a place like that.”

  “She probably works just as hard at home as at work. Sometimes I think we Americans forget how easy we have it.”

  “I know…we really do have it pretty good.”

  We're reminded again of how good we have it once we're back in Shelby's suite. I'm sure these are the fanciest hotel accommodations I've ever had.

  “Welcome home,” Shelby says as we go into the kitchen. She's holding up a blender pitcher of something frosty. “I made margaritas to celebrate my new roommates.”

  “Oh, none for me,” says Sid. “I think I'm at my limit.”

  “Not even a teeny one after all the work I went to?” Shelby frowns. “I even squeezed the limes myself.”

  Sid seems to consider this. “Okay, just a teeny-weeny one.”

  Shelby smiles. “And a teeny-weeny one for Maddie too?”

  “Sure,” I tell her, thinking I can always pour it out. No need to be inhospitable, especially after she went to so much trouble.

  “How about if we get into our jammies too,” says Sid. “We can pretend we're having a slumber party.”

  “Yes!” says Shelby “That's perfect.”

  So Sid and I quickly change into our comfortable, albeit much less glamorous, sleepwear and rejoin her. Then I pretend to sip on my margarita and listen as mostly Sid and Shelby chat. Sid is great at pulling information from people—probably because she's a journalist. I should be taking notes. She learns that, one, Shelbys parents are very wealthy but don't get along too well; two, Shelby is one of two children, but her older brother is estranged from the family; and, three, Shelby doesn't know what she wants to major in yet.

  I'm guessing by the stack of thick, glossy fashion mags and tidbits of conversation that Shelby wants to major in something to do with fashion and money. Or maybe it's just a Southern California thing. Trying not to draw attention to myself, I slip over to the sink and pour out the remainder of my drink. Then I tell them I can barely keep my eyes open and I'm going to hit the hay.

  “Buenas noches,” I call over my shoulder as I head to the bedroom Sid and I will share. It has two beds, and I have to agree with Sid, the sheets do feel heavenly. Not only that, but the mattress is extremely comfortable. Maybe I wouldn't pick Shelby for a regular roommate, but I cannot complain about her place.

  I wake up earlier than Sid, and after taking a quick shower, I tiptoe into the living area and kitchen, where all is quiet. I suspect Shelby's sleeping in as well. I'm happy to have this luxurious place to myself. I quietly clean up Shelbys mess from last night s margaritas, wiping the sticky spills from the sleek granite countertops and putting the glasses into the dishwasher. I'm surprised to find the blender pitcher is nearly empty, but perhaps those two stayed up late and had more. I sure hope no one has a hangover this morning. After the kitchen is back in order, I decide to make coffee.

  As I stand here watching it drip, it occurs to me that this is a very nice kitchen, especially for a hotel, where I doubt it gets much serious use. I feel sort of bad to think it's actually a lot better than the kitchen my mom has, and yet she really uses it every day.

  I pour myself a cup of coffee, then straighten up the pretty living area too, stacking magazines neatly, fluffing pillows, and setting Shelbys expensive-looking aqua blue sandals by her door. The heels are so high I wonder how she manages to walk in them. Maybe that's why she had so much trouble standing in the bus last night. No wonder she was holding on to Ryan so tightly. Or not.

  As I go over to open the drapes, I try to dismiss those troubling thoughts. This is easily done when I see the beautiful view. I open the door and step out onto the veranda, taking in a deep breath of fresh air. The Sea of Cortez seems to be greeting me in all its morning glory today. The varying jewel-tone shades of brilliant blue glistening in the sun are stunning. I stand for a long moment, just sipping my coffee and drinking this all in until I can no longer decline the invitation. I slip on my flip-flops, quietly step outside, and walk down toward the beach.

  The morning air is fresh and clear. Already it's starting to get warm, but not uncomfortable. I compare this climate to the tropics in Papua New Guinea where the heat seemed to soak right into your skin. This is drier and, as a result, feels less intrusive, if that makes any sense. I think I like it better. It'seems cleaner. If I ever choose to live in a warm place, which I probably never will, I think I'd prefer Mexico to anywhere else I've been. Even Hawaii.

  The pools and beach are quiet and serene. All the decks look scrubbed clean, and the chaise lounges are lined up perfectly, their white cotton pads looking clean and bright in the sun. Everything is in its place—ready for another busy day. It's obvious this resort is well maintained, and once again I wish Francesca could find a job here. I hate that she seems stuck in that horrible Playa del Monaco.

  Instead of obsessing over this, I decide to pray for her as I walk on the beach. Then I pray for our day ahead. I ask God to give us safe travels and an enjoyable time. I ask him to help me with my attitude toward Shelby and Ryan. And I remind myself, again, that I really have no claim to Ryan. Other than friendship, that is. If I'm smart, I'll preserve that.

  I don't walk too far. Although it feels perfectly safe, I'm aware I'm alone, and I know I shouldn't push things.

  It's about nine fifteen by the time I venture back to our room, and it seems that at least Sid is up since her bed is empty and I hear the shower going.

  “Coffee,” she says happily when she comes out in her robe. “Bless you!

  “Are you feeling okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I feel great. Why?”

  I shrug. “Nothing.” I don't want to mention the empty blender pitcher.