Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
Suddenly Single—What a Trip!
H ello, Trixie!
Help! It’s my first solo cruise after a recent breakup, and I’ve been assigned a honeymoon suite by mistake. It’s awkward, to say the least. How do I make the most of this luxurious cabin without feeling out of place—and without revisiting my already broken heart?
Sincerely, Newly Single Sandy
Dear Newly Single Sandy,
Oh my, Sandy, that is quite the predicament! Okay, so I’ve thought about this. Here’s a list of ways to turn that honeymoon suite into your personal paradise.
Embrace the luxury.Why not treat yourself like royalty? Order room service, enjoy a few bubble baths, and make the most of the plush amenities. This suite is an oasis where you can and should pamper yourself.
Also, feel free to host a small gathering for newfound cruise friends! A little soirée in your spacious cabin can turn awkward into awesome.
And you can certainly take a page out of my book and document your journey. In fact, you cancapture the experience with both photos and journaling. This might just be something you’ll laugh about later and it will serve as a reminder of how strong you are.
Make this cruise all about you and enjoy every luxurious moment!
XOXO Trixie
It’s the very next morning after the discovery of Lucy Taylor’s body and I hardly caught a wink of sleep last night.
Since I couldn’t manage to keep my eyes closed, I pulled out my art supplies and sketched well into the wee hours. I wrote in my blog, albeit omitting any mention of the recently deceased, and ignored about three different hostile text messages from Stanton demanding to know what the hell is going on with the mall cop and me.
I refuse to entertain Stanton when he’s so rudely disparaging my new fiancé, especially now that I’m rethinking my life on board this big beautiful ship. What’s going to happen to Ransom and me if I decide to leave? This ship is his home, too. I would never ask him to leave it.
All of the above has had my mind and stomach in knots. I had a couple of back-to-back art classes early this morning and I somehow managed to wade my way through them.
Since we’ll be at port each day on this cruise, save for the last day, I’ve decided to host a crafts hour each morning. But the scenery here is so stunning I don’t see how I can get out of at least a few acrylic landscape classes. It’s practically a must.
Today, the ship has docked in Nassau, Bahamas and already the artist in me is lured by azure waters.
Speaking of waters, the Blue Water Café is bustling with the morning rush and the air is filled with the enticing aromas of breakfast delights. I’ve just finished up an early class—the only class I was teaching for the day—and since I’m not due to meet with Bess and Nettie on the gangway for another hour, I thought I’d feed the beast inside me.
My stomach growls in anticipation as I make my way to the buffet, eager to scoop up all my favorite offerings, starting with the fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and golden hash browns glistening with a perfect balance of crunch and softness. And you can bet I’ve loaded my plate with a generous helping of all of the above.
Once upon a time, I’d starve myself calorically just trying to maintain the impossible standards that Stanton had set for my poor body. And now that I’m free of Stanton and his bad ideas, I’ve embraced my appetite, along with all of the culinary offerings this ship offers to curb it.
I love my body and I love food.
Lucky for me, one of my best friends on the ship, Elodie Abernathy, happens to run the Queen’s Mall downstairs and she’s more than happy to keep me in A-line dresses to accommodate my newfound love of carbs and artisanal cheeses alike.
Next, I move on to the sweet treat section of the buffet where I stack yet another plate high with golden waffles and pancakes before I smother them in syrup and then top them with fresh berries, and don’t think for a minute that I forget about the whipped cream. I also snap up a selection of pastries—one chocolate-filled croissant (which shows remarkable restraint on my part), one cheese Danish, one marzipan Danish (one of my new favorites), and two buttery cranberry orange scones that promise to melt in my mouth.
Satisfied with my selections, I grab a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, create the perfect latte, and then turn away from the culinary offerings in hopes of finding a seat. Just as I’m scouting for a table, a familiar voice calls out behind me.
“Oh no you don’t without me!”
Before I know it, Elodie Abernathy herself strides over with her blonde bob bouncing with every step. Elodie is the aforementioned manager of the Queen’s Mall, originally from South Africa, and a certified man-eater with a sarcastic charm to boot.
I shoot a genuine smile her way. “I’m starting to think I shouldn’t do anything without you. Life for everyone might be safer that way,” I tease.
“Anything?” She waggles her brows. “Don’t tell me you’re already looking to spice things up in the bedroom with Handsome Ransom. Talk about going from zero to hero. And in case you’re wondering, I would be the hero in this scenario.” She winks my way as we step outside onto the deck and the warm Bahamian breeze greets us, carrying the scent of saltwater and tropical flowers—it might actually be perfume from a fellow passenger, but a girl can dream.
We find a table with a perfect view of the bustling port and settle in as Elodie takes a bite of my croissant before breaking it in half and tossing a piece my way—the smaller piece.
The sun casts a warm glow over the ship, and for a moment I get lost in the brilliant blues and greens that Nassau has to offer. The sight of the turquoise water, the white sandy beaches, and the colorful buildings add a touch of paradise to our morning.
“Would you look at that view?” I say, sighing at the scenery. “Makes you want to forget all about your troubles, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t have any troubles,” she says, toasting me with her half of the croissant—the bigger half. “But you seem to be up to your eyeballs in misadventures as your surname suggests. Spill, Troublefield. I want all the dirt.”
