Love on the Lido Deck

by Barbara Oliverio

  Annie was well known in regional circles and had quite a following on her website and blog. She was a petite ball of energy, with a slim figure and a smile that stretched across her entire face.

  “Keira, come on down to the front, cher!” she said, motioning.

  Juliet and I couldn’t help but bounce to the zydeco beat as we moved toward her.

  “Annie, I feel like I’m at Mardi Gras!”

  She gave each of us a giant hug, then handed us equally giant hurricane glasses.

  I took a sip of the rum and fruit juice drink. It was the same one that had been made famous by Pat O’Brien’s restaurant in the French Quarter but was now being served in nearly every establishment in New Orleans. Wow! Potent.

  “Annie,” I cautioned.

  “Oh, cher,” she waved me off. “Don’t you think these folks can handle a little rum?”

  My face must have shown my disbelief.

  “Now, doll, these folks are on a cruise!” She winked. “This is the only otha’ place where booze is running twenty-four hours a day besides Mardi Gras!”

  Her husband and partner of many years, Bobby Ray, stepped in.

  “Keira, my pet,” began the jovial bearded giant, “she’s just a-funnin’ you. She made that one for you triple strength to pull yo leg a little! We’re not gonna have anyone walkin’ outta here and straight to the medic!”

  Juliet snickered as Annie whipped the towel from over her shoulder and, with a practiced move, snapped me on the behind.

  “C’mon, now, girlie, you know Annie. I’ll keep it under the legal limit,” she said with her trademark impish grin. “Of course now, if someone asks for a stronger recipe, I’m gonna have to provide it.” Her ice-green eyes sparkled as she turned her face innocently to the ceiling.

  I handed her back my glass and pulled Juliet’s from her grip as well.

  “Annie, you are a pistol,” I shook my head. “But seriously, are you all set? Do you need anything that I can help you with?”

  “Cher, you go help one of those amateurs,” she said with a grin. “Bobby Ray and me got this covered!”

  I looked at my list. She was teaching the class that included how to make her signature bread pudding and, of course, the wicked Hurricanes. I was positive that not only would people have a great time in her session, but she would sell a good number of cookbooks and videos. We had debated on whether to place Annie on the first day, worried that people might be let down afterward with chefs that were not as buoyant, but in the end we knew we had to come out of the gate strong or we would lose word of mouth and risk some students dropping out of some of the rest of the sessions.

  I observed Annie heaping Juliet a huge portion of bread pudding and knew we had chosen correctly.

  “Jules, let’s go check on the other demo room,” I said, smiling.

  “Keira! Neither of you leaves this room without finishing your bread puddin’, now!” Annie barked. “Laissez le bon temps rouler, child!”

  Juliet and I managed to finally leave Annie’s demo room and turned to walk toward the other room that would hold the next demonstration. We would come back in time to watch Annie’s actual presentation.

  “That Annie is something else, isn’t she?” Juliet remarked. “How is it that she hasn’t gone national?”

  “Oh, I’m sure that’s coming soon,” I said. “She actually has recently kind of exploded on the scene. She has just been asked to open a restaurant, you know.”

  “Really? Do you think she’ll do it?”

  “Could you imagine containing that little ball of fire in one place?” I shook my head. “It was hard enough getting her to sit still long enough to finish the cookbook, as I understand it.”

  “How did it happen, then?”

  I smiled. “Her husband is actually the one who does the blogging and keeps the website up-to-date. He put the book together with her recipes and barely managed to get her to stop and do photo shoots and other things.”

  “Does he cook?”

  “Nope. Not a lick.”

  Juliet shook her head. “They’re two halves of a whole, aren’t they? To look at them, you’d never know it, though. He’s the big Papa Bear, and she’s the little Tinkerbell. Opposites really bring out the best in one another, I guess.”

  I stopped in my tracks.

  “What?” Juliet stared at me.

  Silence.

  “Please don’t tell me you left your favorite pen in the stateroom or something,” she said.

  I started walking again. I didn’t necessarily want to share my epiphany with her.

