Bon Bon Voyage

by Nancy Fairbanks

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll have to go by myself.”

  There was another silence. Then Jason said, “I wish you wouldn’t, Carolyn. Some of those places are in North Africa. Given the tumult in the Islamic world, I’d be worried about you all the time you were gone.”

  “Well, I’ll be worried that you might get run over by a tractor out there on the great plains of Canada. We’ll both just have to hope for the best.”

  And that was the way it ended. Jason would not go, and he didn’t want me to go by myself. He probably thought I’d stumble across another corpse, and he wouldn’t be there to urge me to mind my own business. I was really very peeved with him.

  2

  “A Frigging Cruise?”

  Luz

  I’d just returned from a visit to the rheumatologist, who gave me a repeat lecture on the stupidity of cutting back on my meds last fall. After that he said he was “very pleased” with my response to a new medication he’d prescribed. He would be! The self-satisfied prick. He didn’t have to pay for the stuff. Pretty soon I’d need to go snag another scumbag criminal and turn him in for a reward to finance my frigging rheumatoid arthritis. I was just pouring some dog food into a bowl for Smack, a retired narc I took in when she was too old for service, when my phone rang.

  Wouldn’t you know? It was Carolyn Blue. Not that I don’t like her. I’ll never forget the time she slapped the hand of some jerk who decided to feel up one of the exotic dancers at Brazen Babes. Caro just hauled off and gave him a good whack right in the middle of a table dance. Still, I wasn’t really in the mood for any girl talk at the moment. I’d been planning to sit down in my one comfortable chair and enjoy a shot of tequila, except the doctor had lectured me about drinking, too. I never should have told him that tequila was a better painkiller than any damn anti-inflammatory on the market.

  “Yeah, Carolyn, hi. Listen, could we talk some other time? I just got in from—”

  Whatever she had to say couldn’t wait. In fact, she sounded so excited I’m not even sure she heard me. She went right on telling me about some cruise around Europe that she had free tickets for.

  “Sounds great,” I agreed, sitting down on a chair in my kitchen while Smack swallowed about a half-pound of dog food and then gave me a hopeful look. Right. Like I was going to let her get fat in her old age. Carolyn had just listed a bunch of places where the boat stopped. Most of them I’d never heard of. “Hey, you’re gonna have a great time,” I assured her, “but maybe you could tell me about it when you get back.” I managed to get that in before she could describe every single detail about the room or cabin or whatever it was she’d be staying in.

  “Not just me. Both of us,” she corrected. “They’ve got a spa and a gym and fascinating shore excursions, and the food is supposed to be absolutely—”

  “What’s this both of us business?” I interrupted. “I couldn’t afford to go on a cruise if I wanted to, which I don’t.” Smack came over and licked my hand, so I gave her an ear scratch while Carolyn told me that it wouldn’t cost us a penny. The whole thing was complimentary, except for the airfare, because the cruise company wanted her to write columns about their fancy food. Jason couldn’t go because he had a meeting, and he didn’t want Carolyn to go alone because he was a weenie—she giggled at that—and was afraid of Muslim countries and stuff.

  “Muslim, like terrorists?” I asked.

  “Of course not!” Carolyn exclaimed. “These countries are in North Africa, and if anything dangerous happens, the State Department tells Americans not to go there, and the cruise company sends us to some other port. Don’t you want to see Gibraltar? And the Spanish ports? And the Canary Islands? They’re supposed to be so beautiful.”

  “Yeah, and what does the airplane cost?” I asked sarcastically. “You know all my money goes for meds.”

  “Surely you have some left from when we kidnapped that disgusting man in Juárez,” she said. “After all, I gave you my half.”

  Oh, shit! She had given me her half, and actually I did have a lot of that money left, but I didn’t want to spend it on some frigging cruise. When I told her it would be too expensive, she said Jason could pay for my ticket since he was being so mean about not going with her. “He’ll be glad to,” Carolyn declared. “Think of how much safer he’ll feel if you’re with me.”

