Love Overboard

Chapter 2

“RENDEZVOUS AT HQ IN ONE hour for new intel.”

Emily Windsor grasped her walkie-talkie while the elevator ascended. Wouldn’t the girls be excited to hear her news? She hummed an old love song from the days of crinolines and corsages as she raised her eyes upward.

“This is an interesting development, Lord.” She chuckled. “The air was hot as jalape?os with those two. Did you have me witness their reunion on purpose? I sense a little heavenly intervention. If so, who am I to argue with the Ultimate Matchmaker?”

The car stopped at several floors for other passengers, and Emily tapped her foot with each interruption. The digital display took pity on her, and the number seven lit. She made a token appearance at the safety drill, then inspected the latest group of merry vacationers before heading to her cabin. The most punctual Shipper, Geraldine Paroo, stood waiting in the hall, her lengthy spine as rigid as the book she was carrying.

“Where are the others, Gerry?” Emily unlocked the door, walked in, and dropped her walkie-talkie in the charger on the desk. She smoothed a pucker from the colorful crocheted afghan at the end of her bed.

“I haven’t talked to Daisy since breakfast.” Gerry stepped around Emily to settle on the short loveseat by the wall. “And I remember Althea saying something about bingo. If the game has started, we may not see her for a while.”

Emily straightened the silver-framed photo of her late husband and propped her hands on her hips. “I gave them a whole hour.”

“They’re from Louisiana. The clocks move slower down there.” Gerry lifted the cat-eye spectacles hanging from the chain around her neck, placed them on her thin nose, and opened her book.

Emily snorted as she pulled out the desk chair opposite Gerry and sat. Five seconds later, she was up again, pacing in the tiny pathway from the door to the bed. The timer was ticking, and she was missing half her team. What could possibly be more important? Didn’t they realize it was duty first?

“I can text Althea, but Daisy doesn’t own a cell phone,” Emily grumbled.

“You know why.” Gerry didn’t bother to look up. “She says there’s no one she wants to talk to that much.”

“But it would make everything so much easier. Then we wouldn’t have to use these antiquated contraptions.”

She reached for her walkie-talkie to summon the AWOL members but stopped when someone knocked. She opened the door to find the always-put-together Daisy Randolph Masterson standing in a black linen jumpsuit with matching floppy sun hat.

“I tried to hurry.” Her unhurried Southern drawl contradicted the words. “Did I miss anything?”

“Yes!” said Emily.

“No,” said Gerry.

The delicate Daisy floated into the room on a cloud of magnolia perfume and lowered her dainty self to the couch. “I was in the middle of a manicure when you radioed. Magda can’t be rushed. She’s such a perfectionist. That’s what makes her the best.” She held up her freshly polished nails and waggled them.

“If we can get Althea here.” Emily grabbed the walkie-talkie and raised it to her mouth. “Althea Jones, report to headquarters ASAP. Right now!”

Twenty long minutes later, Althea’s voice sang out in the corridor. Emily opened the door and waited with pursed lips as the substantial girth of the sassy seventy-two-year-old New Orleans native entered the cabin.

“Gonna lay down my burrrrr-dens,” Althea crooned.

“Your chronic tardiness is a burden,” Emily said.

“I take it you won today.” Gerry slipped off her reading glasses and closed her book.

“Two hundred smackers.” Althea waved the crisp twenties like a fan. “I cinched the deal with two fat ladies.”

“I hope you didn’t call them obese to their face,” Daisy said.

“It’s not a ‘them.’ It’s bingo slang. Number eighty-eight. We call that ‘two fat ladies.’ I’m hardly qualified to fuss about weight.”

Daisy changed her spot to the chair in front of the desk, and Althea settled on the loveseat. She folded her winnings and stuck them in the tight pocket stretched across one of her wide, beignet-loving hips.

“Can we please get started?” Emily struggled to keep her tone even.

“Emily, baby.” Althea took out a compact and powdered her nose. Her bronzed Creole skin contained fewer wrinkles than a woman half her age. “What’s the commotion? You sound like someone set your Spanx on fire.”

“I already burned that elastic torture device years ago.”

“Ladies.” Daisy withdrew a handkerchief from her purse and touched it to both nostrils. “Can we please refrain from public discussions of underwear?” She whispered the last word and shook her refined head, her chin-length hair swinging in disapproval.

Gerry readjusted her lanky frame in the narrow sitting area. “It would have been better if you used the term knickers, Althea.”

Emily poured herself a glass of water, trying to calm her impatience. They were just warming up, and there was no way to focus the girls until they finished clowning around.

Althea laughed and slapped her knee. “Since you were a librarian all those years, I bet you memorized a ton of words we could use.”

“Yes, indeed.” Gerry nodded as she pushed an errant bobby pin into the salt-and-pepper bun on the top of her head. “Lingerie, drawers, unmentionables, skivvies.”

With each new synonym, Althea chortled, and Daisy reared back as if she might faint. Gerry paused between undergarments to take a breath.

Emily clunked the glass down and interrupted the laundry list. “We don’t have time for your ribbing, Gerry. There’s a breakthrough in the Lacey case.”

The unmentionables chatter came to an abrupt halt.

“Do tell.” Daisy sat straighter. “Are things finally rolling with her and Ricardo?”

“Forget him.” Emily paced in the cramped space between their legs with her hands clasped behind her. “We need to recalibrate our sights to Jonathan King, the new cruise director.”

