Love Overboard

Chapter 32

THE BONE-TIRED VACATIONERS STUMBLED onto the MS Buckingham as a long day in port drew to a close. Lacey stood at her post in the lobby to offer assistance when necessary and bolster the spirits of the people with bags full of unnecessary trinkets and buyer’s remorse. Abby once dubbed it Affirmation Duty. Except this time, Lacey had two motives. Offer the customers moral support. And catch a smuggling ring.

Easy-peasy.

“Welcome back.” Lacey greeted the worn-out passengers as they wobbled past her. “I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“You bet I did. Check this out.” A middle-aged woman showed off the banana-yellow poncho she’d haggled over with a street vendor.

Lacey oohed and aahed in the correct places. “Fifty dollars? I’m surprised you talked him down so much.”

Lacey eyed every bag that came aboard and made a note of anyone wearing clothes baggy enough to disguise something underneath while still performing her normal hostess duties. She answered questions about the after-dinner show, complimented purchases, and directed a pair of cherry-red passengers to the infirmary for sunburn cream. They plank-walked away with their arms pointed straight out to keep any part of their body from touching the rest.

“There you are.” Jon appeared at her side. “I’ve been missing you all day.”

She shushed him and answered another person’s question. “Yes, sir. You can use the money you exchanged at the next port of call.”

“Did you miss me too?” Jon kept his eyes on the passengers and didn’t see the glare she gave him.

“Please go away. Do you want everyone on the ship to know we’re a couple?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“I would.” Lacey stepped a few feet away, but he stayed at her heels.

He tweaked the chignon at the nape of her neck. “I was wondering if we—”

A male voice bellowed, “What a miserable place that was!”

Lacey backed away from Jon.

Her father stalked into the lobby and flung his arms wide. “It’s good to be back in civilization.”

Her mother followed behind him, carrying several shopping bags.

Lacey avoided Jon’s questioning glance and hurried to her parents. “What’s wrong, Dad? Didn’t you enjoy the port of call?”

“I would have if it weren’t full of thieves.”

“Excuse me, sir.” Jon joined them. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“You’re the cruise director, correct?” Her father tugged his straw hat lower and held out a hand. “Thank you for offering. I would love some help.”

Jon shook the outstretched hand. “My pleasure.”

Lacey shoved in between them, breaking the contact. “What happened? Did a pickpocket steal your wallet?”

“You could say a one-armed bandit robbed me.” Her dad collapsed onto a lobby armchair and spread his legs out in front of him. “It’s no big deal. I lost a little money.”

“Lost it, how?” She suspected the answer but wanted him to admit it with his own lips.

“The beach was blazing hot. Your mom and I decided to go into one of the hotels to cool off. They had a casino in there and—” He pointed his index finger at Jon. “How do I file a complaint to the city? They shouldn’t take advantage of tourists.”

Lacey blocked her father and pushed Jon away before he answered. “I’ll manage this.”

Jon studied her parents. “I could check—”

“No.” She held up a hand. “I know my dad. Let me deal with this problem.”

Lacey recognized the stubborn set of his mouth. He wanted to argue.

“Please,” she whispered.

Jon searched her face. He started to say something but stopped. He nodded and left without a word.

She made sure Jon was out of earshot before she sank onto the chair by her dad. “You gambled in the casino?” Lacey’s gaze darted around the crowded lobby, and she lowered her voice. “How much did you lose?”

“Not that much.” He scooted his legs against the chair and tugged his hat lower. “I got a payout from the little machine, but when I switched to the Big Bertha …” His shoulders rose. “I bet they were rigged.”

“How much, Dad?”

He ducked his head and mumbled, “Twenty-two hundred.”

“Two thousand two hundred dollars!” Lacey sprang from her chair. “How did you spend that much on a slot machine?”

Her father’s lips scrunched into a pout. “If they had decent entertainment on this boat, I wouldn’t have been so bored. It’s not like my daughter is making time for me in her busy schedule.”

“But two thousand …” Lacey tried not to calculate how many hours of work that equaled. “Where did you get the cash?”

“Your mother had her debit card with her, and …” He waved his hand in a circle.

“Mom.” Lacey’s voice sank. “Why did you give it to him?”

Her mother’s chin quivered. “Your father was sure he would hit the jackpot. He wanted to buy you a special present for your birthday.”

Lacey covered her face with her hands, the air leaving her nose in tiny, derisive puffs. “Happy birthday to me.”

“Are you sick?” her mom asked.

“I’m fine.” She looked up, but her mother wasn’t speaking to her. She was leaning over her husband.

He slumped forward, his arms propped on his knees. “I think today was too much for me.”

Lacey’s jaw clenched, and her gaze traveled to the painted ceiling overhead. Angelic cherubs peeked at her from behind flowering trees. She counted the mischievous infants in the pastel fresco.

One.

Two.

Three.

“My chronic fatigue is flaring up.” Her father staggered from the chair and swayed.

Lacey’s fingers clutched at the sides of her skirt, wrinkling the starched material. A phone rang at the front desk. Laughter exploded from a group entering the side door. A child whined for a snack.

Four.

Five.

Her mother grabbed his arm. “Lacey, help me get your father to our stateroom. The color’s drained out of his face.”

Six.

Seven.

“Don’t bother her,” he said. “I don’t want to be a burden. She needs to get back to her job.”

Eight.

In her peripheral vision, she saw her mother loop an arm around her husband’s waist.

“Try to make time for us tonight, honey. We can have dinner together if your father’s recovered.”

Nine.

