by Debby Mayne
Warren sighed and then did it for me. “There. Now, please don’t open it again. That’s the fourth time I’ve closed it for you and it’s getting harder every time.”
“Oh, I have to open it again on the morning we leave. I’ll have to put in my medications and my toothbrush and all that.”
Warren slapped himself on the forehead once more and then reached over to grab his suitcase—his medium-sized, hardly full suitcase—and lifted it aright. “I’ll put those things in my bag.”
“Great idea. I’m glad you’ve got extra space because I’m sure I’ll find some things to buy in Cozumel. And Cayman. And Jamaica.”
“Just remember you’ll have to pay customs fees if you buy too much.” He gave me a knowing look.
“I know, I know.” I sat on the edge of the bed, deep in thought. Sasha jumped up next to me and I scratched her behind the ears. “You gonna miss me, girl?”
Her tail wagged in response.
Copper sat at my feet and whimpered. I looked down at him and my eyes filled with tears. How could I leave my babies behind?
“Do you think we could sneak these guys on-board?” I managed to ask above the lump in my throat. “Hmm? Two little stowaways? They would be a lot of fun.”
“Are you kidding me?” Take these two mongrels on international waters?” Warren laughed. “If I know them, they’d jump overboard.”
Heavens, no. “Not Copper,” I argued. “He’s scared of water. You saw what happened last time I bathed him.”
“You bathed him?” Warren laughed. “That’s priceless.”
“Well, I helped. I brought you the towel. Point is, he’s a scaredy-cat when it comes to water, so I doubt seriously he’ll jump overboard.”
“He’s terrified of his own shadow,” Warren reminded me. “No thank you. They’ll do fine with Candy and we’ll have a stress free time knowing they’re in good hands.”
“I guess.”
“Besides, you’ll be too busy eating and going on excursions to worry about the dogs. . . or anything else.”
“Anything else?” I glanced his way and tried to figure out his meaning.
Warren’s right eyebrow arched, quite the trick. “You. Know.”
“I have no idea what you mean.” I batted my eyelashes and feigned innocence.
“No crime solving on-board this ship, Annie Peterson.” Warren crossed his arms at his chest. Was that a glare? How dare he!
“Can I help it if trouble seems to follow me everywhere I go?” I lifted my arms in mock despair. “I’m a crime magnet.”
“You’re a magnet, all right.” He rose and slipped his arms around me. “And for the next week the only thing I want you gravitating to is me.” He gave me a kiss that convinced me of that fact. I’d happily trade in my crime-fighting skills for another smooch like that. Maybe.
A couple of hours later, after dropping off the pups at Candy’s place and grabbing a bite to eat at the local diner, Warren and I headed back home for what I hoped would be a good night’s sleep. Instead, I tossed and turned all night.
Around three a.m. Warren grunted and then rolled over to face me. “Annie, with this much rocking and rolling, who needs a cruise ship?”
A sigh followed on my end. I really hadn’t meant to disturb him. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m just so anxious. I haven’t been on a plane in years, and what if you’re right about getting seasick on the ship? I’ve only got a handful of those patches. Maybe we should stop at the drugstore on our way out and buy some Dramamine? And what if something goes wrong with Candy’s pregnancy while we’re gone? I mean, she could go into labor. You know? Then what?”
Warren groaned. “She’s only seven months pregnant. I serious doubt she’ll go into labor.”
“What about Brandi? She’s still in the first trimester of her pregnancy? She might need my help taking care of Maddy if she gets sick.”
“She has a husband. He can help.”
“Maybe Devin and Molly could help with Maddy if Brandi gets sick.”
“Devin and Molly are still honeymooners. They need to be left alone.” He yanked his pillow out from under him and then placed it over his face.
“True.” I sucked in a couple of deep breaths. “What if Copper gets another pancreatitis attack?” I raised my voice in case Warren couldn’t hear me from under the pillow. “He seems to go through that so much. I should’ve gone by the vet’s office for more meds, just in case. And you know how Sasha is when we go away. She gets that separation anxiety thing. Candy won’t know what to do. Ugh. This is impossible. What was I thinking?”
