A Beach House to Die For

by K C Ames

  Ramón had been preparing for her arrival by airing it out. The house smelled of lemon from the cleaning supplies, courtesy of Carmen, and the smell of salt in the air was courtesy of the Pacific.

  The front windows of the house offered a breathtaking view of the water, which was just a few minutes away on foot. The other windows looked out towards lush greenery of the jungle behind the property.

  The beauty was overwhelming.

  “It looked nice in the photographs you sent me, but…this is just stunning,” Dana said, alternating looking out towards the beach and the forest.

  They went upstairs, and Courtney slid the porch screen door to the side and stepped onto an ample deck overlooking the beach and the property below.

  “Oh, my, Dana, come on out here, this is amazing!” she said.

  The deck had a six-piece wicker patio set consisting of a middle and side sofa, two chairs, an ottoman, and a table.

  “I’ll just live out here,” Dana said.

  “Forget what I said before about moving down here. Now I’m jealous,” Courtney said.

  Benny joined them on the patio. He put his hands on the railing and he took in the view.

  “That’s Mariposa Beach down there with the safe and tranquil waters to swim in. It’s a lovely community. You saw Ark Row on the drive over with its shops, and there are a few decent places to eat in town, like Soda Linda,” Benny said, waving his arms from above.

  “How far away is it to walk to town from here?” Courtney asked.

  “Not even five minutes. You have direct access to a footpath from the side of the property that takes you down to the town and the beach. I’ll show you later,” he said.

  He turned to his right and pointed out towards the jungle and said, “Over there, you have the Pancha Sabhai Institute, an ashram and retreat for yogis that is world famous; off to the right is a lovely bed-and-breakfast; and a couple miles from there is the Tranquil Bay Resort, that’s not as quaint,” Benny said, sounding ominous. “It’s a luxurious five-star hotel on par with the Ritz or the Four Seasons,” Benny said.

  “That’s a bold statement, my friend,” Courtney said.

  “Oh, they went all out on it. Rooms start at five hundred dollars a night. The owner of the resort loves to tell everyone that he ‘spared no expense,’ like the old man from Jurassic Park,” Benny explained.

  “Wasn’t that movie filmed in Costa Rica?” Dana asked innocently.

  Benny turned to look at Dana and Courtney and sighed. He said, “It was supposed to take place in Costa Rica, but it was not filmed here. What you saw on the movie screen was actually Hawaii, not Costa Rica, and don’t get me started on how a brilliant filmmaker like Steven Spielberg shot that scene with Newman from Seinfeld supposedly in San José, sitting at a rinky-dink taco stand on the beach with chickens running around in the background…In. San. José,” Benny said, halting after each word to make his point. “Can you believe that? Maybe out here, sure, but in the city? The chickens would be hit by a bus or they would die from carbon monoxide poisoning from all the traffic, and the only way to see the ocean from San José is to get in your car and drive for a few hours.”

  “Okay, we won’t get you started,” Dana said, with a thin smile on her lips.

  “Sorry. It is a great movie, even with such glaring discrepancies,” Benny said, clearing his throat, looking embarrassed about his rant.

  “Sore subject,” Courtney said with a smile.

  “What else is out there?” Dana asked, changing the subject.

  “Between the town, your house, and resort, there are a couple smaller, mom-and-pop type hotels and restaurants, much to the annoyance of Gustavo Barca, the Tranquil Bay owner, who would love nothing more than to buy all the land from his resort down to the beach—including yours, Dana,” Benny said.

  “Is that the jerk that made me an offer to buy this place?”

  “That’s Gustavo Barca, he’s from Venezuela originally. He came from a well-off family and made a fortune in construction. Supposedly, he ran afoul of president Hugo Chavez himself, so he went on a self-imposed exile in Miami then Panama before settling in Costa Rica ten years ago, where he then went on a real estate and business buying spree and began to build his dream project, Tranquil Bay Resort,” Benny said.

  “Impressive,” Courtney said.

  “Ruthless,” Benny countered. “I thought the worldwide real estate meltdown would wipe him out, but like most cockroaches, he’ll survive through anything, even a nuke,” he added.