  I doubted that. The first and last time I saw Jason Blue, Carolyn and I were half snockered on sangria, laughing and making toasts on her patio. He hadn’t seemed that glad to meet me. Since then Carolyn and I met from time to time for lunch, but I finally had to take over picking the restaurants. She was into these cutesy places full of middle-aged, dressed-up women and food that had fancy sauce splashed on everything. I introduced her to some really great hole-in-the-wall Tex-Mex places where cops and workmen go to grab a bite. I even got her to try menudo, which is tripe soup, the local cure for hangovers. I have to admit she’s game when it comes to food. Everything she puts in her mouth is something she might write about in a column. She’s always asking some poor Spanish-only abuelita for a recipe, and I have to translate. Of course the places I like, they don’t have recipes. They make stuff like their mamas did—a little of this, a little of that, and a hell of a lot of jalapeños.

  All the time I was thinking about some of our weird lunch excursions, Carolyn was trying to convince me that I really did want to go on this cruise with her. “Why would I want to go on a frigging cruise?” I finally interrupted. “My knees would freeze up from sitting too long on the airplane, I wouldn’t know the languages anywhere we got off, I’d hate all the snobbish passengers, I don’t have any evening gowns to wear to the gourmet dinners, which I wouldn’t like anyway, and I’d probably get seasick and spend the whole time barfing on their fancy carpets.”

  Carolyn said, “Nonsense.”

  “It’s not like El Paso’s really a seafaring section of the country,” I put in before she could tell me why my reasons for not going were nonsense. “My only experience on a boat was a trip to Elephant Butte, where we fished off the side of a row-boat with a put-put motor on the back. And someone drowned while we were up there. Think how many more people must drown in an ocean.” Smack had dozed off sprawled across my feet, and my knees were starting to hurt.

  Carolyn snorted. “It just so happens that I cut out an article about exercises one can do in an airplane seat that prevent frozen knees, not to mention those blood clots that scoot up to your brain or lungs and kill you.”

  “Blood clots?” That didn’t sound good. “All the more reason for me—”

  “And at all the ports except those in North Africa, people speak Spanish, even the Canary Islands, which are owned by Spain. Well, on Gibraltar they speak English because—”

  “I can see that if I went, you’d want to tell me the history of every damn place the boat stopped.”

  “The guides will do that, and at the Spanish ports you can translate for me,” Carolyn retorted. “I might even learn some Spanish if you’d take the trouble to teach me. I thought we were friends. I don’t see why—”

  “Look, I don’t have a long dress, and I’m not going to buy one, so that’s that.”

  “Luz, you don’t have to. Just get a long skirt if you don’t have one. You can find one for ten dollars at Ross. Then you pair it with different tops and some jewelry, and you’re good to go. I know you’ve got some great jewelry. The night we went over to Juárez, I saw your grandmother’s turquoise.”

  “My grandmother’s turquoise isn’t going to keep me from barfing up all the rich food I’d have to eat,” I muttered.

  “The cruise lines provide seasick pills,” said Carolyn, “and I won’t let you fall off the ship and drown.”

  So that’s how it went, and guess who ended up getting talked into taking a cruise? I had to agree. Otherwise, Carolyn would have gone on and on about the history of the Canary Islands. My only consolation was that it would be my first and last cruise. And it wasn’t going to cost me much. No
t likely I’d get another offer for a free vacation. But my mom wasn’t going to be happy when I missed Mother’s Day because I was thousands of miles away, wandering around some country with a bunch of Arabs in it.

  Well, if those terrorists tried anything with Carolyn and me, I wouldn’t mind kicking ass. A cousin of mine got about a pound of shrapnel in his leg over there in the Middle East. Poor Jaime’s still limping, and he was a hell of a halfback on the Bowie football team before he joined the army.

  3

  “Not My Mother-in-Law!”

