1 Shore Excursion (24 page)

“Uh, no.
Have you?”

“
Yes, of course.
That’s how I spend my weekends.
Are you
kidding
me
?
No.
It never occurred to me to Google
the
High Steppers.
But
that’s definitely what
we
need to do now. I can’t believe you haven’t already thought of it, Nancy Drew.
Don’t do it on the ship, though, where people are watching.
You know how little privacy there is in the computer room.
W
ait until we dock
tomorrow
in Stockholm and check it out at an
I
nternet café in port.
I’ll escort the group tour and cover for you.
We
don’t want anyone to know what you are doing and anyway, it’ll be cheaper off the ship
. That bitch Diana would never authorize the expense and you will end up paying it
.
Meanwhile
I’ll babysit
.”

He looked at his watch.

“Hungry, Sidney?
I am. Let’s grab some pizza at the disco and just dance all this mess away. I feel like dancing, don’t you?”

“You go ahead, Disco Queen, have fun. I’
ll check on t
he High Steppers
before I turn in
.
”

“O
kay,
” he said, too quickly, letting me know that he needed some space, too.
“
L
ater
, babe
.”

“Buy you a drink, lady?”

The voice from the dimness of the Buccaneer Bar startled me out of my fog.
I had been wandering aimlessly through the ship, ostensibly checking on the well-being of the High Steppers, but really
just thinking in circles.

It was Fernando Ortiz,
the only customer in the bar,
now rising from a corner table
.
He
pull
ed
out a chair for me, signaling two with his fingers to the bartender.
He was looking good tonight, his deep tan and
long
dark hair
set off by
his creamy linen shirt.
The shirt was partially unbuttoned,
revealing
a muscular chest and a thin gold cross on a fine chain.
It was surprising, because he seemed so sophisticated, and t
he open shirt/chain thing would
never
be my choice, but it looked pretty good on him.

“Two drinks?
How did you know I would accept?” I asked, looking up at him as he seated me.

“
I took a chance
,” he said, resuming his seat
. He
swallowed
the remainder of his drink as the waiter
set the new order
down
in front of us
.

I asked
myself
why
I gave
this arrogant man
the time of day
, even as I watched him
blow off the tip as he
sign
ed the tab
for the drinks.
I
had no idea
.
He was not my type at all.
Instinctively
I knew I should stay far, far away from this ol
e
boy
, but still
…

He leaned forward, smiling, clinking his glass with mine, and his intimate smile and sudden nearness made me catch my breath.

“You
look worried, Sidney.
You
should s
top worrying
.
Relax.
There’s nothing you can do that changes anything that has happened or will happen on this ship
.
Don’t fret over
those dreadful old people
.
What does i
t matter?
The
ir
lives are over.
Their time is up.”

“
How can you say that, Fernando?
That’s
a terrible thing to say, and it’s
not true
. They are good people, and
I can’t help worrying about them.
I’d love to stop thinking about them
all the time
but I’m afraid it’s not
so
easy. I can’t stop worrying until I get them safely home.
T
hey
may not be young and have the same interests that you have, but they
have lives, interesting lives, most of them.
They
are nice people and they
are happy,
Fe
rnando, in their own way.
How can you
say that their lives are over?”

He shrugged elaborately and leaned closer.

“Whatever.
Not your problem, my darling. Let it go. What’s past is past.”

“It’s not just what’s happened in the past on this trip that concerns me.
I’m worried about the future, too.”

He set his glass down on the table and
, with a warm smile,
took my hand in his
. T
urn
ing
it over
, he
traced the lines of my palm with his finger, and I had the wildest urge to just spill my guts to him right then, about everything.
The man was a hypnotist.

“
Do not worry about the future.
I can read the future in your palm, beautiful Sidney.
I see a torrid romance, very soon, perhaps tonight, with a
dark
,
Latin stranger.”

“I see you getting fired if you don’t haul ass right now to the call center to speak with Diana, Sidney.
It’s her third call.”

Jay’s voice boomed through the room as he jerked my hand out of Fernando’s and pulled me to
my feet.

“Gotta go. Right now, Sidney,
gotta go,
really urgent.”

Fernando leaned back in his chair, smiling at Jay with his mouth, but his eyes
told another story.

“Ah, Mr. Wilson,” he
said
, eyes darting from Jay to me, “How nice to see you. Won’t you join us?”
Then, with a smooth smile he said,
“No?
Well, then t
ake her
away
if you must.
D
uty comes before plea
sure, I suppose.
Another time, S
idney
.
”

I glanced back at him as I walked away from the table with Jay
. H
e winked.

