Trapped in the Tropics (The Trapped Ice Queens #3)

Chapter 1

Lizzie

Professor Morrison snapped his book shut. “Don’t forget, your essays will be due the Thursday before spring break. I’ll be grading during the break so get them in on time. No extensions.”

The usual chorus of groans went up. Lizzie Wakefield closed her laptop and shoved it into her backpack.

“Wait, the Thursday before break?” someone called out. “That’s like three weeks away.”

“Three and a half. Plenty of time.” Morrison was already erasing the board. “Get started now and you won’t be stressed later.”

Chairs scraped. Bags zipped. The classroom erupted into noise.

“Oh my god, I’m leaving the week before break even starts.” That was Esther Stevens, practically bouncing as she grabbed her stuff. “I cannot wait to get out of here.”

Her friend Shauna threw her backpack over her shoulder. “Seriously? You’re going early?”

“Hell yes. Why would I stick around when I could already be on a beach?”

“Fair. My parents booked Cabo for like three weeks. I’m going for at least two.”

Lizzie stood and threaded her way toward the door where Maya was waiting, arms crossed, looking amused. “Spring break is literally four weeks away and people are losing their minds.”

“To be fair, you’re going to Vermont.”

“Okay but that’s different. That’s family obligation. These people are excited.” Maya shifted her bag. “We booked the house yesterday and my mom’s already made a spreadsheet. A spreadsheet. For a ski trip. Such a boomer move.”

Lizzie chuckled. “I doubt your mom qualifies as a boomer.”

“Whatever, she’s already in micro manager mode.”

They headed down the stairs into the cold February afternoon. Campus was starting to wake up from winter. A few brave souls sat on the grass even though it was barely fifty degrees.

“Vermont in March sounds freezing.”

“It is freezing. But my parents are convinced if we just do the same vacation we’ve done every year, we can pretend Dad didn’t come out so he could move in with Peter.

” Maya’s voice flattened. “Nothing says ‘functional family’ like forced skiing with your mom, dad, and dad’s lover.

And all three of your dysfunctional siblings. ”

“That sucks. I’m sorry.”

“Whatever. It’s fine.” Maya shook it off. “What about you? Spring break plans?”

Lizzie adjusted her backpack straps. “Mrs. Morgenstern needs people at the bakery. I’ll probably pick up extra shifts.”

“That’s it?”

“I want to submit some essays too. Work on my novel. Honestly, I try not to think about it too much.”

“About spring break?”

“About things I can’t afford.”

Maya stopped walking. “It doesn’t have to be some crazy expensive trip. You could do something. Like a day trip to Coney Island or something.”

A voice cut through the air, high and bright and impossible to ignore. Cynthia Shaw. She was about twenty feet ahead with Emma Trusseau, walking toward the parking lot, talking loud enough for half the quad to hear.

“...and the hotel is super close to the beach, you can see the water from the room,” Cynthia said. “We went there last year. I love it so much.”

Emma laughed. “Okay but Florida in spring break? Isn’t it going to be packed?”

“That’s the fun part. Everyone goes. It’s like the entire East Coast descends on Florida for a week. You should come. You can share my room.”

Lizzie’s gut twisted at the sheer sound of Cynthia’s voice. She kept walking, eyes forward.

But Cynthia’s voice carried anyway. “You know who definitely can’t afford it? Lizzie Wakefield. Can you imagine? She’d have to save up for like six months just to cover the flight. Too bad there’s no reward for being a snitch. She’d be rich!”

Lizzie stopped walking.

“Keep going,” Maya hissed.

Emma’s voice was quieter, uncomfortable. “Cynthia, that’s kind of mean.”

“I’m not being mean, I’m being realistic. Some people just don’t have money. It’s not her fault she’s broke. Oh yeah. And a snitch.”

Maya’s hand tightened on Lizzie’s arm. “She’s not worth it.”

Lizzie started walking again. Fast.

