At her coffee shop, one of her favorite things to do was talk with the customers. Anyone could see that the resort staff felt the same way. Another hotel guest struck up a conversation about sailing lessons, which Shelley immediately signed up for. By midafternoon she was having fantasies about what it would be like to live on the warm, friendly island full-time. After breakfast she set out on foot to explore the nearby town, silently thanking Quinn for the Motrin. She followed a group of window-shopping tourists along pristine sidewalks lined with manicured flowerbeds to the town center. The town center had a turnabout with a courtyard in the center, complete with iron benches, tall trees, and a dark, cedar-sided tourist information center. Already enthralled by the island, Shelley went inside the information center to make sure she didn’t miss anything Rockwell Island had to offer. A gray-haired woman smiled up at her from behind the information desk, where she sat with a phone pressed to her ear.
