Overboard on the Ocean

by Ellen Jacobson

  “Medical condition?” I mouthed to Scooter.

  “First I’ve heard of it,” he whispered.

  I was pretty sure that the only medical condition Fletcher had was being a jerk. This wasn’t the first time I had seen him cut in front of other people. It was always him first. Standing in line was for others, not for someone like Fletcher Tolliver.

  While the agent completed the check-in process, Sylvia patted Anthony on his arm. “Do you remember Scooter and Mollie McGhie? You met them at our Christmas open house.”

  Anthony shook Scooter’s hand and nodded at me. “It’s nice to see the two of you again.”

  “Anthony is working for the business now. When Fletcher retires, Anthony is going to take over.”

  “Now, Aunt Sylvia, I think you’re getting ahead of yourself. I’m not sure Herbert would see it that way. And Uncle Fletcher isn’t going to retire for years yet. In any case, that’s not how their partnership agreement is structured. Their shares are split fifty-fifty. But you know that if either of them retires, the other one gets controlling interest of the company.” Anthony turned to us and smiled. “The idea of me taking over the company is just my aunt’s wishful thinking.”

  Sylvia lowered her voice. “There’s no way that Herbert could run the business. He can barely cut it as the company’s CFO. He’d never cope taking on the CEO role. Ever since his wife died, he’s lost his focus. We all know that he’s why so many deals have gone bad.”

  “You’ve had deals go bad?” I asked. “Is there a problem with the business?”

  Sylvia waved her hands in the air. “No, I’m exaggerating. What I’m really trying to say is that Fletcher keeps Herbert around out of a sense of loyalty. He feels sorry for him. But he has every intention of handing over the reins of the business to Anthony.”

  “But if Fletcher and Herbert are partners, how could he do that?” I asked.

  “Oh, I don’t really understand all that legal stuff,” Sylvia said breezily before changing the subject. “Fletcher, dear, isn’t that one of your potential investors there?”

  Fletcher yelled out, “Hey, Dominic, over here.”

  The man standing behind us in line scowled. “Seriously? You’re going to let someone else cut in front of us?” Then he turned and saw the person Fletcher was waving over. The guy looked like he could bench press an elephant without breaking a sweat. His black t-shirt was several sizes too small and was struggling to contain his bulging biceps and broad shoulders. Protein drinks, weightlifting, and possibly even steroids looked like they had factored into his physique.

  When the large man reached us, he grunted some sort of greeting.

  Scooter made the mistake of shaking Dominic’s hand. When he retracted his hand, Scooter’s pinkie looked a bit mangled. Fortunately, pinkie fingers aren’t completely necessary for everyday activities.

  “So, how long have you been in telecommunications?” Scooter asked as he gingerly massaged his hand.

  “Telecommunications?” Dominic had a blank look on his face as he struggled to pronounce the word.

  I held up my cell phone. “You know, telecommunications.”

  Dominic reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his phone. He showed it to me, then shoved it back in his pocket.

  While Fletcher handed everyone their boarding passes, Scooter and I exchanged glances.

  “Do you think that guy is really in the telecommunications business?” I whispered.

  “Doubtful,” Scooter said.

  “Does he seem like a potential investor to you?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then what is he doing here?” I asked.

  “No idea. You going to add it to your list of things to investigate?” Scooter asked.

  “Definitely.”

  * * *

  After the cruise ship departed, Scooter and I made our way to the Reef Beach Bar to join the others for drinks before dinner.

  “Yoo-hoo, over here,” Sylvia said, waving her arms over her head.

  Anthony was seated next to his aunt, swirling ice cubes around in his glass. When Madison pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her evening bag, he shook his head. “Put those away.”

  As she shoved the pack into her purse, one of the cigarettes fell out and rolled toward me. When I handed it to her, I said, “I haven’t seen pink cigarettes before. If my friend, Penny, smoked, she would love those. Pink is her favorite color. In fact, I don’t think she even knows that any other colors exist.”