  “Ah, you caught me,” I lied. “But here it is in my tote.”

  “Seriously, Keira, sometimes ...” and she was off teasing me, but I didn’t hear her.

  Her offhand comment, that “opposites really bring out the best in one another,” just kept turning over and over in my head.

  Fine. I get it. Russ and my mother. Opposites bring out the best in one another. I didn’t need a two-by-four to hit me over the head.

  “Keir? KEIR!”

  Juliet’s voice shook me out of my thoughts.

  “Juliet, I’m right here. What?”

  Her curls bobbed up and down as she inclined her head down the passageway.

  “Ook-lay oo-hay is oming-kay,” she whispered conspiratorially.

  Why was she suddenly resorting to pig Latin?

  “What do you mean ‘look who is coming’?” I was mildly exasperated. I turned toward her, but she had managed to slip into the next demo room. At that moment, Brennan McAllister strode into view, having exited Annie’s demo room. His tanned face was a perfect setting for those impossibly blue eyes and gleaming cover boy smile.

  “Well, here’s our event princess!”

  “Hello, Mr. McAllister.” I caught his look. “I mean Brennan. To what do we owe this visit?”

  “I just thought I’d stop by to see how our chefs were doing.”

  Aargh. There it was again. OUR chefs. He just met these people last night. How dare he be so territorial! At that moment, I heard Louisiana Annie’s distinctive “yoo-hoo!”

  “Brennan, doll, you forgot your takeaway!”

  She bounced down the hallway with a wrapped tray.

  “Annie, you angel! You didn’t need to do that!” He sparkled.

  She just giggled girlishly.

  “That’s right, Annie,” I added. “Brennan could have waited until after your class to get leftover bread pudding.”

  “Now, Keira, cher, I wouldn’t have him leaving with any leftover puddin’,” Annie said. “I whipped him up a shrimp po’boy!”

  What! Annie wasn’t making po’boy sandwiches in class today!

  “We got to talkin’ and our Brennan here said he loves po’boys, so I just ran on into the kitchens and found the ingredients to make one,” Annie said answering my unspoken question as to where she acquired the fixings.

  “Now, Annie, you really didn’t need to do that!” I’m sure my tone was more admonishing than it needed to be.

  “Pshaw, girl. Man like this needs to keep up him up some strength for his work!”

  I glanced at Brennan, who just ran his fingers through his artfully disheveled locks and stood looking wordlessly innocent.

  “Yeah. He’s a worker all right,” I said. “In any case, thank you, Annie, and I’ll see you in class.” I spun toward Brennan. “I’m sure you have something to do, like a cruise to direct?”

  “You bet,” he smiled. “Annie, you’re a doll. Ladies, I shall see you later.”

  With a tilt of his head, he ambled down the passageway, whistling.

  “Mmmm, mmmm,” Annie observed. “If Bobby Ray wasn’t in the picture, I’d be chasin’ that.”

  “Annie!”

  “What, cher?” she burst into laughter. “Oh, he isn’t for an ole bayou gal like me. He’s more for a young city gal like you. What do you say, Keira? We’re all stuck on this floating city for next few days. You want me to whip up a love potion for ya t
hat my granny taught me?”

  I could only repeat, “Annie!”

  She laughed even harder. Juliet returned at that moment.

  “What’s going on here?” she asked.

  “Oh, I offered to whip up a love potion for Keira to help her catch that blue-eyed Brennan McAllister and you’d think I offered to whip up voodoo. You know I was just offerin’ to make you another Hurricane!”

  Annie’s Hurricanes were like magic, but really, me and that overbearing Brennan McAllister? I hardly think so! I drew myself up regally.

  “I believe you have a class to attend to, Annie. And Juliet, I don’t know why you conveniently slipped away, but shall we continue the rest of our day?”

  I proceeded to walk away with as much dignity as possible while they whistled and catcalled.

  Juliet joined me in the next demo room, empty except for the setup and audience chairs. Since the chef for this demo wouldn’t be going on until after Annie, he wouldn’t be checking in for at least another hour. I walked to the front of the room to review the demonstration materials.

