Love Overboard

Chapter 37

LACEY’S REDHEADED ROOMMATE BIT INTO her buffalo chicken wrap. The iceberg lettuce crunched in her mouth as she chewed with a quizzical scrunch of her brow. “Is it just me, or has the food gotten better lately?”

Lacey shrugged. “Maybe the passengers aren’t eating as much, and they’re giving us the leftovers.”

“Cruise ship passengers eating less?” Abby took another bite. “What are the chances of that happening?”

“I see your point.” Lacey cut a corner off her lasagna and pushed it around the plate with her fork.

The staff dining room was almost deserted. Apart from a lone housemaid slurping her soup in the corner, they had the place to themselves. Lacey glanced at the digital clock hanging above the door. Three hours until she’d see Jon.

She took her knife and sliced into the pasta again. They should meet in his office to lessen the gossip. Not that they were hiding their relationship anymore. They’d walked through the lobby with their arms around each other on turnaround day. Half the ship must have heard by now.

“What’s wrong?”

Lacey’s head snapped up. “What did you say?”

Abby motioned to Lacey’s lunch. The lasagna was cut into tiny, bite-size pieces. “If it doesn’t taste good, order a different dish.”

“The food is fine.” Lacey shoved the plate away. “But I’m not hungry.”

Abby set her wrap aside, wiped her hands, and placed her elbows on the table. She steepled her fingers in front of her face and perused Lacey.

“What?” She squirmed under the scrutiny.

“You don’t look sick. Or unhappy. You look like something good happened.”

Lacey schooled her features into a passive mask. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Abby placed a finger under Lacey’s chin and tilted her head. “I’d say your eyes are sparkling, but that would be too cliché. You look … lighter.”

Oof.Good friends knew which emotional buttons to push. The tide rose inside Lacey. She gave Abby a watery smile. “I feel lighter.”

“Is this because your parents left?”

“Of course not.” She dropped her gaze. “Okay, a tiny bit that, but mostly something else.”

Abby balled a fist. “Am I going to have to beat it out of you?”

Lacey laughed and raised her hands. “I surrender. The truth is—”

“Hello, sweet potato.” Jon slid onto the chair beside Lacey and kissed her on the cheek.

She quirked her eyebrow at him. “Sweet potato?”

“I’m trying out endearments. What do you think?”

“I think you better keep thinking.” She jabbed him in the rib cage.

He doubled over and moaned. “Oh, the woman is cruel.”

Lacey brandished both index fingers and poked him again.

He grabbed hold of them and swung them back and forth. “If you wanted to hold hands, you should’ve told me.”

“What are you doing here?” Her fingers curled around his. “I thought you were busy until later.”

“I’m still busy. That’s why I came looking for you. I have a ton of work, but I couldn’t concentrate. I missed you too much.”

“Oh, really?” Lacey feigned an innocent expression.

“I figured if I saw you, I might be able to focus again.”

“How’s that working for you?”

Jon tugged on her hands. “Not so good. I can’t keep my mind on anything but you.”

Lacey cringed at the cheese level of their conversation, but the sound of a throat clearing made them turn their heads.

The neglected Abby sat in the same position. Her knuckle tapped against her chin. “I could be reaching here, Lacey, but I’m guessing you wanted to tell me about you and Jon. Has there been a”—her lips puckered before breaking into a sassy grin—“change in your relationship?”

Lacey slipped her hands out of Jon’s. “What gave it away?”

“The fact you forgot I was on the same planet, let alone at the same table.” Abby chuckled.

Jon scooted his chair closer to Lacey’s and placed his arm tight around her. “Congratulate us. We are officially an item.”

“My sincerest congratulations,” said Abby. “This is the best news since they told me someone else was assigned finger-painting duty. When did you become a couple?”

“On Nevis,” Jon said.

“What!” She pouted at Lacey. “And you didn’t tell me till now? I need a new roomie.”

“I’m sorry.” Lacey reached across the table. “I told Jon not to tell anyone. I wanted to tease the Shippers a little bit.”

Abby nodded. “Understandable. Okay, I forgive you.”

Jon stood and pushed his chair away. He tweaked Lacey’s earlobe. “Now that I’ve seen you, I have to get back to work. Costumes, music, a midnight chocolate buffet. The plans for the masquerade ball are crazy elaborate.”

“Chocolate buffet? Yum,” Abby said. “What made the company throw such a big shindig?”

Jon scooted his chair in. “It’s a pilot study thing. They’re hoping it will attract more customers to Monarch, set it apart from the other cruise lines. People like dressing up for formal night. How much more would they enjoy a masked royal ball, complete with a red carpet and plenty of selfie opportunities?”

“Sounds promising,” said Lacey.

