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place. She glanced at Kirin walking quietly beside her, amused by the fact that she’d asked no questions.
    When her eye doctor had told her that her other senses of hearing, t ouching, and tasting would sharpen, she had scoffed at the idea. Now af ter eight months, she admitted he was right. Her sense of touch had intensified. Since her favorite art form was sculpting, the increased aware ness with her hands was an added bonus.
    “Watch that step,” Kirin said.
    “Thanks.”
    Textiles and woodworking lured her as well. A free-form teak goddess was her last project before she left on vacation. It had taken her weeks to find the form she needed within that block of wood with chisels, mallets, and rasps. When she ran her hands along the fluid lines, she felt the warmth emanating from inside. The final sanding took days, and once the Tung oil was applied, the surface was satiny smooth and flawless. The sensuality of woodworking was the remedy she longed for, like a calling almost.
 
    AS THEY WALKED by the large pool toward the bar area, she recog nized a few familiar faces from her previous visits. People called to her and greeted her warmly. She noticed that Kirin was hanging back and did a one-eighty. She took Kirin’s arm, pulled her closer, and introduced her to some of her Belizean comrades.
    A waiter came up to her. “It is so good to see you again, mum.”
    Silke hugged him. “Ricardo, I’m always happy as soon as you appear.”
    “Miss Silke, just as beautiful as ever. Would you ladies like the rum punch?” His singsong cadence seemed to follow the music.
    “Of course I would. Ricardo, this is my guest, Kirin Foster.” Silke put her hand on his arm, and Ricardo regarded Kirin. “Would you like one or something else?” Silke smoothed her skirt.
    “Rum punch sounds perfect,” Kirin said.
    Like a new member of the tribe, she followed them to a small table beside the pool.
    “This place is postcard perfect. It looks like a set for a movie with thatched cottages, palm trees, and great music,” Kirin said. “Especially after our last accommodations.”
    Silke took note of the ocean breeze, the salt against her skin. “Actu ally, they did use the resort for a short-lived reality show several years ago. Maybe you saw it?” She turned more fully to see Kirin. “Diane showed me clips of the old TV show Temptation Island just before they bought the place.
    “After the filming, the owners lost interest and let the place deteriorate. They sold it at a loss so Diane and her husband bought it for a good price.” She noticed Kirin idly swinging her crossed leg with a contented smile on her face. She waved at another friend passing by. “The next few years they struggled to keep it going while they invested every nickel into upgrading the electricity and water. After that, business slowly began to grow. Because they lived on site, alongside the workers, word spread that steady jobs were available. Happy, loyal employees always bring visitors back. Every time.”
    The drinks arrived complete with little umbrellas.
    “Cheers.” Kirin held up her glass. “To a calmer rest of the vacation.”
    “I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.” Silke clinked glasses . I’d be more worried about boredom for such a Type A.
    The sun dipped below the horizon, leaving a rosy pink glow on the fluffy white clouds over the reef. The evening breeze picked up, driving away the small insects and leaving a salty fresh scent in its wake.
    Silke watched Kirin tip her head back and close her eyes as she slowly unwound a little. Perhaps the drink helped to assail her constant state of impatience. Silke got tired just being around that tension. Some newcom ers took several days to acclimate to the slower way of life. Kirin’s apparent deceleration was a good thing.
    She was surprised she felt more comfortable sitting with a stranger than she had with her partner of seven years. She closed her eyes and remembered their first trip