“Last night was a mess.” I cringe before taking a sip of my coffee. “We found the body of a poor woman in?—”
Elodie cuts me off with a wave of her hand. “Not that dirt. I heard an earful from Tinsley this morning. Why would I care about the dead? I want to know if things have progressed in the bedroom with you and you-know-who now that he’s landed a ring on your finger. As far as I can tell, the man is alive and kicking. And believe me, I understand all too well what a living, breathing man expects in the bedroom, and it’s not a knife in the back.”
“Oh that,” I say, nearly choking on my next sip. “Is that where your mind goes first thing in the morning?”
“Of course. I’ve got my priorities straight. So, are you going to satisfy my curiosity or leave me hanging?”
I’ll confess. My curiosity has been venturing there more often than not, too. As I’ve mentioned, Ransom and I have yet to seal the deal, but I know for a fact that our journey to home plate is on the horizon and I cannot wait.
“Oh, Elodie, last night was so terrible—and I’m talking about that body again. That poor woman. She was here to celebrate her friend’s upcoming nuptials.”
“Yes, the bachelorette debacle.” She glowers as if it personally offended her. At least she and Tinsley have that in common. Although I’m pretty sure it was just my upcoming nuptials that Tinsley found offense in. “That’s enough of that subject. Try to stay on task, would you? What’s a little pillow talk over pastries? Besides, I need to live vicariously through you. The most excitement I’ve had recently was convincing a particularly stingy passenger to splurge on a designer handbag. Honestly, where have all the hot men gone?”
“It’s that bad, huh?”
Elodie isn’t exactly known for her dry spells.
“It’s worse than that,” she seethes. “It’s practically criminal. I’m entertaining the thought of suing the cruise lines for creating such a hostile environment. But enough about me. In truth, I haven’t dug into the offerings this go-round to complain so much. My concern here is for you. You’re the one who’s practically hitched—and to Ransom Rut-Them-by-the-Dozen Baxter, of all people. Please tell me you’re not one of those wedding night holdovers.” She rolls her eyes and looks sick just thinking about it.
I’d call her out on that rather inglorious nickname she just gifted him, but that might just make it stick. Elodie is wicked that way. Besides, she’s not wrong. Ransom was a playboy before he met me.
“Well, I was one of those wedding night holdovers the first time around,” I confess. Although let’s be real, Elodie already knew that.
“A lot of good that did you.”
“Touché.” I shake my head at the thought. “But I can’t focus on Ransom or my love life right now.”
“Fine, tell me about the body then.” She tosses a piece of her croissant toward the railing and a seagull swoops in and snaps it up.
I give her a quick rundown of the events, from finding Lucy Taylor’s body to Quinn’s outburst and my thoughts about leaving the ship.
Elodie waves off my concern with a flick of her hand. “Nonsense. You’re not leaving the Emerald Queen , Trixie. We need you here. You have a knack for solving these unfortunate events. And let’s face it, Quinn is insufferable, and quite frankly she’s lousy at her job. She’d probably declare the nearest bird the murderer if she could. Nobody listens to her and don’t you dare start either.”
I laugh despite myself. “You’re probably right. But Quinn’s not wrong about the pattern of bodies showing up wherever I go.”
Or the ghosts , but neither Quinn nor Elodie knows about my little supernatural quirk.
“Rubbish,” Elodie says, snapping up my cheese Danish. “You’re not the problem here. You, my friend, are the solution. Besides, if anyone can handle a little danger, it’s you. And that takes us right back to the topic at hand—you alone in a bedroom with Ransom Baxter. In the event you haven’t noticed, the man is lethally handsome. If you want a foray into danger, you’ve got one. And lest we forget he was my equal when it came to bedding women before you stomped out his feral ways like a kitchen fire? He’s smitten with you, but he’s also miles more experienced in the bedroom.” She slams her hand over the table. “Now, I’m here to propose an offer you can’t refuse.” One side of her lips curves into a malevolent smile and I have no idea what it means, but I’m pretty certain she’s up to no good. “I’m willing to give you all of my tips and tricks—without charge—so that you will be more than equipped on the night that bull decides to tear up your bedroom.”
“Sounds violent.”
“Only if you want it to be.” A greedy grin takes over half her face. “I’m not taking no for an answer.” Her phone buzzes. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, what now?” she grouses as she scans the screen. “ Ooh , speaking of bedrooms, I just got a shipment of naughty goodies I ordered just for yours truly. I’d best go take care of those before Tinsley finds them and calls dibs by way of licking them.”
“Why would she lick them?” I ask, horrified, then suddenly regret the question.
“Because they’re delicious.” She rises from her seat. “And that’s exactly what your first night with Ransom will be—delicious. I’d warn you to keep out of trouble, but we both know that’s useless. We’ll speak soon. Your lessons are about to begin.”
She takes off and I stare down at my breakfast for a moment, contemplating whether or not I have it in me to take another bite.
Oh, who am I kidding? My appetite can’t be quenched.
I dive right in and contemplate whether or not my appetite for Lucy Taylor’s murder investigation can be quenched as well.
I don’t think so.
I can no sooner stop from taking another bite of my waffles than I can refuse to look at the glaring evidence in the case.
I just hope my appetite for justice doesn’t turn into an appetite for destruction.
And if Quinn is right, it will do just that—again and again.