  “I get it now,” Juliet said.

  I opened my iPad to review the notes for Joe Laughlin who would be doing a variety of dips. His cookbook was called Dip, Dip, Hooray! and was a collection of the best dips and spreads from around the country.

  “I said, I get it now,” Juliet repeated, raising her voice and cupping her hands around her mouth.

  Again, I didn’t give Juliet the satisfaction of a reply.

  “You know, you think can ignore me, but I won’t let you out of this room until I get a response.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Fine, Jules. What is it?”

  She dashed over to join me.

  “I get why you weren’t interested in the handsome brothers in the elevator. Your heart is otherwise engaged by that cobalt-eyed Adonis.”

  “Uh, no, Juliet. We’re not living in a romantic comedy,” I said wearily. “I’m not frustrated by my secret love Brennan, and we’re not destined to ‘end up together’.”

  “Are ya surrre?”

  Really. Juliet could be so patronizing sometimes.

  “Yes, I’m SURRRE.”

  She narrowed her eyes, unconvinced.

  “Right, Keira. If that’s the case, then what’s with the attitude with him back there?”

  Crossing my arms, I began patiently, “Jules, I’m just a bit peeved that he took Annie off course, okay? And as for the brothers act, I agreed to meet up with them, didn’t I?”

  “But not with much enthusiasm.”

  “Geesh, Juliet, how enthusiastic can I be about two guys—good-looking, I’ll admit—that we met for about three minutes?” I laughed. “Can we at least have drinks with them before we order the wedding gowns?”

  “Funny,” she allowed. “When will Joe get here?”

  I reviewed his demo table. Since he would not actually be cooking anything, his setup was not as elaborate as Annie’s, but I still expected him to arrive and check and double-check things. Joe was as meticulous as he was cheerful.

  “Early, I’m sure. He has a lot of chopping and blending to do.”

  At that moment, the topic of our conversation entered the room.

  “Hey! Don’t you two vixens sabotage my demo!” Joe wheeled himself toward us in a wheelchair that was so personalized it positively screamed JOE LAUGHLIN wherever he went.

  Joe had been injured in an IED explosion in the war in Iraq and lost both his legs. He returned home and, after hospitalization, entered and graduated from a prestigious cooking school in Denver. Defying those who questioned what he could do with cooking training—how could a “cripple” run a kitchen, after all?—he opened his own cooking school for the physically impaired. His larger-than-life personality was legend, and the cooking blog he maintained was hysterical. Today’s class on appetizers was one of the first to fill up, because of Joe’s combination of cooking knowledge and comedic delivery.

  “Joe! You’re early!” I leaned in to kiss him on the cheek after he wheeled up the ramp that was built to accommodate his display area.

  “Well, you know how difficult it is for a sad wheelchair victim to get around,” he mugged with his large puppylike eyes.

  “Ha! Pull that bit on someone else,” I swatted him. “I saw you zip around this ship last night.”

  “Caught me,” he grinned. “Actually, I wanted to pop in for a bit of Annie’s demo and see if I could scam a Hurricane.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t have to scam one,” Juliet allowed. “Can we get anything for you while we’re here?”

  Joe’s practiced eyes scanned the tables, set up in a U-shape for his convenience.

  “Looks like I’m all set. I’m teaching this crowd how to make Nan’s Veggie Dip, Olive Crostade Dip, and Tex-Mex Corn Salsa-Dip. We might make a cocktail as well if we have time. Can’t let Annie have all the fun.” He winked.

  “Sounds perfect. Give me a buzz if you need anything,” I said.

  “Anything?” he leered toward both of us.

  “You know what I mean!” I shook my head, and Juliet and I walked out of the room.

  There. First two demos set. Maybe we’d even get a little pool time in the afternoon. Then drinks with Juliet’s new friends, dinner, and the show. A perfect day.

  Chapter Ten

  “You would not believe how annoying that meeting was with that Brennan McAllister.” My beach cover up whipped behind me and my sandals flipped noisily on the Lido Deck as I raced over to where Alex and Cam sat companionably side by side in lounge chairs, catching the last of the afternoon rays.