Abby grimaced. “Unless you work in the children’s area. All I hear is extra hours babysitting the kiddos way past their bedtimes.”

“Good point.” Jon withdrew his phone and typed. “We should arrange special activities for the children and additional help for the childcare workers.” He walked away, still typing, without saying goodbye.

Abby ate the last bite of her chicken wrap. “At least you know you got a hard worker.”

Lacey gathered her silverware with her napkin and piled it on top of her now-cold lasagna. “So true.”

“Those Shippers do great work.” Abby took Lacey’s plate and tray and stacked them with her own. “Do they take applications?”

“I have no idea how they choose their victims.” Lacey stood.

The petite Abby rose and latched on to Lacey’s arm with the strength of a linebacker. “Please let them know I’m available.”

“You’re volunteering for the chopping block?”

“Why are you still knocking it? Look who you ended up with.” Abby sighed. “They could find me someone medium, dark, and dreamy.”

“Medium?”

Abby pointed at the top of her head. “When you’re as short as me, anything over five foot ten is a pain in the neck. Literally. I dated a basketball player in high school and spent my junior year walking around like I had a nosebleed.”

“Have I ever told you you’re ridiculous?” Lacey grabbed the stacked trays and headed for the trash cans.

“Not in the last hour.” Her friend followed at her heels. “You’ll tell the Shippers?”

“Yes. I’ll tell them.”

Abby squealed and wrapped her arms around Lacey’s waist from behind. They waddled together to the cans.

“I wish I could go to the ball.” Abby released her and put the silverware in a shallow tub with water while Lacey dumped the food scraps in a trash can. “You chose the right job as a hostess. You’ll get to wear a gown and play Cinderella while I’m stuck with all the Hansels and Gretels.”

“I never pictured myself as Cinderella.” Lacey stacked their trays with the others. “Not even when I was younger.”

“Cinderella or not, you found yourself a real Prince Charming.” Abby laced her fingers together and squeezed her lids closed. “Please, Lord. Just one more knight in shining armor for me.” She opened one eye and peeked. “Don’t forget to put in a good word for me with the Shippers.”

“I’ll remember. You want the four fairy godmothers to hook you up ASAP.” Lacey looped her arm around Abby’s, and they walked out of the staff mess. “I have high hopes for this ball. It will be great for the public relations department. Who doesn’t love a fancy masquerade?”

They made their way down Route 66 and rode the elevator to the seventh floor. As Abby and Lacey exited the car, they met Gerry, Daisy, and Althea.

Lacey’s first instinct was to run. Then she reminded herself she was with Jon now. No reason to hide from the Shippers. “Good afternoon, ladies. Where’s Emily?”

Gerry shifted from one foot to the other. “She went ashore for … something.”

“How’s your day going?” Abby asked.

Althea crowed. “I am on a roll.” She pulled a handful of cash from an envelope and showed it off. “My son-in-law’s a pastor in Chicago. He told me he’d be praying for a blessing, and the Good Lawd answered. This is yesterday’s winnings. Can hardly wait for bingo today.”

Gerry tsk-tsked. “I wonder what your preacher son-in-law would say about your constant gambling.”

“How is this gambling?” Althea’s eyebrows sloped. “The ship lets seniors play for free. All it costs me is my time.”

“She’s got you there.” Abby pointed at Gerry, who lifted her nose.

Daisy tittered softly.

Althea tucked her envelope in the front pocket of her red sequined fanny pack and zipped it shut. “This is going in my wedding-funeral fund.”

Abby’s gaze slid to Lacey.

Lacey sighed internally and took the obvious question. “What exactly is a wedding-funeral fund, Mrs. Jones?”

“A little emergency stash of mine. One of the things I like best about these boats is the steady stream of romantic opportunities walking up the gangplank. The love of my life might be in the next group of passengers.” Althea paused to pat at the short silver curls around her face. “If he does come, I want to be sure I’m ready. Weddings are a costly business. I speak from experience. I already paid for three of them.”

“And where does the funeral part come in?”

“The only thing more expensive than a wedding is a funeral. I want to have everything paid for in case I kick off before I find my next Mr. Right.”

Abby gave a breathy giggle.

Lacey hurried to ask another question before the older woman noticed Abby’s merriment. “Isn’t that a bit morbid, Mrs. Jones?”

“Why, baby? There are two things you can’t avoid in life: love and death. Be prepared for whichever one comes first.”

“She ought to know.” Gerry lowered her nose enough to join the conversation. “With three husbands under her belt, she’s the authority.”

“Which one was your favorite, Althea?” Abby winced as Lacey kicked the side of her foot.