My husband rolled over, still clutching the pillow over his head. “Annie, take a sleeping pill.” His muffled voice sounded from underneath. “I need some rest.”
“It’s too late for that,” I argued. “It’s three in the morning.”
“Ten after three, and I’m going to be miserable in the morning.” Warren tossed the pillow aside, got out of bed, walked into the bathroom and came back with a sleeping pill in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “Here. Take this so I can get some sleep.”
“Okay, okay.” I swallowed down the pill and then tossed and turned a few more minutes before drifting off. Crazy dreams followed. In one of them, Sheila and I were on a desert island, chasing a woman dressed as a bride. Nuts.
Warren woke me up at six-thirty, but I could barely remember my own name, what with the sleeping pill tugging my eyelids downward. I somehow managed to take a quick shower and dress, then climbed into the passenger seat of our SUV and leaned my throbbing head back against the headrest as Warren drove to Sheila and Orin’s house. My BFF came bounding out of her front door just as we pulled into the driveway. As always, her wardrobe was a colorful ensemble that included bright teals and hot pinks. She definitely looked ready for a vacation in the tropics. If the clothing didn’t convince me, the sun visor and sunglasses did.
Orin lugged two giant suitcases behind him and before long he and Warren had hefted them into the back of our vehicle. As Sheila climbed into the backseat, she talked a mile a minute about the upcoming cruise but all I heard was “Waa-waa-waa.” The sleeping pill still threatened to lull me into a catatonic state.
“Cat got your tongue, Annie?” Sheila gave me a funny look.
“Uh-uh,” I managed.
“She’s drugged.” Warren climbed into the driver’s seat and reached for the key.
“Ooo.” Sheila giggled. “Well, this oughta be a fun flight.”
Frankly, I couldn’t remember if it was a fun flight or not. I also couldn’t remember if it was cold or hot on the plane. The minute we got on the 747, I leaned my head back against the seat, draped my sweater over my face and passed out cold. By the time I awoke, we were starting our descent into Houston. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what we were doing in the air. It took a few minutes of ‘coming to’ for reality to settle in. Then, finally, excitement hit. We were going on a cruise! Yippee!
Minutes later, just as the lingering effects of the sleeping pill wore off, we were off of the plane and headed to the rental car area.
At this point, I really came alive. Suddenly, I could hardly wait to get to Galveston and to spend a few hours strolling on the beach with my honey. With the help of the GPS on my phone, Warren drove us from the airport in Houston to our hotel on the seawall. I’d heard about the Galvez hotel for years, and had seen it in pictures, but seeing the grand old hotel in person was pretty amazing.
We had a hard time making our way to the registration desk because of a large bridal party in line ahead of us. Turned out all of them—sixteen, in total—would be taking the same cruise. The wedding would take place in the chapel on the top deck of the ship on Tuesday evening at seven. All of this I learned from the bride-to-be, a girl named Meredith, who obviously felt comfortable sharing all of this personal information with me. She introduced her mother as Mrs. Williams—Betsy Williams—but I didn’t get much out of her except a pained expression.
I e
mpathized with this woman, of course. I’d already been the mother of the bride twice over and mother of the groom once. If time had allowed, I would’ve given her my years of wisdom in a heartfelt speech. Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it—the wedding party got checked into the hotel, leaving us at the front of the line at the registration desk. I managed a “Maybe we’ll see you on-board the ship” to Meredith then gave her a little wave as she walked off with the others.
“Isn’t that sweet?” I sighed as I turned to face Sheila. “She’s getting married in a couple of days.”
“I don’t envy her, having to pull off a wedding on a cruise ship, though.” Sheila shrugged. “But that’s their deal, not ours.” She gave me a stern look. “Right, Annie?”
“Huh?”
“I know you. You’re already thinking of ways to help them, aren’t you?”
“Of course not.” I paused. “Well, I did want to tell her that the photos should be done before the ceremony and it might also be helpful to know that the bride will be skittish on her big day, but that’s nothing to be worried about. I mean, my girls were. Skittish, I mean. Then again, my girls were facing pretty big obstacles on their big days.”