Jay looked back, too,
and
as he marched me out of
the club he
said,
over his shoulder,
“Adios, Zorro.”

“Dear God, Sidney!
What
w
e
re you
thinking, fooling around with that guy?
Just what in the hell were you thinking?
If I hadn’t wandered
by when I did he would have had you out of that bar and down to his cabin before you could say
‘
empanada.
’
Is your brain on vacation, Sidney?
What’s wrong with you?
Did that dirt
bag
mesmerize
you?”

“All I did
, Mommy,
was have a drink with the man.
What’s wrong with that?
Stop acting like my grandmother, Jay.
”

“Yeah, well, I know where that was headed, sweetie, and so do you.
God. What a creep. Why would you even want to mess around with a
slick
SOB
with a gold crucifix and tight pants?
Leave him alone, Sidney. That guy is dangerous.”

“You don’t know that, Jay,
you don’t know that at all.
He was sympathetic and kind tonight. Really nice.
I think our first impression of him was wrong.
Y
ou’re just being judgmental.
”

“Look, Sidney.
I know men.
Believe me, I know men. You’ve got to give me that.
And I’m telling you, that Fernando Ortiz is a bad one.
Stay away from him,
c
hica. As your best friend, I’m telling you, stay away.
Now come on, let’s go out on deck.
I need some fresh air and so do you
.
Maybe it will
clear your
head
.”

“But what about the phone call, Jay, don’t we need to call Diana?”

“Please.
You
are
slipping.”

He was right. I needed a lot of fresh air.
I needed oxygen.
If I can’t even tell when Jay is lying, my
brain
is
scrambled
for sure.

M
orning dawned bright and clear in Stockholm, the sun glinting off the pointed roofs.
Eating my breakfast on the aft deck, at the Lido Café, I relished the sound of the ship docking, bells ringing, the shouts of the longshoremen, and the sound of the gangway being lowered.
Even the diesel engines of the provisioners
’
trucks
waiting to unload
all those crates of fresh produce
sounded good to me that morning.

I finished my eggs Benedict,
savored
one final perfect strawberry, sipped the last of my coffee, and went down to the cabin to get ready to go ashore as soon as the ship was cleared.

Everyone was restless after two nights and a day at sea.
The shore excursions had sold out, and I
expected even those who were not on
a tour
to
head
ashore
.

Very few of the High Steppers had opted for the City
Highlights
Tour, with most preferring to venture out on their own.
Jay was leading the city tour, leaving me with a whole day to myself in one of the world’s loveliest cities.
It also gave me time to
complete
a few
necessary tasks
,
like check
ing
out the High Steppers
in private
, without answering to anyone
.

After the tour
s
marched off the ship, I hurried down the gangway to a bank of pay phones in the ship’s terminal.

While
wait
ing
in line for a phone,
I
watched the commotion as a baggage cart was off-loaded from the gangway.
I supposed it was Bostick’s, but quickly realized that the
luggage and
high-end
store boxes
on it w
ere
far too deluxe for him.
Another car
t
followed, also fully loaded with
the same kind of fancy stuff
.

When
I saw
the
third cart, bearing several fur coats
,
a lot of designer shoe boxes
,
and a leopard-print garment bag with SK monogrammed on it in big, gold script, I
had figured out
what was happening.

Sylvia was leaving the ship.
And from the looks of things, she had spent a ton of Abe’s money on her way out.

The sailor in front of me in the phone line finished his conversation, and it was my turn.
I dialed the access numbers.
This was a personal call, so I had to make a collect call from the pay phone
instead of using Itchy’s calling card. Otherwise,
Diana
would have
a hissy fit.
A quick collect call using the access numbers would cost less than paying international roaming with my cell plan, too. I tried to use my cell only in emergencies, except for text messages, which were affordable.

The connection
to Mississippi
was crystal clear.

“M
a
mma, it’s me, accept the call.”

“Who?” My mother’s sleepy, cross voice shrieked. “Oh, my goodness, yes, operator, yes!
I’ll accept the call. Sidney Lanier Marsh, are you alright?”

“Yes, M
a
mma, yes, only ...”

“Then what are you calling me for, long distance,
from
Lord
knows where,
in the middle of the ... Are you getting married?”
Eternal hope swept shards of sleep aside.

“No, M
a
mma.
I just needed to ask you something.”

