Title Wave (15 page)

“Maybe the readers on this trip will realize that by the end of the voyage.”

“We can only hope,” Angelica said. She looked back toward the bar. “Do you want to try to enter the line here, or go find another place to have a drink?”

“I think I'm maxed out in this locale.”

“What would you want to do for dinner?”

Tricia frowned. “I'm not in the mood for fancy. I think I'd just as soon go to the Lido Restaurant and find a bunch of cooked veggies.”

“Oh, that sounds so god-awful boring,” Angelica said with a frown.

“Maybe for you, but I actually enjoy eating vegetables. They're full of nutrients.”

“Yes, but humans need to balance veggies with protein, too.”

“I try to do that,” Tricia insisted.

“Not hard enough,” Angelica muttered.

“Please don't press me on this,” Tricia said.

“I'm sorry. I know we disagree on food. We always have. But I'm a cookbook author. I want everyone to enjoy the food they eat, and I get the feeling you don't.”

“Of course I enjoy food. It's what gives us all life. And you are the best cook I've ever met. Well, you and Grandma Miles.”

“She taught me everything I know,” Angelica said, and gave a mirthless laugh. “If the Lido is where you'd prefer to go tonight, then that's where we'll go.”

“It's not that I don't like the Kells Grill,” Tricia said, “but I just don't feel like conforming to their regimented menu.”

“It
is
a bit froufrou,” Angelica admitted. “We're not used to that kind of dining. We're just simple folk.”

“Now
you're
teasing me,” Tricia said, frowning.

Angelica smiled. “Just a little. But what about Grace and Mr. Everett?”

“They know how to order from a menu,” Tricia said. “If we don't show up, I'm sure they will somehow carry on.”

“Yes. I'm sure you're right. And maybe tomorrow we could all assemble at the Lido Restaurant—and that way Antonio and Ginny could bring Sofia, as well. It would be nice to have the entire family together.”

“I'm glad you feel that way.”

Angelica looked like she might want to pontificate on some other subject but seemed to be biting her tongue. Tricia wasn't about to ask why.

“So, are you ready to leave the party?” Angelica asked.

“Yes.” Tricia had an inkling of what Dori must have felt when she'd fled the affair. Suddenly her lack of sleep the night before seemed to
have caught up with her. “On second thought, could we go back to our suite, order sandwiches from room service, and just stay in tonight?”

Angelica's expression wasn't enthusiastic, but she nodded. “Whatever you want, dear Tricia.”

“Thank you.”

“I suppose we could always eat your new box of chocolates, too.”

Tricia turned a menacing glare at her sister.

“Just joking—just joking!”

The truth was, Tricia was more than ready for a drink, a light dinner, and a night of dreamless sleep—sans chocolate. She was peopled out, which didn't happen often, especially when the people were as focused on reading and books as she was. And she had much to think about.

Far too much.

At some
point during the early hours, the ship had docked in Bermuda. The cessation of movement and engine noise was a welcome break, and Tricia got up from her bed and looked out the window to see the edge of the sun poking over the horizon. Sunshine and palm trees in January were sure to make this former Connecticut gal a happy camper.

Angelica hadn't made an appearance by the time Tricia left the stateroom for her brisk morning walk. She'd caught up on rest and was eager to start the day with a fresh perspective—and no morbid thoughts about EM Barstow's death—or that of a possible stalker.

The
Celtic Lady
was the only big boat in the harbor. Officer McDonald's revelation that cruise ships rarely stopped in Bermuda during the winter months explained the more-than-reasonable fare they'd all paid for the trip.

The morning air wasn't what you could call balmy—probably in the
midfifties—but the sun on her back was delightful, as would be the warmer temps later in the day. While she hadn't been keen to go ashore the day before, seeing the harbor and the colorful scooters zooming along the road beyond the dock made Tricia feel hopeful. Despite her vow to keep EM's death, and who might be slipping her gifts, from her thoughts, they kept resurfacing. She needed a distraction, and a trip ashore might just do the trick. She was even looking forward to shopping with Angelica. Perhaps there was a bookshop that carried British mysteries. Now that was something Tricia could get excited about.

As she power walked along the deck, Tricia wondered if Officer McDonald would think a visit to a bookshop would be exciting. She'd been about to ask him what he read when Angelica had interrupted the night before. Oh, well. There was no other opportunity to get to know the man better, and she'd never see him again after the ship docked. It was best to put him out of her thoughts and concentrate on other matters. Of course her new favorite subject was the renovation of her home. Maybe she'd find some British decorating magazines ashore. Once the ship docked in New York, she would download some decorating magazines to her e-reader. And of course, she could start checking out furniture and bed and bath ideas on Pinterest. It
could
be a lot of fun, although she wasn't looking forward to her and Miss Marple's lives being disrupted during the demolition and reconstruction phase of the project.