  “The man behind Tranquil Bay Resort sounds anything but tranquil,” Dana said.

  Benny laughed. “I never thought of that, but yes, very true, and unfortunately he still wants your land, bad, but we’ll talk about that tomorrow or the next day. Let's not spoil your home christening with business matters just yet.”

  Ramón and Carmen joined the rest of the group in finishing up the tour of the house.

  Dana marveled that even the kitchen had a window with a stunning view of the mountain.

  There was a kitchen island with three stools that, to Dana, seemed functional, with its adjustable shelves, a knife block, a silverware tray, an organizer, towel bars, and spice racks. She remembered that Uncle Blake had been quite the cook.

  To the right of the kitchen was the dining room.

  A few steps from the kitchen was a comfy-looking living area furnished with a large couch, chairs, and windows that overlooked the ocean, which appeared to be held in the air from the treetops of the jungle.

  Dana noticed a corridor leading towards an open archway.

  “That was your uncle’s nook,” Benny said, having noticed Dana looking in that direction.

  Dana walked towards it, feeling like she was intruding into her dead uncle’s nook, but she was curious about what was back there—a man cave, a room full of surfboards? She walked down a narrow corridor and through the archway which led into a small room that stopped her cold.

  “Oh, wow,” Dana said. Courtney stuck her head inside to take a look.

  “I knew Uncle Blake was a voracious reader, but wow,” Dana said, stepping into a beautiful custom-built reading room.

  It only measured around six hundred square feet, but bookshelves from the floor to the ceiling surrounded the entire room. Dana quickly counted nine rows of shelving. Dark woods. Beautifully crafted. Dana touched the edge of the shelf.

  “Your uncle had that custom-made from exotic Costa Rican woods like cocobolo,” Benny said.

  The shelves were jam-packed with books—thousands of books, mostly paperbacks but also hardcovers.

  There was a wooden ladder that flanked the entire length of the shelf. It hooked from a metal bar attached to the ceiling which allowed it to move sideways.

  In the middle of the reading room sat a weatherworn and very comfortable-looking leather lounge chair and an ottoman. There was a small wooden desk flush against the wall.

  “Perfect for writing,” Dana said, mostly to herself.

  Dana looked at the books and she smiled, remembering how much her uncle liked adventure, detective, and western novels as she saw books by Rex Stout, Clive Cussler, Zane Grey, Sue Grafton, Dashiell Hammett, Agatha Christie, John Sanford, and Dennis Lehane.

  “Looks like a library,” Courtney said, staring all around.

  They eventually made their way upstairs to the master bedroom, which was roomy but not too ostentatious. Dana liked it.

  It had a comfy-looking king-size bed that made her a little sad, thinking it was too much bed for a single girl. But her mind quickly glossed over that as she realized she had direct access to that gorgeous second-story patio from her master bedroom. The bathroom was nice, with a shower and bathtub and two sinks.

  Uncle Blake didn’t design this house with a single person in mind, Dana thought.

  There was a guest room down the hall from the master bedroom, nicely furnished with a double bed, a nightstand, and a small sofa. The guest room had its own bathroom.

 
“Nice touch,” Courtney said, eyeing what would be her own bathroom during her stay.

  Eventually, they made their way back down to the bottom floor and down a few steps to the mudroom that paralleled the carport outside.

  It was the utilitarian space of the home that housed the laundry room, storage area, and the maid’s room with its own full bathroom. Not sure what I’ll do with that room, Dana thought, looking at the space.

  A back door led out to a clothesline area, and a gate from there led outside to the garden area.

  There was another door at the bottom of the steps—that was the door Dana had seen when she first arrived. It led to the open carport outside.

  After the tour, Dana and Courtney collapsed on the sofa on the patio. They had been touring the place and chatting for a couple hours. Benny realized he hadn’t offered to take them grocery shopping, so he invited them to dinner in town, but they were too tired.

  “I didn’t think Costa Rica was as far as it is,” Courtney said.

  “We’re about three thousand miles from San Francisco, girl,” Dana replied.