The student center was packed with people getting coffee, killing time between classes. Maya pulled her to a table by the windows, as far from the entrance as possible.

“She’s such a bitch,” Maya said.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. She said that loud enough for you to hear on purpose.”

“Probably. Whatever. She’s the one who can’t get over something that happened freshman year.” Lizzie dropped into a chair.

During their freshman year, before Lizzie knew what sort of person Cynthia was, she'd agreed to be grouped up with her on a project in their English Literature class.

It had become very clear, very quickly, that Cynthia didn't believe in doing any actual work and was a fan of letting others do everything for her.

Others, in this case, being Lizzie.

She should have said something. But Lizzie liked to think of herself as a decent person, so she hadn't. What she had done, however, was come down with a very unfortunate, very convenient case of laryngitis on the day of their presentation. Terrible timing, really. Completely beyond her control.

Which left Cynthia standing alone in front of the class, expected to present a project she knew absolutely nothing about.

It had not gone well.

The professor had seen through it immediately, Cynthia had been put on notice, and somehow — even though Lizzie had never said a single word to anyone — Cynthia had decided that she was a snitch.

Lizzie had always found that logic somewhat creative, given that the only person who had exposed Cynthia's ignorance was Cynthia herself.“Well, don’t let her get to you.”

“I’m not,” Lizzie replied.

After Maya left, Lizzie sat there watching people stream past the windows. Cynthia and Emma were gone, probably in Cynthia’s car heading somewhere fancy for lunch. Spring break was still a month away but everyone was already there in their heads, already tasting freedom.

Lizzie gathered her stuff and headed for the subway.

***

The F train was delayed, as always. She stood on the platform reading A Moveable Feast, the same copy she’d had since high school with the cracked spine and coffee stains. Hemingway writing about being young and broke in Paris. At least she wasn’t alone in being poor.

The apartment building looked worse every time she came home. Cracked brick, rusted fire escape, the front door that stuck unless you knew exactly how to push it. Three flights up to the third floor. The familiar creak of the fourth step.

She expected quiet. Her brothers wouldn’t be home from school yet. Her mom was working a double at the nursing home.

But jazz was playing inside.

Lizzie unlocked the door. “Hello?”

“In here!”

She knew that voice and immediately, her lips curled into a smile. She dropped her backpack and practically ran down the hall.

“Jasper!”

He was at the stove, stirring something that smelled like garlic and tomatoes. He looked the same as the last time she’d seen him six months ago: tall, lean, gray hair, jeans and a button-down like he’d just walked out of a J. Crew catalog.

Jasper had popped up in her life when she’d been nine and her younger brothers three and one and a half.

Her dad had been dead a year and her mother was a mess.

Jasper had moved in next door and struck up a friendship with the kids—and their mom.

That friendship eventually turned into love and by the time Lizzie was ten Jasper was officially her stepfather.

It had lasted for a glorious six years. Then, their marriage had fallen apart for reasons she still didn’t quite get.

Still, he’d stayed in their lives in every way he could, helping out when possible.

Until he’d moved to Florida three years ago.

Since then, they saw him twice a year when he came up for Christmas and a longer visit in the summer.

He called every week, texted, and sent her endless reels of adorable pandas getting into trouble. He sent gifts her brothers, for her, even for her mom. They got along. A blessing really.

“Hey kiddo.” He hugged her back, tight. “Surprise.”

“What are you doing here? Did something happen?”

“Can’t a guy visit his favorite stepdaughter?”

“I’m your only stepdaughter.”

“Exactly. Makes you the favorite by default. And overall.” He went back to stirring. “Your mom’s working late so I thought I’d make dinner. You still eat pasta, right? Or are you one of those anti-carb people now?”

“I will never be anti-carb.” Lizzie sat at the tiny kitchen table. “Seriously though. What’s going on?”

Jasper turned off the burner and sat across from her. “Your mom called me a couple weeks ago. Said you’ve been down.”

“I’m fine.”

“She said you’ve been sad about spring break.”