“What happened to the old one?” Gerry dropped her book on the side table.

“Irrelevant. Let’s find out everything we can about Jon. All I gathered is his name and that he worked with Lacey a few years ago. This will mean a whole new round of research—his background, likes and dislikes, temperament, spiritual status, the works.”

Daisy’s nose scrunched at the whiff of more paperwork. “We agreed to match Lacey with Ricardo, the pastry chef. Can’t we stick with him? Why is the cruise director a better choice?”

Emily walked to a long piece of paper stretched from one end of the cabin wall to the other and then motioned to the index of every male crew member on the MS Buckingham. The other three stared at the chart with the pluses or minuses next to each name.

“Lacey is our most unwilling client to date. She’s sharp as a tack and evades every attempt to match her. We spent an entire Caribbean cruise choosing a man to set her up with.”

“Yes, so why rock the boat now?” Gerry asked.

“I still say that surgeon from N’Orlins was a good option.” Althea moved to the empty chair closest to the list and squinted. No matter how nearsighted she got, she refused to wear glasses.

“She’s not allowed to date passengers.” Gerry returned her spectacles to their skinny perch. “How many times must I remind you?”

“Phooey.” Althea rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a stickler. A cruise line can’t dictate who to love. If she fell for him, she could get a new job.”

Daisy placed a gentle hand on Gerry’s arm before the two could get into another verbal skirmish. “But Lacey takes longer than most to warm up. She has a better chance of forming an attachment with a man she already knows. Wouldn’t you agree, Althea?” She gestured for her roommate to answer.

Althea shrugged and crossed her arms. “I suppose.” She turned to Emily. “Daisy brings up a good point. Lacey already knows Ricardo. Why are you in such an all-fired hurry to switch him with a stranger?”

“We know Ricardo was raised Catholic, but I’m not sure he still attends church. If Jon has a closer relationship with the Almighty, I’d prefer a man like that for my girl.” Emily tapped the chart with her index finger. “We observed her interactions with each candidate, and every time, she remained friendly but professional. I adore Lacey. There isn’t a kinder, more considerate person on this ship, but when it comes to romance, the girl is an ice princess. The only reason we settled on the pastry chef is because she loves his cherry tarts.”

“I could go for one of those tarts.” Althea moaned and rubbed her extended belly. “When do we eat?”

“It’s a cruise ship,” Gerry said. “You can eat whenever the urge hits.”

“But I can’t go alone.” Althea’s eyebrows flew high as the Gateway Arch while her lower lip jutted out.

“Althea. Gerry. Please focus.” Emily tapped the list one more time. “As I was saying, Lacey showed zero interest in the other men, but you should’ve been in that hallway an hour ago. They needed a fire extinguisher for the sparks those two were throwing around. They definitely seemed familiar with each other, already on a first-name basis. And Jon made a telling comment about knowing Lacey’s softer side. I’d give all my cruiser reward points to know what he meant!”

“It appears they have a history.” Daisy took a packet of peanuts from her purse and passed them to Althea. “How do you think they became acquainted?”

“I overheard Lacey mention he was good at his job.” Emily walked to the end of the long paper and picked at the tape holding it on the wall. “She’s worked for Monarch for over four years. The logical assumption is they sailed together on a different ship in the past.”

The scent of peanuts wafted through the air as Althea crunched. “You know how workers on a cruise ship can be. It’s like a dating reality show from the moment we leave port.”

“Small wonder,” said Gerry. “They spend day and night in close quarters for a six-month stretch. It would be difficult not to grow attached to someone with that much togetherness.”

“Or get sick of someone.” Althea twisted her lips, and Gerry stuck out her tongue in response. Althea ignored her and turned her attention back to their fearless leader. “What type is this new man? How does he look?”

Emily sighed dreamily. “He reminds me of the classic Hollywood movies when men wore suits and stood up as a lady came to the table. Tall, dark, and every other cliché you can imagine. Jonathan King’s shoulders stretch for miles, and his easy way of talking exudes confidence.”

“Yes, please.” Althea clapped.

“But more importantly, the man is smitten. He kept his eyes glued to Lacey no matter how fast she marched without sparing him a glance. He’s the one.” Emily’s chin bobbed as she pulled the last bit of tape off the old candidate list and crumpled it. She tossed the wad into the waste can by the desk and motioned to the woman beside it. “Daisy, get me that roll of butcher paper in the closet. Time to make a new battle plan. This match will be our crowning achievement. I feel it deep down in my bones.”

Gerry took out her laptop, and the Shippers settled in to chart a new course for Lacey’s love life, whether she wanted it or not.

Their little club name came about a few weeks into their friendship. Althea had said every team required a proper moniker. Her first husband played hockey, and she suggested the Wedding Ringers—referring to players who can turn the tide of a game with their skills. A casual observer might dismiss Emily and her friends as the sweet little old ladies on the boat, but they were the ones making things happen.

Daisy had protested that the term ringer was a little crass. They were in the romance business, not a sports franchise. It was Gerry who brainstormed the name that stuck: the Shippers, because they were all about relationships. It sounded nautical and didn’t give their true purpose away.

Emily didn’t care what they were called so long as they got the job done. And intuition told her she’d found the right match for Lacey Anderson.

Handsome, mannerly, and charismatic, with an honest smile. A man with nothing to hide.

He was perfect.