  Madison smiled at me. “I can relate.” As she tucked the cigarette back in the pack, she snagged one of her fingernails, smudging the nail polish. She turned to Anthony. “See what you made me do?”

  Anthony rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink.

  Sliding into a chair next to Sylvia, I asked where Fletcher was.

  Before Sylvia could respond, Madison pointed at the bar and said, “He’s over there, schmoozing.”

  Anthony frowned. “He’s building relationships with the new investors, not schmoozing.”

  “Building relationships, right,” Madison scoffed. “That’s just a classier way of saying ‘schmoozing.’”

  “Maybe if you quit smoking, you’d have some more class,” Anthony said to Madison.

  Sylvia shot them a look, then plastered a smile on her face. “Aren’t the two of them just adorable with the way they tease each other?”

  “How many investors are there?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

  “Four, not including Scooter,” Sylvia said.

  Scooter cleared his throat. “I’ve still not decided. I told Fletcher that I’d …” He looked at me, then continued. “I told him that we would make a decision after we saw the investor presentation. Hopefully, that’s not a problem.”

  Sylvia toyed with her necklace. “But I thought—”

  Anthony put his hand on Sylvia’s arm, then looked at Scooter. “That’s absolutely fine,” he said smoothly. “But I’m sure once you see the presentation, you’ll be the first in line to sign up. I promise you won’t want to miss the boat on this opportunity.”

  I felt someone put their hands on my shoulders and squeeze them. When I turned and saw that it was Fletcher, I shuddered.

  “How come Mollie and Scooter don’t have drinks?” Fletcher snapped his fingers and summoned a waitress to our table.

  “Yes, sir?” she asked.

  The young woman had an accent that reminded me of our friend Melvin, the owner of Coconut Cove’s marine supply store. “Are you from the Bahamas?” I asked.

  She beamed. “Yes, ma’am. Will this be your first time visiting the Bahamas?”

  Before I could answer, Fletcher interrupted. “You’re not paid to make chit-chat,” he said. “Don’t you see all these empty glasses here? We need refills.”

  Her smile faded. “Certainly, sir.”

  “Mollie, Scooter, what do you want? Gin and tonic still your tipple of choice?”

  We nodded, and the poor woman hurried off to get our drinks.

  “You didn’t have to be so rude,” Sylvia said.

  Fletcher rolled his eyes. “She’s a waitress, not our friend.”

  I gave Scooter a meaningful look. No matter how fantastic the investor presentation was, I couldn’t imagine wanting to do business with someone who was such a jerk.

  After the waitress returned with our drinks, Fletcher asked Anthony and Scooter if they were interested in a poker game after dinner. “The other investors are here without their wives,” he explained. “It’s a good opportunity to play cards without the little women complaining.”

  “You’re not going to go on cruises without me once we’re married, are you?” Madison asked Anthony.

  “Oh, are you engaged?” I asked.

  Madison looked pointedly at her ring finger. “Not yet.”

  Anthony tugged at his collar. “Poker sounds good. You in, Scooter?”

  “Um, I’m not sure,” Scooter said. “I’m not a big poker pla
yer.”

  “No problem, we can hit the craps table instead.”

  “Why don’t you skip the casino tonight?” Sylvia suggested.

  Fletcher ignored his wife and slapped Scooter on the back. “You and me, buddy. We’re going to make a night of it.”

  Sylvia pressed her lips together. “While the guys are losing all their money . . .” she stared at her husband for a moment, then smiled brightly at Madison and me. “The girls can go to the magic show.”

  “Magic? I love magic,” Scooter whispered to me. “Can’t I be one of the girls?”

  “Sorry, mister,” I whispered back. “Someone has to keep Fletcher company, and it looks like you’ve been nominated.”

  * * *

  Fletcher completely monopolized the conversation over drinks. He bragged about his golf handicap, raved about his new convertible, and even talked up his latest business venture. The only person who was able to get a word in edgewise was Sylvia. Unfortunately, her topic of conversation involved way too many details about her recent colonoscopy.