  “No wonder I’m dead tired.”

  It was seven p.m., and it was pitch-dark outside.

  Dana and Courtney agreed to have Benny pick them up at nine a.m. for breakfast in town, and he would show them around more.

  “I can’t thank you enough, Benny,” Dana said.

  “No worries, my pleasure. And we need to talk business before I head back to San José in three days.”

  “Sure, and thank you.”

  “You’re a real sweetheart, Benny, thank you for carting us around and putting up with our stuff,” Courtney said, grinning.

  Benny smiled and again said, “No problem.”

  “All right, I’ll see you in the morning,” he said as he got up from the chair.

  Dana began to get up, but he stopped her.

  “Get your rest, enjoy your first night at your new home. I know my way out.”

  “Señor,” they heard from outside. All three of them looked over the balcony down below, and there was Ramón with a covered bowl in one hand and pitcher in the other.

  Benny smiled. “I figured they weren’t about to let you two go to bed without having something to eat.”

  Dana wanted to make sure they weren’t imposing on Ramón’s family’s dinner.

  “No, Señora, my wife makes gallo pinto for the whole week, so there is plenty of it,” Ramón said, proffering the bowl and pitcher to her.

  She covered the bowl with a plastic wrap that was fogged up from the hot food inside. On top of the plastic wrap was something warm wrapped in aluminum foil.

  Dana took the items to the kitchen. She removed the plastic wrap, and the steam wafted in the air, smelling delicious. The bowl contained a hefty serving of gallo pinto. Benny explained that was the traditional dish of Costa Rica.

  It was white rice and black beans, but that didn’t really give the delicious dish its proper due. The juices from the beans mixed in perfectly with the rice.

  “It’s a simple recipe. You cook the rice and beans and you mix them along with some onions, cilantro, sweet pepper, salt, some water, and then you mix it all together in a pot with vegetable oil to fry it all together until it becomes gallo pinto,” Benny explained to the women.

  "It’s a staple dish that ticos eat as a meal and as a side for breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

  The aluminum foil contained six corn tortillas, and in the pitcher was a mango juice made from the fruits picked from the mango trees right on the property.

  Benny turned down their offer to join them.

  “I’ll get something to eat at home. I’ll let you enjoy your gallo pinto,” he said with a smile.

  “Ga-low pin-toe?” Courtney asked, butchering its pronunciation.

  Dana and Benny both laughed. “Ga-yo and pinto, like the exploding car,” Dana said.

  “The direct translation is spotted rooster in English,” Benny explained.

  “Hmm, well, it looks delicious. I’m digging in,” Courtney said, grabbing a spoon.

  After Benny left, Dana and Courtney polished off the gallo pinto and tortillas and most of the mango juice as they sat on the porch.

  “I didn’t think I was that hungry, since it wasn’t that long since we ate at Soda Linda,” Dana said.

  “Must be the tropical heat, but I was famished.”

  They laughed. Then they just sat in silence for a moment, taking it all in.

  “It’s so quiet,” Dana said after a while.

  “Sounds like the rainforest ambiance noise I ask Alexa to play for me at home,” Courtney said.

  “Yup. Here you get the real deal.”

  The two friends sat on the porch for over an hour, laughing about their trip so far and how different the Guanacaste Jungle was from the concrete jungle of San Francisco.

  Dana commented on how nice and helpful Benny had been and how he was going well above his lawyer duties.

  “And he’s cute to boot,” Courtney said with a sly grin on her face.

  “That’s the last thing on my mind, Court.”

  "New start, remember?" Courtney replied. She laughed then yawned. She got up and stretched and yawned again. "I’ve hit the wall. I’m going to bed."

  "Oh, one thing," Dana said as Courtney was heading towards her room. "Benny and Ramón warned me that if you hear a loud howling sound or rattling on the roof, not to worry, it’s probably just the howler monkeys," Dana said with a grin.

  “You’re kidding?” Courtney asked, her eyes wide like saucers looking up at the ceiling.

  “Night, night,” Dana chuckled.

  Six

  That there were monkeys outside was cute until they started howling like drunks stumbling out of a bar at closing.