Lizzie looked away. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal.” He leaned forward. “You work your ass off, Lizzie. School, the bakery. You deserve some fun.”

“You sound like Maya.”

He grinned. “Miss Rodriguez has always been good for you. Says what she thinks. Anyway, I had a business meeting in Jersey and thought I’d give you the good news myself.”

“Good news?” She pulled a long noodle out of the pot and lowered it into her mouth.

“Yup, you see, your mom thought maybe you could come to Miami for a week. Visit, hang out, see the ocean.”

“I can’t afford—”

“What if you didn’t need to afford anything? What if someone handed you a job in Florida?”

Lizzie frowned. “A job in Miami?”

Jasper ran a company that supplied toiletries and assorted products to hotels around the south. Was he going to have her work in his warehouse?

“Not quite. I didn’t think you’d want to stay in my bachelor pad and sleep on my futon.

Plus, Miami is…meh. However, I know someone.

He’s on the board of directors at the Carlson Seaside Resort in Key West. Not exactly a friend but I helped him out a few times over the years and he owes me.

Peter Lassiter.” He showed her his phone.

Email, official letterhead, her name right there in the subject line.

“Six-week internship. Guest services, events, front desk. Starts in two weeks.”

The room tilted.

“Six weeks, in Key West?”

“The room’s included and there’s a stipend to cover expenses.”

“But…isn’t there a process I have to go through? An application?”

He smiled. “I submitted your resume already. Thank your mom for sending it to me. My guy at the resort looked it over and approved it. He’s on the board. And he owes me, so, don’t worry about that.”

She frowned. “I don’t want to take an internship from someone else just because you know someone.”

Jasper patted her hand. “Don’t worry. Pete told me they haven’t found anyone suitable, and he was grateful for my suggestions.”

She wanted to say yes. Badly. But six weeks was far longer than her spring break. “I have classes for part of that time.”

Jasper scratched his scruffy chin, sprinkled with far more salt than the last time she’d seen him. “How many days are you actually on campus?”

“Two days, for four classes. The rest is remote.”

“Can you do them all remotely?”

Her mind was racing. “Most of them, yeah. Both my professors have online options. I’d have to arrange it but...” She stared at the email. “This is real?”

“Completely real.”

“Key West.” The word felt impossible. “Hemingway lived there.”

“He did. House is a museum now. You could visit.”

She couldn’t breathe. Key West. The place she’d dreamed about since she first read The Old Man and the Sea in ninth grade. The place that was supposed to be for other people. Rich people.

“Why?” Her voice cracked. “Why would you do this?”

Jasper reached across and took her hand. “Because I want to.”

The front door opened. “Jasper? You here?”

“Kitchen!” he called.

Her mom appeared in scrubs, hair falling out of its bun, exhaustion written all over her. But she saw Lizzie’s face and smiled. “He told you?”

“He told me.” Lizzie stood. “Mom, this is crazy. I’d have to rearrange everything.”

“So rearrange it.” Her mom set down her bag. “When’s the last time you did something for yourself?”

“I don’t know.”

“Exactly.” She came over, put her hands on Lizzie’s shoulders. “You’re twenty-two. You should have adventures. This is work and adventure. Talk to your professors Monday. Make it work.”

“What about Mrs. Morgenstern?”

“You can talk to her. She’ll get it. Despite appearances, she was young once.”

Lizzie looked between them. Her mom who worked double shifts to keep them fed. Jasper who wasn’t even technically family anymore but was here anyway, making this happen.

“Key West,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.”

That night, after Jasper left and her mom went to bed and her brothers were asleep, Lizzie sat at her desk staring at her laptop. There was a bunch of work due. She’d have to talk to every professor, arrange everything, make it work remotely.

She could do it. She had to do it.

She opened a new document. Titled it: Key West.

The blank page stared back. Usually that emptiness felt like pressure, like failure waiting to happen.

Tonight it felt like the beginning of something she couldn’t name yet.

Tonight it felt like possibility.