Bon Bon Voyage (2 page)

The message was pasted onto the first page with cutout newspaper letters and words, like a ransom note in a movie.

Isn't that sweet
? I thought, my eyes misting. But why were they wishing me a happy Mother's Day in April? The event occurred in May. I scowled, remembering when Gwen had left school and flown off to meet me in Barcelona without my permission. They were up to something. That was clear.

I flipped to the second page and began to read.

Marveling at the ingenuity and thoughtfulness of my children, I looked over the pamphlets. The cruise looked absolutely wonderful—pretty bedrooms, small but nice bathrooms (one even had a tub), balconies, gorgeous public areas, a well-stocked library, and a computer room with Internet access (Jason would like that, and it would be convenient for me, too. I could send columns from the ship). The pictures of the dining room and the sample menus excited all my culinary taste buds. There was even a warm letter from the cruise company saying that they sincerely hoped I would accept their offer because they were very proud of their gourmet chef and his wonderful cuisine on the
Bountiful Feast.

Next I looked at the itinerary. Lisbon, Gibraltar, Tangier, Casablanca, Gran Canaria, Tenerife, and a delightful assortment of Spanish ports on the way back to Barcelona—all kinds of lovely places to which I'd never been, except for Barcelona. Perhaps we could go early and spend some time in Lisbon, although, of course, we'd have to pay for that. But since the cruise itself was free, we could certainly afford to enjoy a stay in Lisbon.

The only problem I anticipated was the time constriction. April was drawing to a close, May almost upon me, and the cruise began in May,
before
Mother's Day. How would I ever finish the research I like to do for a trip? The history of so many cities. Places so diverse. And the culinary reading. I hated the idea of going on a wonderful trip quite unprepared. Not that I'd consider missing such an opportunity. The ship did have a library. And a computer room. The Internet would probably be a source of information, although time spent on the Internet would be time taken away from the adventures of the cruise. Oh, well, I'd worry about it later.

I picked up the telephone I'd brought out to the patio and speed-dialed Jason at the university. “You'll never guess what our wonderful children have given us for Mother's Day and Father's Day,” I said, and went on to describe, with great enthusiasm, our virtually free vacation.

There was a moment of silence at Jason's end of the line, and then he said, “I can't go.”

I was stunned. How could my husband even think of turning down such an opportunity? A
free
opportunity! Jason is so thrifty. Surely, he was teasing. “Of course you can,” I retorted. “How could you not?”

“I have a meeting,” he replied calmly.

“Well, surely you can skip one meeting, Jason.” I fought down my disappointment with a dash of irritation. “When you have to go to a meeting, I don't tell you I have something else to do.”

“You usually don't have anything else to do, Carolyn,” he replied. “And I really can't skip this conference. I'm an invited speaker, and I'm responsible for one of the tracks.”

“I haven't heard anything about a meeting,” I muttered.

“Well, it's in Canada, out in the middle of the plains. It didn't occur to me that you'd be interested since it's probably not a place famed for its gourmet food. There aren't even any activities for accompanying persons.”

“And you'd rather go there than on a wonderful cruise? What are the meeting dates?”

Jason told me and remarked that although he'd be free after the meeting, we couldn't very well try to catch the cruise out in the Atlantic Ocean, which was probably where the ship would be, coming or going from the Canary Islands.

“Fine,” I said. “I'll have to go by myself.”

There was another silence. Then Jason said, “I wish you wouldn't, Carolyn. Some of those places are in North Africa. Given the tumult in the Islamic world, I'd be worried about you all the time you were gone.”

“Well, I'll be worried that you might get run over by a tractor out there on the great plains of Canada. We'll both just have to hope for the best.”

And that was the way it ended. Jason would not go, and he didn't want me to go by myself. He probably thought I'd stumble across another corpse, and he wouldn't be there to urge me to mind my own business. I was really very peeved with him.

2

I'd just returned from a visit to the rheumatologist, who gave me a repeat lecture on the stupidity of cutting back on my meds last fall. After that he said he was “very pleased” with my response to a new medication he'd prescribed. He would be! The self-satisfied prick. He didn't have to pay for the stuff. Pretty soon I'd need to go snag another scumbag criminal and turn him in for a reward to finance my frigging rheumatoid arthritis. I was just pouring some dog food into a bowl for Smack, a retired narc I took in when she was too old for service, when my phone rang.

Wouldn't you know? It was Carolyn Blue. Not that I don't like her. I'll never forget the time she slapped the hand of some jerk who decided to feel up one of the exotic dancers at Brazen Babes. Caro just hauled off and gave him a good whack right in the middle of a table dance. Still, I wasn't really in the mood for any girl talk at the moment. I'd been planning to sit down in my one comfortable chair and enjoy a shot of tequila, except the doctor had lectured me about drinking, too. I never should have told him that tequila was a better painkiller than any damn anti-inflammatory on the market.

