Getting Old is the Best Revenge (17 page)

Sophie is referring to this third day of high winds we've been having. No one dares mention the H word. Hurricane season isn't due for a month yet.

"I got another joke for you," says Hy. The rest of us groan. "What has seventy-five balls and makes women smile? Bingo!" He playfully gooses his giggling wife, Lola.

"What about the Peeping Tom?" May asks.

"It'll keep 'til we get back," Evvie answers.

My mind is not on these festivities. I keep looking toward the door, but there is no sign of Jack and we have to leave in about ten minutes. I can't believe he hasn't called me, and I stubbornly refuse to call him. Our first fight and neither of us will give in. I guess I thought he was perfect, but he's not. But then again, neither am I.

Sol sidles up to Evvie and hands her a small bouquet of daisies. "Bonnie voyagee," he says, mutilating the phrase. "Maybe when you come back, a little date?"

"Thanks, but no thanks," Evvie says, looking pointedly at Sol. "I'm allergic."

"I'm not," says Tessie, who is standing next to them, chomping on a huge egg salad sandwich on a kaiser roll. Evvie shoves the flowers at her. Tessie grabs them, spilling egg salad all over her ample front as she does. She actually blushes. "Thanks, Sol," she says. "How nice of you."

Sol looks confused. "Don't mention it."

"Don't forget to send postcards," Mary Mueller says.

"Bring me back something. Anything," says Barney. He and Conchetta came from the library to join in the send-off.

"Five minutes more," Bella says, getting more antsy by the minute.

I'm still staring at the door. He's not coming. Should I call him? I can't just leave this way, with both of us angry.

When we hear the loud honking of horns, everybody is on the move. We are followed along the pool path back to our parking area, where two drivers wait for us. Denny Ryan has his old Ford Fairlane at the ready and Casey Wright waits by her small lavender VW. They've volunteered to drive us down to the pier. When I reach her car, Casey winks at me. She now shares a secret with my team of private eyes. Much as I'm not looking forward to this cruise, I am looking forward to putting my imaginary murder case behind me. I feel like such a failure.

Our luggage is already stacked in the two open trunks. Bright Day-Glo identification tags proclaim that we are on the
Heavenly
cruise ship and have our names and stateroom numbers written on them.

Evvie obsessively counts each one to make sure nothing has been left behind.

There is much hugging and calls of "Bon voyage" and "Have fun" and "Win a lot of money" as we pile into the vehicles. I am still looking everywhere for Jack.

The girls are giggling and punching one another in excitement, and all I feel is gloom.

29

All Aboard

S
uch excitement. And chaos. Mobs of people

boarding the ship. Suitcases stacked everywhere. The girls are holding on to one another, thrilled and petrified at the same time as they look up and up at their ship. The
Heavenly
is awesome. It is gleaming white and incredibly huge. Evvie, clutching our information packet, tells us the ship is ten stories high. We walk up the gangway and the ship's publicity picture-taking starts. Say cheese. Over and over again.

The interior main deck is gorgeous. Evvie is reading as we stare. " 'The ship weighs sixty thousand tons. It carries two thousand guests and nine hundred staff. The atrium is the
Heavenly'
s famous white, brass, and glass centerpiece. Our
Heavenly
personnel stand ready to help plan your day-on shore tours and offer information on just about anything else you might need to know.' "

We stand inside the atrium looking at the spectacular adjoining staircases and glass elevators. The girls are oohing and aahing.

Two huge placards read W
elcome Bingo Tournament Players!
and W
elcome Bridge Tournament
Players!

"That's us," Sophie says, pointing to the bingo notice. It informs us that registration opens tomorrow morning at eight.

Finding our rooms is a challenge. If we take the wrong elevator we'll end up in the wrong section. I foresee much confusion and lost girls in the near future. As if reading my mind, Bella says to all, "Don't you dare leave me alone. Ever!"

Sophie hugs her. "We would never do that to you, sweetums."

Evvie is reading aloud from her ship's instruction sheet. " 'Rooms are found by looking for odd or even numbers. Only two elevators will take you to the front and to the back of your stateroom path. Learn where they are.' "

Sophie takes a turn and proclaims the ship's slogan from its daily newspaper: " 'You've just died and gone to
Heavenly
.' " She giggles. "Here's today's schedule: 'The rum-and-Coca-Cola party is in the Angel Bar, where pizza slices, sushi, and tiny meatball appetizers will be offered as you stroll. Cocktails at five, first seating for dinner at six. Second seating at eight. And gala midnight buffet every night.' "

Ida says, "Tessie should be here--nonstop eating. She'd be in heaven." She laughs. "Excuse me, heaven
ly.
"

We finally find the right elevator. When it arrives we get in. A sweet-looking but plain woman in her sixties enters with us. She looks very confused.

"Can we help?" asks the always obliging Bella. "Not that we know where we're going."

The woman manages a small smile. "I was supposed to meet some friends but I can't find them. And I can't find my room, either."

"You'll run into them sometime," Evvie says.

"It certainly is bewildering. The last time I was on this cruise my husband led me around. I never paid attention. This time he didn't come along and I don't remember a thing."

"What deck are you on?" I ask.

"Celestial."

"We are, too," says Sophie. "Stick with us; we'll help you find your room."

We reach the Celestial deck and search for the even-number side. Our new buddy is four rooms down the narrow hall from us. We see her to her door. The woman thanks us profusely.