“Not the first one.” The thrice-married expert wrinkled her upper lip until her top row of teeth showed. “He was the opposite of a keeper. But was I happy when I dumped the cheater? I still cried myself to sleep every night for two months.” She reached over and put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Take my word. Don’t ever put yourself through that pain. Divorce feels like someone gave your heart a bikini wax.”

Lacey flinched at the analogy. “Got it, Mrs. Jones. Thanks for the advice.”

Abby elbowed her. “You won’t need it. You’ve snagged yourself a major catch.”

“So we ascertained.” The quiet Daisy finally spoke, giving Lacey a genuine smile.

“I’m tickled pink for you.” Althea enveloped Lacey in a soft, teddy-bear hug. “You don’t have to worry about Jonny. He’s good as twenty-four-karat gold.”

Gerry tugged Althea away. “That’s enough touchy-feely stuff. Lacey has a job to do. And I want to check my email.” She nodded at Lacey and Abby. “We’ll chat later, girls.”

“Hold on.” Lacey jerked forward. “I … I should wait and say this when Emily’s here, but … thank you … for … pushing me and Jon together. I don’t think I’d have had the courage on my own.”

“Awww.” Althea pressed a fist to her ample bosom. “You’re welcome, baby.”

“We were happy to help,” said Daisy.

Gerry frowned and sniffed loudly. “Don’t mention it.” Her voice held a suspicious wobble.

Althea threw her arm around the tall, bony woman beside her. “We’d better get her out of here before she starts bawling. You’d never suspect it of her, but she’s quite the crybaby.”

“Stop being absurd.” Gerry raised her nose again and stalked away.

Althea and Daisy snickered at each other and followed.

Lacey nudged Abby. “Are you sure you want to trust your love life to that bunch?”

“You thanked them, didn’t you?” Abby held out both hands. “They may be a little unorthodox, but I like their results. If they can match me with a man who looks, talks, and acts as well as your boyfriend, I’d pay any fee.”

“Don’t get your hopes too high. God broke the mold when he made Jon.”

“That’s right. Rub it in.” She crossed her arms. “It’s hard to believe this is the same Lacey Anderson who used to bolt at the first hint of romance. You’ve come a long way.”

Lacey didn’t bother to deny it. She hoped to go further still. With a man like Jon, her cynical doubts were dissipating like the foam on an ocean wave. Maybe someday soon, she’d stop shoving away the dreams of forever and family whenever they entered her mind.

Emily’s heels burned as she made her way down the never-ending Progreso pier. What had possessed her to hunt for suspicious activity during a port visit? She wasn’t forty-two anymore, no matter how young she felt inside. Not to mention her investigation had uncovered exactly nada. Now would be the perfect time for one of those red bicycle taxis, but none appeared. She slid her purse handles around her wrist and bent to tighten the strap on her orthopedic sandal.

“Excuse me.” Someone swerved around her, his arms full with a paper grocery bag.

“Ricardo?” She reached to stop him as he passed.

“Yes?” The crease in his forehead disappeared as he recognized her. “Mrs. Windsor. Buenos días!”

“Buenos días.” The poor dear. Working so hard that sweat was leaking from every pore, and she was about to make his day worse. But she had to deliver the news about Lacey and Jon. “I wanted to speak to you.”

“Yes?” He looked at the bag and backed up. “Will it take long? I need to get these supplies to the kitchen before Chef becomes angry.”

“Supplies?”

Ricardo blanched. “I may have burned a large batch of cherry tarts. He worries when I waste the flour that there will not be enough. I bought more today.”

“Why not ask the provisions manager? He loads new supplies all the time.”

He shook his head. “No. It is fine. My brother, he has a store here. I get it very cheap. No time for paperwork.”

“Don’t fret.” Emily patted his arm. “I can talk while we return to the ship.”

He nodded hard enough that the hair flopped over his forehead. They walked together, the pristine white outline of the MS Buckingham waiting in the distance.

She cleared her throat. “I know I encouraged you to ask out Lacey Anderson, but—”

“I did.” Ricardo hefted the bag in his arms. “We ate a lovely dinner together.”

“Yes, that’s nice, but I’m afraid it won’t … you probably don’t—”

“Mrs. Windsor.” He stopped and faced her. “I decided not to date Lacey. She is cute but not my type.”

“You don’t say.” Emily pursed her lips.

“Yes.” The bag sank lower as Ricardo talked. Thick packages of flour peeked from the top. “It was my decision. I suggested we remain friends and … and nothing more. If you will please excuse me, this is heavy.”

He scuttled away, and Emily shook her head. She never should’ve encouraged him. The Shippers could find Ricardo someone else. She switched her purse to her other arm and ran through the options in her mind. Perhaps Malaya at the front desk would be a good candidate.

A matchmaker’s work was never done.