  Dana was too tired to worry about it, and she fell fast asleep until another howler monkey woke her up at six a.m. She sat straight up in bed and it took a moment to get her bearings, then she remembered, Oh, yeah, a new bed, a new room, a new house, a new town, a new country, and a loud monkey hanging around outside.

  She lay back down, and that’s when she realized there was someone in bed with her. Dana did a double take then realized it was Courtney.

  It took another moment for her brain to play catch-up with her eyes, then she remembered that Courtney had crawled into her bed in the middle of the night like a child waking up from a nightmare and seeking comfort from her parents.

  For Courtney, the nightmare was the loud growls from the howler monkeys, one of the loudest mammals in the world, who love to bark and grunt at night and into the early morning.

  “Those monkeys are freaking me out, so sorry, but scoot over,” Courtney had said as she got into Dana’s bed at around two in the morning.

  Dana was too tired to argue, and she didn’t mind. The bed was big enough, and she still slept way over on the right side like she had during her eight-year marriage. It was like an amputee dealing with a phantom limb, and even though she had been estranged from her now ex-husband for over a year before they began the official paperwork to divorce, she still slept on her side of the bed. She could sprawl out sideways and in the shape of a cross if she wanted. But nope, she still tucked on over to her side of the bed and stayed there.

  Dana was debating about just getting up, since it seemed to be a beautiful morning outside, when another loud howl woke up Courtney, who sprung out of bed like it was on fire.

  Dana watched her, laughing as she stood there for a moment.

  “I never thought I could come to hate a monkey, but good gravy, I felt like Olivia de Havilland in the Snake Pit insane asylum,” Courtney said, yawning.

  As Dana was getting ready for the day, she heard the buzzer from the front gate go off.

  She assumed it was Benny, arriving earlier than planned for breakfast, so she opened the gate without using the intercom.

  She stepped out onto her patio and saw a small gray SUV driving up the gravel driveway. Off in the distance, she saw Ra
món hacking at vegetation with a machete. Already hard at work, Dana thought as she turned her attention back at the approaching vehicle that was not Benny’s Land Cruiser, the only vehicle in town she would recognize.

  A sporty Audi Q2 pulled up to the front of the house and parked. A blonde woman decked out in Lululemon gear and wearing Warby sunglasses got out of the car and looked up to the porch and waved at Dana.

  Dana waved back, not having a clue who this person was. Maybe she’s lost and thinks this is the yoga resort up the road, Dana thought as the woman shouted up, “You must be Dana Kirkpatrick.”

  “I’m sorry, who are you?”

  “I’m Felicia Banks with Sunshine Realty and Property Management. We exchanged a couple emails last month.”

  Oh, great, Dana thought, I just buzzed in a salesperson onto the property.

  “I’ll be right down,” Dana said.

  It took a few minutes for her to throw on her Golden State Warriors blue and gold T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants and make her way down from her bedroom to the front door.

  Felicia Banks was looking at the property like real estate agents do. Dana noticed she was a petite blonde in her late twenties, an American, too.

  “Hello there,” Dana said, walking down the front steps to greet her.

  “So nice to meet you finally,” Banks said, sales smile on, hand out for what Dana was sure would be one of those firm, alpha-type handshakes.

  Dana shook Bank's hand and yes, there it was, alpha, firm, three pumps, and a tap on her arm with her free hand, direct eye contact during the handshake. Big, toothy smile. Dana felt awkward.

  “So what’s up?” she asked Felicia.

  “Sorry, I would have called, but I don’t have your phone number. But I have a yoga class nearby, so I thought I would drop by to introduce myself,” she said.

  From her accent, Dana pegged the pretty realtor to be from New England.

  “You’re American?” Dana asked.

  She nodded her head. “From Boston, originally.”

  Dana smiled, Nailed it.

  “I moved out to Costa Rica five years ago, love it down here.”

  They chitchatted for a minute, but for Dana, Felicia was way too salesy. She was also way too perky so early in the morning. And then it dawned on Dana that she was fresh to show up that early uninvited.