Tricia finished another circuit around the deck and stopped when she saw a column of passengers streaming off the ship. At the head of the line was Dori Douglas. She didn't appear to be with anyone and strode purposefully toward the road and the harbor beyond. Had she ever been to Hamilton before? Was she meeting a friend?

Tricia looked farther down and saw a smaller gangplank where members of the crew were disembarking. They looked eager for a
little time off the clock. Honestly, the hours those stewards were expected to work seemed draconian.

With her exercise now finished, Tricia went back inside the ship and trundled down the stairs to her deck. When she returned to the stateroom, she found a breakfast cart once again waiting for her.

“There you are,” Angelica called as she entered the lounge. “Did you enjoy your walk?”

“Yes. You can't see the harbor from this side of the ship, but you can from starboard.”

“You sound pleased.”

“Yes, I wasn't really looking forward to going ashore, but now I'm eager. Some passengers and crew have already left the ship. When can we go?”

“Oh,” Angelica said, sounding subdued.

“Did you have something else to do this morning?”

“No.” Angelica's voice was higher than normal, and though she smiled, there was a tightness around her lips.

“Is everything okay, Ange?”

“Perfect.”

Tricia reached for her usual cup of fat-free yogurt and a spoon, then took her usual seat on the love seat opposite Angelica. “Have you thought about having breakfast at the Kells Grill or maybe the Lido Restaurant?”

“You don't like eating breakfast with me here in the room?” Angelica asked, sounding hurt.

“Not at all. It's just . . . I don't know. I thought it might be fun to do something different.”

“Where would you like to have breakfast tomorrow?”

Tricia shook her head. “I guess it doesn't matter. I only ever eat yogurt anyway.”

“Yes,” Angelica said, frowning, “you do.”

“You haven't answered my question. What time do you want to go ashore?”

“That depends. Do you want to go shopping first?”

“I promised Pixie I'd bring her back a souvenir of Bermuda.”

“Since she only wears vintage clothes, you can't bring back a T-shirt.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of jewelry.”

“Have you looked over the duty-free rules for U.S. citizens? They aren't very generous. Fifty dollars if you're only here a day. After two days, it's more, but you have to fill in forms, which doesn't really matter since we leave for New York tonight anyway.”

“Then I won't buy at a duty-free shop.”

Angelica nodded. “Makes sense. But you'll still have to declare it.”

Tricia shrugged. “I might not find anything—unless we find a shop that sells estate jewelry.”

“We'll look.”

“What will you bring back to Frannie?”

“Probably a bottle of rum. She'd like that.” Angelica sipped her coffee. “Maybe we should go ashore early after all.”

“Are Ginny and Antonio joining us?”

“Um, no,” Angelica said a little too quickly, and again her voice was a little higher than normal. What was she hiding?

“Why not?”

“They want a little alone time.”

“They had some last night.”

“They want more, and who can blame them? They both work so hard. If it's a nice day, they'll take Sofia to the beach. She's never been before.”

No, at five months old there were a lot of things Sofia hadn't done.

Tricia scraped the last of her yogurt out of the container, ate it,
then returned the container and spoon to the cart. She stood. “I'm going to shower and change so I can be ready whenever you are.”

“I'd better get ready, too. We're going to have fun—just the two of us.”

Tricia studied her sister's face. Fun? Not if the worried look in Angelica's eyes meant anything.

Just what did she have planned?

*   *   *

The day
was bright, but the breeze was cool, and Tricia was glad she'd donned one of her sweater sets—this one pale blue. It went so well with the color of the sky. Their keycards were scanned as they left the ship amid another small group of passengers at a little after eleven. They had no idea where they were going, but just followed the others along the concrete pier.

“We have to take a ferry to Hamilton,” Angelica said.

“Oh? I thought we were just going to walk around the wharf. There's supposed to be a nice mall. And there's the National Museum of Bermuda.”

“Oh, you don't want to go to any stuffy old museum,” Angelica chided.

“Yes, I do.”

“No, no. I've got a surprise for you,” Angelica said.

“Oh?” Tricia asked. Here it came. Surprises weren't always welcome, and the timbre of Angelica's voice let Tricia know that whatever was about to happen wasn't necessarily going to be good.

“I've made arrangements for us to have lunch at the famous Hamilton Contessa Hotel.”

“What for? Except for breakfast, all our meals on the boat are at one restaurant or another. Or will we be able to sample some of the local cuisine there?” Tricia asked hopefully.