“Bye, Lacey-bell. I’m sorry my health ruined your birthday.”

Her parents headed for the elevators, and Lacey let out the breath she was holding.

“Ten.”

She grabbed the top of a nearby chair and waited for her stomach to get off the merry-go-round.

Emily and Gerry sat on the couch behind where Lacey’s family had gathered. A frosted-glass wall blocked them from view. This time, the eavesdropping was truly accidental. Gerry had wanted to observe the passengers, mining the crowd for colorful characters to use in her novel, and Emily joined her on a whim. They’d already taken a seat when Lacey and her parents walked over.

The ladies communicated with their eyes. They argued without words. Should they stay? Should they leave? What if Lacey noticed them? She might get the wrong idea. Their silent debate continued as the parents left. They waited a few seconds for the family to disperse, then let out a mutual sigh.

Until Lacey walked around the corner. She locked on them, and her left brow rose.

Their frames hunched as if they were trying to fold up like umbrellas.

Emily rushed to explain. “Dear, we didn’t mean to—”

Lacey held her hand stiff like a Stop sign.

“Lacey.” Malaya called from the front desk and waved her arm. “Can you help us, please? This couple wants more information about the ballroom classes.”

Lacey squeezed her lids shut for a brief second, smiled, and pivoted. She walked the few yards to the couple. “I’m so glad you asked. You’ll love the ballroom classes. I took one myself, and it’s better than a thirty-minute workout.”

Her cheerful chatter carried to the regretful eavesdroppers. Gerry ducked her head. Emily placed a hand on her shoulder and patted. Small convulsive shudders shook her stoic friend as she fought for control. Geraldine Paroo might masquerade as a cold, grumpy spinster, but inside, she was a hot spring of empathy.

“It’s okay, dear.” Emily pressed her lips together.

Lacey finished helping the customer and stalked away.

Emily rose from her seat. “Stay here, Gerry. I’ll explain it to her.”

She hurried after Lacey’s rigid form, but the girl was practically running. She outpaced her by half a hallway and disappeared around the corner. Emily kept on until she also passed the corner. She walked quickly despite the growing ache in her spine, examining each connecting corridor.

Lacey was nowhere.

Emily paused, rubbed at the hollow in her lower back, and tried to imagine where Lacey would go on this deck for privacy. Her head turned to the starboard side. An outer balcony stretched the length of the ship. Right before dinner hour, when the passengers were returning from town, it would be deserted.

Emily made her way to the double doors and pulled on the handle. A blustery wind hit her as she walked outside. She scanned right and left. The wooden floorboards stretched empty in both directions. Except … a crumpled white heap by the wall caught her eye. The setting sun hindered her vision.

Emily peered in that direction until she saw the huddle move. Lacey crouched above the ground, not quite sitting, with her arms hugging her legs. She shot up an instant later and stomped her foot against the floor. Her head tilted to the sky, her mouth wide open as if she were screaming. Lacey pushed her hands into her hair and grabbed it like she wanted to tear it out.

Emily considered going inside. The poor girl obviously didn’t want company. Emily grasped the knob, but Lacey spotted her. She unwound her hands from her hair. Dead air stretched between them like an awkward chasm.

Lacey spoke first.

“So now you know.” Her voice wavered. “I have a loser for a father.”

Emily thought it best to stay where she was. “I’m sure he’s sorry for his mistake, dear.”

“Of course he is.” Lacey laughed. “Every time. When he left me waiting in the cold for an hour and a half after my dance recital, he was sorry. When he declared bankruptcy and moved us to a new town during my senior year, he was sorry. And when he blows the money I send them on online shopping sprees, he’s always sorry.” The fading sun highlighted the wet tracks streaking Lacey’s cheeks. She looked out at the water and drew a shuddery breath.

Emily inched near, but the distraught girl didn’t move. Emily closed the distance and stood at her side. “Does your father have a gambling problem?”

Lacey’s lip quirked. “Not at all. He has a maturity problem.”

The correct response eluded Emily, so she remained silent.

“It was like growing up with a ten-year-old for a dad.” Lacey stared at the clouds. “If he wanted something, he bought it. If the boss offended him, he quit. My mother worked three jobs to support us, while he did anything and everything he pleased.”

Emily whispered a silent prayer for wisdom. She reached out. After taking one of Lacey’s hands between her own wrinkled fingers, she held on as the poor girl talked.

“Dad doesn’t have a drinking problem. Doesn’t smoke. Never cheated on my mom. You might wonder why I’m so hard on him.”

“You’re exhausted.”

“Yeah.” Lacey laughed bitterly. “Maybe Dad’s illness is catching—not that he’s ever been diagnosed by a doctor. I had a friend in high school with a genuine case of chronic fatigue syndrome. Poor Leah fought to live a normal life. She struggled to keep up in classes and refused to let CFS beat her. But when Dad heard her symptoms”—Lacey rolled her eyes as she shut her lids—“he immediately decided it must be the ailment he had. It was the perfect excuse to keep him from applying for any more jobs. Whenever inconvenient responsibilities arose that he didn’t want to deal with, he had another attack.” She yanked her hand from Emily’s.

“What made him that way?”

Lacey snorted. “I have no idea. Some people are just born lazy.” She scrubbed her sleeve over her face, wiping away the traces of her tears. “At least the cruise ends tomorrow. He’ll go home, and I can have peace again.”

Emily studied the disillusioned girl in front of her. She doubted any distance between Lacey and her father would bring complete peace. But this wasn’t the time to mention it. Let her believe whatever gave her relief.

For now.