"Nice lady," Bella says as we open our own doors.

"Lady with some do-re-mi," says Sophie. "Her clothes are expensive. Dowdy, but expensive. Her room is on the ocean side, so it has sliding glass doors and a balcony."

"How do you know all that?" asks Bella, impressed.

"Well, you know what a clothes horse I am, and besides, I took a quick peek when she opened the door."

I smile. "Good detecting, Soph."

Sophie beams. "Practice makes perfect."

Our room, of course, hasn't got an outside porthole. Sophie, with Bella clinging to her, quickly opens our interior, adjoining door, then their interior door. "Follow me," Sophie says to Bella as they enter their room.

From where Evvie, Ida, and I are standing, we can see that the winning-ticket room next to us has twin beds, a good-sized dresser, a coffee table and side chairs, and is seemingly spacious. Our room is tiny and, to our horror, what we have is a bunk bed and a small roll-away cot, and one very narrow closet. With the three of us standing in the center, there is almost no room to move around.

"Bunk beds! Are they crazy!" Ida screeches. "No way can I climb up there."

"Me, neither," says Evvie, "not with my arthritis."

And frankly, neither can I.

"And I won't sleep on the bottom, either," says Ida stubbornly. "I get claustrophobia." She looks at the blank walls. "No windows? I'm already feeling closed in."

"Don't think about it," says Evvie. "We'll only be in here to sleep."

Meanwhile the two happy campers next door are opening their suitcases and busily arranging things in their dresser, humming little show tunes as we stand like stones.

Well, I have to try something. I pick up the phone and ask for help. I tell the operator our problem. A few minutes later our appointed room steward arrives. His name tag identifies him as Herve, from Argentina. He is gorgeous. But he is at a loss--probably no one has ever made this kind of complaint before. Ida is standing with her arms crossed defensively. Evvie is tapping her foot.

Finally, I get an idea. "Can we get rid of the bunk bed and the cot and just leave the three mattresses?"

The steward, well trained, does not argue. "Yes, madam."

There is much snapping of fingers outside the doorway. Helpers arrive. Within moments the beds are gone and all three mattresses, made up with sheets, pillows, and blankets, are placed in a row against the back of the room. What with our creaking old knees bending to climb up and down from the floor level, this will be a physical challenge. Not only that, we're basically sleeping in one long bed, but it's our only solution.

Evvie hugs me. "What would we do without you, oh fearless leader?" And I think to myself, They would have done very well without me. They would have had only two beds in the room and Evvie as the perfect guide.

We hear the four o'clock signal informing us we are about to depart, and we don't want to miss the excitement on deck as the ship leaves the port.

God, how I miss Jack.

30

Run, Run, Run

W
e are heading back toward our staterooms to

finish unpacking, grabbing the fattening little snacks being offered us along the way, when we hear an ear-piercing blast of noise. In fact, a series of seven blasts in a row. A severe-sounding voice over the loudspeakers informs us, "This is a lifeboat drill. Everyone must attend. Report directly to your rooms, collect your life jackets, and proceed immediately to the Muster Stations listed on your jackets. Do not use the elevators." The succession of seven blasts continues as the voice keeps repeating the instructions. It is deafening.

Total panic ensues.

"Oy,"
wails Sophie. "We're only on the boat half an hour and it's sinking already?"

Bella asks, tugging at her, "What did he say? Why is he talking about mustard?"

"Calm down," I say loudly, needing to be heard above the din. "It's only a drill. A practice."

Evvie, turning her instruction pages wildly, finally finds the information. "They do this immediately after a ship takes off, so we'll know what to do if there's an emergency."

"So, how will we find our rooms again?" Ida wants to know. "I'm all turned around."

"Where are we, anyway?" Evvie asks, turning the ship's map every which way. "According to this we're at something called the Devil's Own Bar." A vicious red devil grins down at us from above.

Bella shivers. "That thing gives me the creeps."

"Follow me," I tell them, spotting a sign down the hall. "We have to take the stairs."

"How far?" asks Ida.

"Three flights," I say. "At least it's going down."

"Yeah, but then I bet we have to go back up," Evvie comments.

"Why can't we take the elevator?" Ida says. "We're old people. We shouldn't be expected to run around like this."

Evvie throws her a look of astonishment. "I never thought I'd live to hear
you
say that."

"I'm gonna faint," Sophie squeals.

"No, you're not," says Evvie, pushing her from the rear. "Move it."

The series of seven blasts keeps battering our ears. People are hurrying wildly in different directions. Sophie is pulling Bella along. Ida is pumping her short little legs as fast as she can.

We reach our staircase and hold tightly to the railing. We walk down as quickly as we can against the flow of others who are running up, jostling us as they do. It is utter pandemonium.

In our rooms, Evvie figures out where the life jackets are. We struggle into them as we go back out into the corridor and up the stairs, huffing and puffing.

"If I drop dead," Sophie says, "tell my kids to sue."

"This thing is choking me and I can't see," Bella says, struggling to lower her head over the top of the jacket, which is tied tightly under her chin. Ida grabs her arm and pulls her along.

We get to our designated lifeboat station, number three on one of the upper decks, where a large group of people are all bunched together in a sea of orange. All of them are uncomfortably peering over their chins, their heads looking as if they are not attached to their bodies. We are a panting mess.