  I was relieved when it was time to head to dinner. Sylvia said that she needed to pop back to her cabin to get something, and would meet us there. Scooter and Anthony led the way, chatting about the latest trends in telecommunications. Fletcher, Madison, and I trailed behind them. When Fletcher started telling us about the industry awards that he had received over the years, I veered off to the ladies’ room. Even though I didn’t need to go to the bathroom, it was a good excuse to get away from ‘Mr. Aren’t I The Most Wonderful Thing Since Sliced Bread.’

  After splashing cool water on my face, I applied some lip gloss and futilely attempted to smooth down my frizzy hair. When I came out of the ladies’ room, I had to do a double take. Fletcher and Madison were standing across the hallway in a small alcove. Why weren’t they in the dining room? The last thing I wanted was for them to see me, and have Fletcher subject me to more of his self-aggrandizing stories.

  I darted back into the ladies’ room, leaving the door slightly ajar so that I could see when they left.

  They had their eyes locked on each other, neither of them saying a word. I gasped as Fletcher grabbed Madison and pulled her toward him forcefully.

  “Let go of me,” Madison said sharply

  When he didn’t release her, she reached over with her free hand and dug her long fingernails into his arm. Fletcher cursed, then released her.

  I glanced at my short, ragged and unvarnished fingernails. I usually resisted having my nails done, but seeing how Madison had used her talons for self-defensive purposes was making me reconsider my nail grooming routine. When I got back to Coconut Cove, I was going to head straight to my friend Alejandra’s nail salon and get a manicure.

  “Just admit it,” Fletcher said. “You don’t give two figs about Anthony. You only care about what he can do for you.”

  Madison put her hands on her hips. “That’s not true. I love Anthony.”

  Fletcher shook his head. “You love his money . . . or rather the money that he’ll have one day when he takes over the business.”

  “You’re wrong. I’d be with Anthony no matter how much he made.”

  “You know, there’s a reason why he hasn’t asked you to marry him yet.”

  Madison’s eyes widened. “You haven’t told him—”

  Fletcher held up his hand. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. As long as you do your part, that is. You have until the end of the cruise to take care of things.”

  “Don’t worry. It will get done. Herbert is a problem for all of us.”

  “Good. Because if it doesn’t get done, well, you know what will happen.” Fletcher held out his arm. “Now, can I escort you to dinner?”

  Madison raised her hand as if to slap Fletcher.

  “Don’t even think about it, sweetheart.” He sneered when she dropped her hand. “Smart girl.”

  “I can find my own way to the restaurant,” she snapped.

  He chuckled quietly as he watched her sashay down the hall.

  When Fletcher finally made his own way toward the restaurant, I emerged from the ladies’ room. My mind was whirring. I had originally come on this cruise, because I wanted to know more about Fletcher and Herbert’s partnership, especially after the rumors that Fletcher had embezzled money from their company. Only now I had other things to occupy myself with. What was Madison’s secret? Why was Herbert a problem? And what was Madison supposed to do to ‘take care’ of Herbert? I have to admit, it was refreshing to have an investigation that didn’t involve murder.

  * * *

  When I got to the restaurant, everything seemed normal. Or at least as normal as things can be when you’re seated with a dysfunctional family and a bunch of telecommunications geeks.

  Fletcher was at one end of the long table, chatting with potential investors about the latest advancements in 5G networks. At least I think that’s what they were talking about. I tend to struggle when sentences contain too many references to data transmission, software algorithms, and antennas.

  Madison was feeding Anthony an hors d’oeuvre. She giggled when a drop of sauce landed on the tablecloth. I saw a flicker of annoyance in Anthony’s eyes, but when she stroked his cheek, he smiled.

  Sylvia was telling Scooter how fabulous her new ear wax removal specialist was. Apparently, the man could work miracles with ear swabs and organic peanut butter. Sylvia’s ears hadn’t felt better in years. Scooter gave me a pleading look as I sat next to him. To put him out of his misery I changed the subject.

  “Do you think Mrs. Moto is doing all right?” I asked. “We’re out of cell phone range, so Ben won’t have a way of texting us if anything goes wrong.”