“Um . . . maybe—maybe not,” Angelica said, giving Tricia no other
explanation. “Oh, look, there's the ferry boat. Let's hurry. We don't want to miss it and have to wait for the next one.”

Tricia didn't want to take
any
ferry, but she dutifully followed Angelica.

They did just make it aboard, for no sooner had they got on when the crew cast off and the boat started chugging toward Hamilton.

It was a pleasant twenty-minute ride, especially since Angelica struck up a conversation with one of the locals, who gave them some good tips for places to shop. And they found that the hotel where Angelica had made reservations for lunch was within walking distance of the pier—if you didn't mind a bit of a hike.

“I don't mind. In fact, I miss walking Sarge. Oh, hell, I miss
Sarge!
” Tricia said. “Did you bring your iPad? Maybe they'll have WiFi at the hotel and we can FaceTime Pixie and Frannie to see how Sarge and Miss Marple are doing.”

“I didn't think to bring it,” Angelica admitted. “And anyway, I think we have some free computer time on the ship. We can do that later today.”

“Whatever,” Tricia said, and then winced. She hated that expression.

They bid their new friend good-bye as the ferry landed, and they, and everyone else, disembarked.

It was such a pleasant day that Tricia didn't at all mind the walk to the big pink hotel and resort, which seemed to loom up at them as they approached, and for once Angelica had worn sensible walking shoes, so they made it in good time.

They approached the main building, and a doorman welcomed them with a toothy smile. “Welcome to the Contessa, ladies. Can I help direct you somewhere?”

“We're here for lunch.”

“Ah, through the lobby and to your left.” He opened the door for them.

“Thank you.”

Angelica darted inside, and Tricia followed. The bright, elegant lobby was filled with columns, richly upholstered furniture, crystal chandeliers, and a sumptuous carpet. The reception desk anchored the right edge of the room, and large glass doors on the opposite side were opened, leading to the hotel's restaurant. A podium stood outside, with a maître d' in a white tux, holding an armful of large menus.

“This is nice,” Tricia said.

“May I seat you ladies for lunch?”

“We're meeting someone,” Angelica said.

“We are?” Tricia asked, confused.

Angelica craned her neck to look into the restaurant. “Oh, I see them. We'll just go ahead and join them,” she said.

“As you wish,” the maître d' said with a nod.

“Who do you know in Bermuda?” Tricia asked.

“Just a couple who happen to be visiting the same time we are.”

Tricia assumed it was one of Nigela Ricita's business contacts and followed Angelica. However, her stomach lurched when she recognized the man and woman seated at the table for four that overlooked the beautiful harbor. Her parents: John and Sheila Miles.

“Mother, Daddy!” Angelica cried, and hurried toward them. They turned at the sound of her voice. Tricia felt heat rise up her neck, and her cheeks began to burn. She couldn't seem to make her feet move and stood there, staring.

It had been nearly five years since Tricia had seen her parents. Her father looked tanned and relaxed. Their retirement years in Rio had apparently been good for him. He mother looked well, but her skin was pale. She avoided the sun at all costs. Being in the sun caused wrinkles, and she had very few, but then she'd had more than one face-lift and some other work done over the years and looked more than a decade younger than her true age. She had not risen from her seat, though Tricia's father had stood to give Angelica a hug.

“It's so good to see you both,” Angelica said, and turned, bending down to give their mother a kiss on her offered cheek.

Dumbstruck, Tricia still just stood there. It seemed like her feet had taken root.

“Tricia,” Angelica called. “Come and say hello to Mother and Daddy.”

Tricia shook herself and moved forward on unsteady feet. John strode forward to meet her halfway. “There you are, princess,” he said, and gave her a hug. Tricia returned the embrace, albeit without much enthusiasm. The shock of seeing her parents had rattled her so much that she found it hard to speak. “Hello, Daddy.”

John stood back. “Come and say hello to your mother.” He took her by the arm and led her to the table.

Tricia stood there for a long moment, just staring at her mother, who just stared right back. “You're looking well,” Tricia managed.

“I
am
well,” Sheila answered, her chin jutting forward in what Tricia could only think of as a defiant manner.

Did Sheila know that Angelica had finally confided the Miles family secret that had kept Tricia and her mother from having a loving relationship? Tricia didn't know, and now was not the time to ask. Angelica had said her mother would never speak about it, and Tricia believed her.

“Angelica, darling. Come sit by me,” Sheila said, indicating the chair next to her.

Angelica braved a smile for Tricia and sat down. She patted the back of the empty chair next to her. “Come sit.”

Tricia did so, and her father pushed in her chair before he sat back down. It took all Tricia's willpower not to kick Angelica under the table.