Island Recess, Chapter 1. Breathing heavily from her recent exertion, Helena stood at the top of a steep incline, one foot on the pedal of her mountain-bike, the other steadying her on the rough terrain. A few errant curls strayed from beneath her bike-helmet and fluttered a cross her forehead with the warm breeze. Far below, the waters of the Caribbean unfurled in smooth waves and spilled along a white stretch of sand. Shielding her eyes from the glare of the noon sun, she scanned the town-site below for a sign of the apartment she had leased for t he summer. Located near the local ball field, the tiny building was sadly in need of repair. Even from this distance, the moss-covered roof looked in imminent danger of collapse. Helena smiled as she recalled her first encounter with her summer home. Shrouded in a damp linen suit that had proven not to be wrinkle-free she had stood in the middle of the bachelor apartment and cried. This was not the seaside villa she had envisioned as she and her prospective landlord had tapped out queries and responses via e-mail. She tried in vain to recall the somewhat blurred electronic image of a pastel condominium complex posted beside the unitµs description. Helena had book-marked the site on her computer, visiting and re-visiting the advertisement numerous times before finally leaving her e -mail address. Charming Mediterranean style s ea -side villa, the clai m had read. Even though it was after dark when her taxi driver took her from the landing dock at Cruz Bay through a bewildering array of twists and turns to her new home, she could see that it was a long way from an all-inclusive paradise. A sagging screen door slumped from its hinges, causing Helena to visualize a nightly invasion of rodent-sized arachnids. Helena had h eard on the radio just that morning that t he average parson eats five spiders in their sleep over a lifetime. She had hoped that the average inadvertent arachnid-consumption was not any higher in the Virgin Islands than in S eattle. Thick green a loe plant s twined along the walkway, their branching fingers catching at her bare ankles. Dragging behind her an enormous wheeled suitcase, Helena had sworn under her breath as she att empted to negotiate the narrow concrete steps. Her elderly landlord ha d shuffled to greet her with surprising speed in response to her banging on the screen door. Although her first instinct had been to articulate her frustration with a salty string of expletives, one look at the encouraging smile of her e- mail correspondent and she swallowed the words with a sigh. Beneath thick prescription lenses, his eyes swam like trapped brown fish. With myopia of that extent, he likely did not even realize the dilapidated condition of the building he had inherited from an elderly aunt. She had extended her hand and forced a smile her aching face c ould ill afford. ³I¶m Helena Travis,´ she said, ³I¶ve come about the apartment.´ ³Ben Holmes,´ he had uttered in a boom ing voice, extending a wrinkled hand. ³Of course, of course; follow me.´ Picking up one of her bags, he had gauged its weight, then dropped it and motioned to the taxi driver to assist. Slowly, he had ascended a stained s et of linoleum stairs, and then paused, rooting about in his pockets for a key. When he turned to face her, he swung open the door on her new apartment. ³Welcome home,´ he had uttered with dramatic flair. She had waited until she had handed Ben an envelope with the firs t month¶s rent and heard the door creak to a close behind him. Then, she had burst into tears. Sitting on the edge of a dusty suitcase she had wept onto the sleeves of a cream linen jacket, heedless of the smears of caramel make-up and globs of mascara that now decorated the sleeves. When the last of her ragged sobs had die d, she forced herself to look around. The apartment was of the ³efficiency´ variety, with a hot-plate and fridge and an old Murphy bed that pulled down from the wall. She had stood and walked the length of the room, fingering the bubbling paint and wincing at t he bare bulb swinging from the ceiling. The dim light illuminated a depressingly weathered linoleum floor and a ncient slipcovers. With a sigh, she pushed aside a set of faded print curtains, stepped out onto the balcony, and gasped. The air on her face was cool and sweet, smelling of tropical flowers and the tang of salt water. Although the lights of