  “Don’t worry,” Scooter said. “Ben is more than capable of taking care of our cat.”

  “Who’s Ben?” Sylvia asked. “Your housekeeper?”

  I snorted. “A housekeeper? You do realize that we live on a sailboat, don’t you? We’re not exactly the type of people to have a housekeeper.”

  “Ben lives aboard his sailboat at the Palm Tree Marina. He also works there,” Scooter explained. “He’s crazy about Mrs. Moto. When we decided to come on this cruise, he offered to watch her.”

  “Ben could use a housekeeper for his boat,” I said. “The place is a pigsty. I’m surprised Nancy doesn’t read him the riot act.”

  “Nancy and her husband Ned own the marina,” Scooter told Sylvia.

  “I can’t wait to see it,” she said. “Fletcher and I are getting excited about our move.”

  My shoulders slumped. “So, you’ve definitely decided to relocate to Coconut Cove?”

  “Absolutely,” Sylvia said. “Now, tell me, who is the best acupuncturist in the area?”

  “Acupuncture?” Scooter’s face grew pale as Sylvia described the sensation of needles being stuck into your body. Although he quickly recovered after exhaling sharply, pressing the bridge of his nose, and tugging on his earlobes.

  I pointed across the room. “Hey, isn’t that Ned and Nancy over there?”

  Grateful for the interruption, Scooter said, “What are the chances that they’d be on the same cruise as us, especially since we were just talking about them?”

  “Let’s go over and say hi,” I said.

  Scooter almost knocked over his chair in his eagerness to leave the table and escape Sylvia for a few moments.

  When we approached their table, Nancy scowled. “What are you doing here?”

  In contrast to his wife’s grumpy greeting, Ned beamed at us. “What a pleasant surprise. Are you having a romantic getaway?”

  “We’re here on business,” Scooter said.

  After he explained Fletcher’s investment opportunity, Ned said, “If you’re looking for something to invest in, you could always buy the marina.”

  “You’re selling the marina?” I asked.

  Nancy interjected. “We’re considering it.”

  “It’s a lot of work,” Ned said. “I’d like to enjoy reti
rement and have more time with our grandkids. But Nancy isn’t convinced. She likes to stay busy, you know.”

  Staying busy for Nancy involved bossing people around, telling everyone what they’re doing wrong, and enforcing ridiculous rules and regulations. Ned should be careful what he wished for. If they sold the marina, Nancy would focus all of her energy on him. I could imagine a future for him that involved lessons on how to tear paper towels off the roll correctly, detailed manuals on how to clean the kitchen appliances, and being chastised for wasting time watching old movies.

  “Our kids surprised us with this trip,” Ned said. “We had no idea it was happening until our daughter picked us up and drove us to the cruise ship terminal. She had already gotten our passports and even packed our bags.”

  “What a lovely surprise,” I said.

  Ned nodded, then added ruefully. “To tell you the truth, I’d much rather be heading to the Bahamas on a sailboat. Don’t get me wrong, the cruise ship is nice. But it’s not the same as feeling the wind in your face as you trim the sails. I’d love to get another boat.”

  Nancy’s expression softened as she patted Ned’s hand. “I think those days are over. You don’t want to have to get your knees replaced again, do you? And your arthritis keeps acting up.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Ned sighed, then looked at us. “Are the two of you still planning on heading to the Bahamas after Christmas?”

  “Yep, with the first decent weather window, we’re gone,” Scooter said.

  Nancy pursed her lips. “Are you sure that boat of yours will make it in one piece?”

  A year ago, if someone had asked me that, I would have hesitated before answering. Only now, I jumped to M.J.’s defense. “Of course, she’ll make it. We’ve put a lot of time, money, and sweat into her. You won’t find a finer sailboat anywhere.”

  Nancy looked at me doubtfully, then she tapped Ned’s arm. “There’s that nice fellow we were chatting with earlier.”

  As Ned waved the man over, I realized they were talking about Fletcher’s business partner.