“And this bride is not. So, promise me you won’t offer any suggestions, Annie.” Sheila’s gaze narrowed. “Promise?”
With the wave of a hand I dismissed the idea. “Seriously? I’ll probably never see them again. Do you have any idea how many passengers there are on-board the Navigator of the Seas?”
“Yes. 3807. Approximately. Not counting crew, which adds another thousand or so.” She slipped her arm through mine. “Now, let’s mosey on up to our hotel rooms, slip on our bikinis and head to the beach while it’s still sunny outside.”
“Bikinis?” Orin sidled up next to her, room keys in hand.
Sheila gave him a little wink. “In your dreams, hot stuff.”
Warren appeared next to me, dragging our luggage behind. “Did she say what I thought she said?”
I nodded. “Hey, where’s the bellboy?”
Warren sighed. “I think they’re all busy waiting on that wedding party. I don’t mind dragging the bags to the room.”
“I’ll help.” I reached for my suitcase and we headed off, ready to have the time of our lives.
Chapter Three
Come Sail Away
You are now entering a stress free zone.
T he rest of Saturday was spent walking the beach, not in bikinis, but in comfy shorts and t-shirts. The waters of the gulf weren’t as pretty as I’d imagined—kind of a murky brown—but I had it on good authority—Sheila—that the Caribbean was a lovely shade of turquoise. We ate yummy seafood at Pleasure Pier, then headed back to the hotel. After a wonderful—okay, romantic—rendezvous with my hubby that night, I slept like a rock. In fact, I almost missed our wakeup call. I awoke with drool dribbling out of the corner of my mouth. Lovely.
Minutes later, we met with Orin and Sheila in the restaurant on the first floor, then pulled our bags to the lobby, where were waited alongside approximately a hundred other guests for the shuttle buses to arrive. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of the mother of the bride-to-be. She looked a little. . .hmm. Pale? Maybe she wasn’t feeling well.
Not that I paid much attention, of course. With the crowd pressing in around me, I could barely breathe. That same crowded feeling accompanied me on the bus, and during the registration process at the port. I’d never seen so many people crammed together like this before. Made my head swim. I actually felt a little nauseous. Where were those seasick patches, again? Oh yeah. . .loaded in my suitcase.
“You okay over there, Annie?” Warren asked. I could read the concern etched in the wrinkles between his eyes.
“Hmm? What?” I wiped some sweat off of my brow with the swipe of a hand. “Is it hot in here?”
“A little.” He gave me a curious look. “I’m worried about you. You don’t seem like yourself.”
“Don’t worry. Let’s just get on that ship and I’ll get some food. I’ll be fine.”
Turned out, getting on the ship took a little longer than I’d imagined. Passing off our luggage so that it could be taken to our cabin. Getting through customs. Having our photo taken for our Set Sail cards. Finalizing our expense accounts so that we could shop on-board. All of this took time. And just when I thought I’d finally made it through the worst of it, a photographer caught us and wanted to take a picture of our little group entering the ship. We somehow managed to get caught behind the wedding party. Again. Not that anyone was complaining. Well, anyone but Sheila, whose patience with this process was wearing thin.
By the time we arrived on-board the Navigator, however, all complaints were laid aside. All we could focus on was the luxurious Promenade deck and the over-abundance of gold and glass elevators. Wowza. I blinked, unable to take it all in.
“Where in the world are we?” Sheila shook her head as she looked around.
“This place is huge. Looks like a mall, only nicer.” Orin’s nose wrinkled.
“Much nicer,” I agreed. I’d tried to envision what the Navigator of the Seas would look like in person, but nothing could have prepared me for the amazing space that stretched out in front of me with glamorous looking shops on either side. “Are you sure we’re actually on-board the ship?” I looked around in an attempt to get my bearings. “Feels like a luxury hotel. And we’re not rocking or anything like that.”
“That’s because we’re still in port.” Warren slipped his arm through mine. “I’m all for finding our rooms. We’re on the 9th deck, right?” He glanced at his Set Sail pass and nodded. “Yep. Deck nine.”