  “What happened?” Alex swung her legs to one side and patted her chair for me to sit with her.

  “First, he pointed to his ridiculously overpriced watch and said I was late.”

  “What does the cost of his watch have to do with anything?” asked Alex.

  I glared at her. “NOT the POINT.”

  “Sorry, sweetie,” Alex patted my knee. “Go on. How late were you?”

  “I wasn’t late! I was early.”

  “Apparently he does not have an accurate timepiece,” said Cam.

  I turned my icy-green stare toward him.

  “Just sayin’,” he shrugged.

  “Keira, please tell me you didn’t go down the rabbit hole of arguing about the TIME rather than getting on with the meeting?” Alex gestured for the roving waiter and ordered me an iced tea.

  Unfortunately, I had done exactly that. I had actually spent a bit more time discussing clock management with him than I should have, but I didn’t feel like sharing that little tidbit with Alex and Cam. My non-reply to her statement was a dead giveaway.

  “Aha! That’s exactly what she did,” Alex turned to Cam, then turned back to me. “You know, Keir, sometimes you could let accuracy go for the sake of moving a conversation along.”

  “What! I don’t do that!”

  “You’ve always done that! You will go to the ends of the earth to prove a point,” Alex said. “You absolutely know that you were thrilled when smartphones became available and you could look up a fact to prove a point at the drop of a hat.”

  “I seem to recall you dragging me into conversations so that I could prove points for YOU on more than one occasion,” I began. “For example, in junior year at the Theta Nu Christmas Ball—”

  Cam reached over and poked me. “You two know that I love your Lucy-and-Ethel comedy show more than anyone, but, Keir, back to the topic at hand. What was so awful about your meeting?”

  “Oh.” I stopped to take a sip from the frosty glass that the server had slipped into my hand, and took the opportunity to gather my thoughts again.

  “Well, after he incorrectly accused me of being late”—I looked at each of them, challenging them to disagree with my assessment of the time discussion—”he began an incessant list of questions. ‘How many attendees?’ ‘What kind of questions were asked?’ ‘What types of questions did each attendee ask?’ It was
endless.”

  “Are you telling me you didn’t have actually the information?” asked Alex.

  “Well, of course I had the information. Do you think this is the first such event I’ve planned?”

  “Did he disagree with any of your findings?” Cam asked.

  “No.” I thought for a moment. “That was part of what was odd. He would just nod as I gave him the answer and barely look at me. He didn’t even take notes.”

  Cam and Alex looked at one another, then back to me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “What?” Alex mimicked then turned to her husband. “Cam, you’re a guy.”

  “Last I checked,” he drawled as he lay back on his lounge chair.

  Alex continued, unfazed. “Don’t you think that a reason a guy would not take notes in a meeting and avoid eye contact could be that he was not necessarily interested in the topic but the person?”

  “Ally-Cat,” Cam said, his eyes closed and his hands crossed comfortably above his head, “I think you are speculating. As a GUY, I suspect he just got the information he needed and didn’t need to take notes.”

  “Maybe,” she answered slowly, “but I agree it sounds strange.”

  Cam shrugged again. “Strange or not, it’s what happened. Keir, how did you leave it with him?”

  “Well, he got a call and had to leave, so the meeting just sort of ended abruptly.” I sipped thoughtfully, then nodded my head. “You know what, Cam is right.”

  “Hey!” Alex sounded insulted.

  I patted her knee. “Sorry, sweetie, but I think Cam has it here. I can’t judge the whole meeting because there WASN’T a whole meeting. I’ll just have to see how it turns out at tomorrow’s meeting.”

  There. All settled. With any luck, I wouldn’t see my “boss” and his frosty blue eyes until our meeting the next day. Whew. Time to relax. The lounge chair next to Alex became free so I moved over to it, prepared to stretch out. I took off my cover-up, kicked my sandals under the chair, then undid the perfect French braid my mother had concocted for me early in the morning and fluffed out my hair into the crimped, natural waves that fell out.