  Carolyn

  I was in such a good mood after talking Luz into going with me that I decided to forgive Jason for ruining the children’s plans and my Mother’s Day gift. I’d make him something nice for dinner. Maybe lamb chops and twice-baked potatoes with both cheese and onions. And asparagus. I’d bought some lovely, thick asparagus at the market. I might even make hollandaise sauce to go on the asparagus. And I’d open a bottle of that French wine he liked, Carolus Magnus. I liked it myself. Who could resist a wine named after Charlemagne? Then, once I had him softened up, I’d tell him he didn’t have to worry about me traveling alone to exotic foreign ports because Luz Vallejo had agreed to go with me. She was an ex-police lieutenant and a very tough woman, probably better protection than Jason, not that I’d mention that.

  I wondered what we’d do about Smack, Luz’s aging, retired police dog. I’d have to ask the cruise people if we could bring the dog along. No, that was a bad idea. What would we do with her on the plane? I certainly had no intention of buying a ticket for Smack and sitting with her all the way to Lisbon. And they probably wouldn’t let Smack into foreign countries or on the boat. Luz would have to leave the dog with one of her sisters, but their children would love it. No one could say Smack wasn’t well behaved. She spent most of her time napping and only got mean with people who were carrying drugs or irritating Luz.

  It occurred to me that Luz and I should go shopping together. That would be fun, and it would soothe her worries about not having the right evening wear. How many dinners would be formal? I wondered. I might well have to buy myself something new.

  While making all these happy plans, I began the dinner, potatoes first. As they were baking, I chopped the onions, grated the cheese, and seasoned the lamb chops. I even pared the asparagus stalks, not something I always bother to do. Usually I just break the ends off so the non-tip part will be reasonably tender. By the time Jason arrived at six, I had a relatively simple but very tasty dinner to serve him. I’d decided to skip the hollandaise sauce. Instead I put the asparagus under the broiler with pepper, butter, and cheese.

  My dear husband arrived smiling cheerfully. He can smell a good dinner before he’s even opened the door. When he looked at his plate, he beamed. Jason loves lamb chops. Who wouldn’t? All that cholesterol! They’re bound to be delicious. But we’d worry about cholesterol when we got into our fifties. For now . . .

  “This looks wonderful,” said Jason. He dropped a kiss on my cheek, pulled out my chair, and poured wine for me and then for himself. My, he is a handsome man, and so endearing when he’s not lecturing me. I have to admit that the sight of Jason in an appreciative mood still, after twenty-odd years of marriage, causes my heart to do a little flip.

  “Does the dinner mean you’ve forgiven me for having a meeting when you want to go on a cruise?” Jason asked.

  Before I could assure him that I’d forgiven him, he added, “I was just worried about you going by yourself. Especially on Mother’s Day.”

  “Oh, well, I—”

  “But I’ve solved the problem.” He looked so pleased with himself as he cut off a bite of his first lamb chop. Those delicious little rib chops only have about three bites on them. I always pan fry four chops for Jason and two or three for myself. “I called Mother this afternoon,” he said, taking a sip of wine to complement the lamb.

  “Oh?” I murmured, bemused. “How is she?” My mother-in-law, who is seventy-four, had a mild heart attack during the semester break. Her doctor advised her to stop teaching and rabble rousing for six months and take it easy, except for a planned exercise program at a senior citizens’ gym. She was probably bored to tears and appallingly cranky.

  “Fine,” said Jason. “Good to go, according to her doctor. She talked to him and called me back with the news.”

  “That’s wonderful. So she’ll be teaching again in the fall?”

  “Well, yes, that too. What I meant is that she can go on the cruise with you.”

  “What?” He couldn’t have said that. He couldn’t have suggested that to her without telling me. Imagine sharing a suite with Gwenivere Blue for the duration of the cruise! For years she’s never had a kind word to say to me. She thought I was a disgrace to the feminist movement, of which I’d never been a part, so her complaint was hardly fair. Then last year she’d sent me a size 16 dress. I wear a 10, and it was a frumpy dress, evidently her idea of appropriate clothing for a woman who spent most of her adult life taking care of a husband and children.

  “For heaven’s sake, Caro, what’s that expression supposed to mean? Don’t tell me you don’t want to take my mother along with you.”

  “Well, I—”

  “Mother can be very good company if she wants to.”