“Us too,” Orin said.
Getting up to deck nine took some doing. Even with so many elevators in operation, we’d never make our way through the mob of people, so we took the stairs. Warren was huffing and puffing by the time we reached deck six. Orin looked like he might pass out by deck seven and I was practically crawling by deck eight. Only Sheila kept forging ahead, laughing and gabbing all the way. I guess her hours at the gym were paying off.
“C’mon, you wimps,” she called out as we rounded the last turn on the stairway. “What’s taking so long?”
None of us had the breath to respond. With the excessive pounding of my heartbeat in my ears, I couldn’t think clearly anyway. Still, I finally put my feet on the floor of deck nine and breathed a sigh of relief. Finally. Home at last.
Well, almost home. Unfortunately, we turned the wrong way down a narrow hallway and lost our bearings. It took a little while, but we finally located our room: 932. Turned out, Sheila and Orin were in the room next to ours. We could thank our travel agent for that little blessing. Losing our friends on-board a ship this big would be catastrophic. Not that I could remember where we were. . .or how we’d gotten here. Were we forward or aft? Ugh. I didn’t have a clue.
Our cabin, it turned out, was approximately the size of a postage stamp. Warren looked a little alarmed, especially when he saw the microscopic bathroom.
“Look on the bright side,” I said. “You won’t be spending much time in there, anyway.”
“Unless I get seasick.”
“Oh, that reminds me, Sheila told me we can buy more patches if we need them. They’re in the shop on the deck two.”
“We’ll be fine.” He walked over to the sliding glass door and opened it to step out onto the balcony. I followed behind him and shrugged when I saw that our only view, if one could call it that, was the port. I gaze down, down, down at the workers below, loading crate after crate of food products onto the ship.
“At least we won’t go hungry.” I offered Warren an encouraging smile.
“Is it dinnertime yet?” He glanced at his watch. “I’m starving. We missed lunch.”
At that moment a knock sounded on our door. I answered to a giddy Sheila and Orin, who were in the mood to search the ship for food.
“Hey, did you see that the travel agent le
ft us an onboard credit?” Sheila pointed to the small desk in front of the mirror. “Fifty dollars.”
“Cool. What should we use it for?” I asked.
“Oh, a refillable soda bottle, maybe. Or a special meal in that fancy restaurant on the top deck. Or even Internet access. It costs a fortune to get on the Internet here, but fifty dollars would be a good start.”
“Hopefully she won’t need the Internet,” Warren said. “Right, Annie?”
“Hey, I make no promises. I might decide to check in with the kids. You know?”
He sighed.
“Let’s go up to the Windjammer Café on deck eleven,” Sheila said. “They’ve got all sorts of yummy options, from what I read online.”
We somehow made it through the crowd up to the 11th deck, where we joined approximately ten million other people in grazing on a variety of foods at the Windjammer buffet. Afterwards, the Captain got our attention on the loudspeaker, announcing a safety drill. Then, around five-fifteen Orin suggested we head back to our cabins to dress for dinner.
“Didn’t we just eat?” Sheila asked.
“Well, sure.” Orin gave her a curious look. “But I’m getting my money’s worth and it starts today.”
“So, is that what you plan to do to entertain yourself?” Sheila asked.
“I am,” Orin said. “I’m gonna eat. And when I’m done with that, I’m going to sleep. And then I’m going to eat again.”
“Well, I sure hope you’ll go to the shows with us at night,” I said. “It won’t be the same if you don’t. Warren will feel like the odd man out.”
“With you and Sheila?” My husband laughed. “I’m always the odd man out.”
“He has a point.” Sheila grinned. “But don’t you worry, folks. Orin’s already promised me he’ll do everything the rest of us do, shows and all.”
“As long as she doesn’t make me sing karaoke, we’ll be just fine.” Orin gave Sheila a little wink then pulled her into his arms for a kiss on the cheek.
“Mmm. I feel like bursting into song right now,” Sheila said when he released his hold on her. She burst into an off-key rendition of Some Enchanted Evening.