An hour later, she is standing in front of a small tiki hut, room key in hand. The plaque on the door reads, "Castaway Suite." 'This is it,' she thinks, inserting the key into the lock and swinging the door open. She sets her suitcase down and looks around at what would be her home for the next 10 days. Filled with tacky tiki-themed furniture, the room doesn't look like it has been updated since the mid-seventies. But it feels welcoming anyway. A fire burns brightly in the fireplace and the morning light streams happily into the room through the open windows.      Melinda kicks off her shoes and jumps onto the bed and on her back, looking up at the bamboo ceiling. Even though it feels like her life is spinning out of control, the hotel room gives her the illusion of being grounded. She looks around again and slowly breaks into a happy smile.      "I can get through this," she says aloud. "And this is just the right place to try and put my life in order."      She snaps open her suitcase and rifles through her clothes until she finds her bathing suit. 'Perfect,' she thinks.      She grabs a towel from a shelf in the bathroom and makes her way to the pool.      Once there, she puts her towel on a lone beach chair and dives into the inviting water. She adjusts to the shock of the cold temperature easily and swims over to the ladder. She gets out and reclines in the chair, letting the sun evaporate the beads of water left on her skin. Closing her eyes, she sighs contentedly, happy for the first time in a few days. Her problems and worries seem so far away and she relishes the carefree feeling, a small smile on her lips.      "May I get you a drink, miss?" she hears a pleasant male voice ask. She looks up and sees one of the resort staff, a handsome young man no older than she.      "I would love a drink," she says, smiling. "How about a pina colada?"      "I can do that!" he says cheerfully.      She watches him walk to the bar across the pool. 'He reminds me of Greg,' she thinks. For the first time since she left, she feels a small pang of sadness. 'I have to explain to him…' she thinks wildly. And then, 'But I can't think of this now. Not yet. I need to clear my mind first.'      Just in time, the waiter returns with her drink. "Just sign here," he says, pointing to a small receipt, "and we'll charge it to your room."      "Thank you," she says, signing her name and then taking a sip of her drink.      She leans back again, her drink in hand. 'I won't think about my problems today,' she thinks to herself determinedly. 'There's always tomorrow for that.'      Moments later, she drifts off to sleep, the sun warm against her skin. For once, her dreams are happy. Her problems with Wayne and Greg are a distant memory.