“Oh.
Well, make it quick then, darlin’.
This is costing me a fortune.
”

“
Mamma,
D
o you remember those people who lived across the street from Aunt Pearl named Finkelstein?
They lived in that squatty, red-brick house by the school. She was a checker at the Piggly Wiggly, and he worked for a beer distributor, I think.”

“I sure do.
Bill and Harriet Finkelstein.
I’ll never forget her.
I fixed one of my hash brown potato casseroles and took it over there when her grandmother died and she never returned my good
three
-quart Pyrex.
Didn’t
even g
e
t a
thank you
note.
That’s the kind of people they turned out to be.
I kept thinking she would bring it back and I hated to ask, but one day they just up and moved away
. S
he
must have taken
my good
three
-quart, Pyrex casserole dish with her.
They owed money all over town.”

“And their names were Bill and Harriet Finkelstein?
Are you sure?
And it was
her
grandmother who died, not his?”

“Yes, that’s right.
Her grandmother was a Mrs. Murphy, and they
moved here
from somewhere in Florida. Tallahassee, I think.
Mrs. Murphy always
had
oranges
delivered to them
at Christmas.
She had a stroke and died at the Midnight Madness Sale at the Sunshine Mall.
The mall people sent Harriet the door busters because they felt so bad about it.”

“When was this, Momma?
Five or six years ago?
Seems like I’ve been hearing about the Pyrex for about that long.”

“No, honey, it was only three years ago, and
you would still be talking
about
it
,
too
,
if it had been your good Pyrex!”

“Well, we better hang up now, M
a
mma, we’re burning up your
m
oney.
I’ll pay you back for the call when you
get the bill
.
Remember to let me know how much it is.
Thanks,
and
you take care now
.
I’ll call you when I get back to New York.
Tell everybody I said hey.”

“All right, darlin’.
And you look around on that cruise ship.
It’s pretty big, and I bet
you can find a
nice m
a
n
if you try
.”

“I will, M
a
mma, thanks again.
Sorry I woke you up.
Bye now.”

I hung up the receiver and leaned against the wall, thinking.

Gladys Murphy was lying.

Why would Gladys Murphy make up that big old tale about her mother-in-law?
Of course, it was an
extreme and
amazing coincidence that I would have any connection to the
Murphys or her
story, or even remember those names unless you consider the strength and extent of the kudzu-like connections that grow all over the South, binding the people and families of each small town to all the others.

Anonymity doesn’t exist in Dixie
, where
everyone minds everyone else’s busines
s.
Perfect strangers ask you personal questions about the most intimate details of your life
. N
o one
consider
s
such behavior to be nosy, but instead sort of noble,
a
n expression of friendliness and
concern,
a
kind and
charitable duty.
We keep up with each other.
We care.

After several interminable meals with the Murphys, I had heard more than I ever wanted to know about their family.

My attention had, of course, wandered quite a bit during those long meals, but the one thing that
had
stuck with me was the impression that both the Murphys’ parents were dead, and that their only family was Muriel and a
nother
daughter named Finkelstein, Harriet Finkelstein.

Harriet Finkelstein, according to Gladys, had once lived in Mississippi,
actually
in my hometown.
That’s
a
pretty amazing
coincidence
, when you consider the population of my little burg
, but it happened.

Knowing that Gladys, shall we say, tends toward exaggeration, I had pretty much dismissed
her narrative until
I remembered my mother’s old Pyrex story, and the names clicked in my brain.
My phone call home has just confirmed Gladys’ tale that Harriet Finkelstein and her husband really had lived way down in Dixie, but it also proved that Mother Murphy had cashed in her chips long, long ago.

W
hy would Gladys make up
a story about her mother-in-law and Dr. Sledge’s brother
?
Why tell something so far-fetched?
What was the point?

I
now
believed the fact of the Finkelsteins living in my town
because my phone call had confirmed that,
but t
he whole mother-in-law, Dr. Sledge’s brother
thing
was
just
a big, goofy lie.
Dr. Sledge m
ight
not even have a brother.
And Gladys had insisted to Gertrude that she had talked to her dead mother-in-law on the telephone.
Hello, heaven?
Is Mom there?

But why?
Why
tell that big tale
? Why go there at all?

It didn’t make sense.
Unless she thought it provided cover for
more than a passing acquaintance
with Dr. Sledge.

I hung out for a while,
hoping
to tell Sylvia goodbye, but she didn’t appear, and I decided not to waste anymore time waiting
on her
.

If
Sylvia
acted true to form
, her departure would be dramatic, and could take the better part of the day. She was probably
still
in the salon, putting one last haird
o on
Abe’s tab.