  But would she want to? And why was Jason being such a hypocrite? It’s not as if he got along that well with her. He even complained if I expressed any opinion that sounded as if she might have put it into my head.

  “And now that you and she—”

  “What?” I demanded. “Vera and I what?”

  “She invited you to call her Vera. That’s certainly progress.”

  “That’s because I asked her, when she was in jail, if she wanted me to call her Mother Blue.”

  “You didn’t!” Jason started to laugh.

  “This isn’t funny, Jason. The only time that I can remember your mother being half civil to me was at that women’s center party in San Francisco. Ten minutes of civility does not constitute a close relationship. She was probably just happy to be cleared of the murder charges and out of jail.”

  “And you cleared her,” Jason pointed out.

  I tried not to glare at him. He hadn’t been all that happy about my running around San Francisco, trying to find the real murderer. Not when it was happening.

  “I’m sure she’s still grateful,” said my husband.

  I took a big gulp of wine, but it didn’t help, so I dropped my head into my hands and wondered what I was going to do. Luz had already agreed to the trip. “Don’t you think you should have told me before you invited her on my Mother’s Day cruise?”

  “It didn’t occur to me that you’d object,” said Jason stiffly. “I thought you’d appreciate the company, and after all, she has had health problems. A cruise will be just the thing for her. Her doctor agreed. She can take walks around the decks and that sort of thing. She hates the gym so much, she quit.”

  So if I continued to object, I would be endangering Vera’s health? That’s what my husband was saying? And what about Luz? I really wanted to take the cruise with Luz. If the other passengers were snobbish, Luz would be the perfect antidote. And her reaction to cruise luxury and entertainment would be a source of entertainment in itself. Whereas Vera would probably try to talk the female crew into going on strike or wonder loudly why cruise captains were never women and organize a gender-discrimination campaign against the cruise line.

  My mother-in-law caused all sorts of trouble in the women’s section of the San Francisco jail before I found the real murderer and got her released. Feminism and female convicts, not to mention female guards, were not all that compatible. When I’d gone to visit her on family visiting day, something her son hadn’t found time for, Vera had infuriated people on both sides of the glass visiting window and couldn’t be bothered to give me information that might have made my familial duty to exonerate her easier.

  “If you don’t want to take her with you, you’ll have t
o call and tell her yourself,” said Jason, looking grim as he forked creamy, oniony potatoes au gratin from the crispy potato skin I’d put on his plate.

  Wasn’t that just like a man? He got me into an embarrassing, hopeless situation and then refused to accept responsibility for his actions. And what was I to do? Refuse to take his mother along because of my invitation to Luz, whom he didn’t even like? Choose one of my prospective roommates to disinvite? That’s obviously what I had to do.

  Or did I?

  4

  All Aboard

  Carolyn

  When our plane landed at the Lisbon airport, it was a beautiful May day, sun shining, with puffy, cotton-candy clouds bouncing across a baby blue sky. By contrast, we were bedraggled, exhausted, and cranky. A limping, cursing Luz had planted her cane on the toe of a man who made the serious mistake of trying to get in front of her in the passport line.

  He, in turn, demanded that the handsomely uniformed Portuguese immigration officer arrest Luz for assault. I attempted to defuse the situation by telling the officer that any man who shoved a woman with a cane was no gentleman. Then Luz said something in Spanish, and the two got into a conversation characterized by smiling, misunderstanding, laughter, and even possibly flirting. I couldn’t be sure because I didn’t know what they were saying.

  She introduced me to the officer, who raised our hands to his lips, but without actually kissing our fingers. I could hardly blame him for that. I, for one, felt absolutely grimy, although before landing, I had scrubbed my face and fingers with one of those smelly hand wipes the airline provides with breakfast.

  The fuming American with the sore foot was marched away by another officer, who had been summoned to the booth by Luz’s new friend. What did they mean to do to him? Give him a lesson in gentlemanly behavior? Subject his person and his luggage to an embarrassing search? Behind us in the line, people were complaining about the delay. Not a promising start to our vacation.