“Yeah, Carolyn, hi. Listen, could we talk some other time? I just got in from—”

Whatever she had to say couldn't wait. In fact, she sounded so excited I'm not even sure she heard me. She went right on telling me about some cruise around Europe that she had free tickets for.

“Sounds great,” I agreed, sitting down on a chair in my kitchen while Smack swallowed about a half-pound of dog food and then gave me a hopeful look. Right. Like I was going to let her get fat in her old age. Carolyn had just listed a bunch of places where the boat stopped. Most of them I'd never heard of. “Hey, you're gonna have a great time,” I assured her, “but maybe you could tell me about it when you get back.” I managed to get that in before she could describe every single detail about the room or cabin or whatever it was she'd be staying in.

“Not just me. Both of us,” she corrected. “They've got a spa and a gym and fascinating shore excursions, and the food is supposed to be absolutely—”

“What's this
both of us
business?” I interrupted. “I couldn't afford to go on a cruise if I wanted to, which I don't.” Smack came over and licked my hand, so I gave her an ear scratch while Carolyn told me that it wouldn't cost us a penny. The whole thing was complimentary, except for the airfare, because the cruise company wanted her to write columns about their fancy food. Jason couldn't go because he had a meeting, and he didn't want Carolyn to go alone because he was a weenie—she giggled at that—and was afraid of Muslim countries and stuff.

“Muslim, like terrorists?” I asked.

“Of course not!” Carolyn exclaimed. “These countries are in North Africa, and if anything dangerous happens, the State Department tells Americans not to go there, and the cruise company sends us to some other port. Don't you want to see Gibraltar? And the Spanish ports? And the Canary Islands? They're supposed to be so beautiful.”

“Yeah, and what does the airplane cost?” I asked sarcastically. “You know all my money goes for meds.”

“Surely you have some left from when we kidnapped that disgusting man in Juárez,” she said. “After all, I gave you my half.”

Oh, shit! She
had
given me her half, and actually I did have a lot of that money left, but I didn't want to spend it on some frigging cruise. When I told her it would be too expensive, she said Jason could pay for my ticket since he was being so mean about not going with her. “He'll be glad to,” Carolyn declared. “Think of how much safer he'll feel if you're with me.”

I doubted that. The first and last time I saw Jason Blue, Carolyn and I were half snockered on sangria, laughing and making toasts on her patio. He hadn't seemed that glad to meet me. Since then Carolyn and I met from time to time for lunch, but I finally had to take over picking the restaurants. She was into these cutesy places full of middle-aged, dressed-up women and food that had fancy sauce splashed on everything. I introduced her to some really great hole-in-the-wall Tex-Mex places where cops and workmen go to grab a bite. I even got her to try
menudo
, which is tripe soup, the local cure for hangovers. I have to admit she's game when it comes to food. Everything she puts in her mouth is something she might write about in a column. She's always asking some poor Spanish-only
abuelita
for a recipe, and I have to translate. Of course the places I like, they don't have recipes. They make stuff like their mamas did—a little of this, a little of that, and a hell of a lot of jalapeños.

All the time I was thinking about some of our weird lunch excursions, Carolyn was trying to convince me that I really did want to go on this cruise with her. “Why would I want to go on a frigging cruise?” I finally interrupted. “My knees would freeze up from sitting too long on the airplane, I wouldn't know the languages anywhere we got off, I'd hate all the snobbish passengers, I don't have any evening gowns to wear to the gourmet dinners, which I wouldn't like anyway, and I'd probably get seasick and spend the whole time barfing on their fancy carpets.”

Carolyn said, “Nonsense.”

“It's not like El Paso's really a seafaring section of the country,” I put in before she could tell me why my reasons for not going were nonsense. “My only experience on a boat was a trip to Elephant Butte, where we fished off the side of a row-boat with a put-put motor on the back. And someone drowned while we were up there. Think how many more people must drown in an ocean.” Smack had dozed off sprawled across my feet, and my knees were starting to hurt.

Carolyn snorted. “It just so happens that I cut out an article about exercises one can do in an airplane seat that prevent frozen knees, not to mention those blood clots that scoot up to your brain or lungs and kill you.”

“Blood clots?” That didn't sound good. “All the more reason for me—”

“And at all the ports except those in North Africa, people speak Spanish, even the Canary Islands, which are owned by Spain. Well, on Gibraltar they speak English because—”

“I can see that if I went, you'd want to tell me the history of every damn place the boat stopped.”

“The guides will do that, and at the Spanish ports you can translate for
me
,” Carolyn retorted. “I might even learn some Spanish if you'd take the trouble to teach me. I thought we were friends. I don't see why—”

“Look, I don't have a long dress, and I'm not going to buy one, so that's that.”

“Luz, you don't have to. Just get a long skirt if you don't have one. You can find one for ten dollars at Ross. Then you pair it with different tops and some jewelry, and you're good to go. I know you've got some great jewelry. The night we went over to Juárez, I saw your grandmother's turquoise.”

“My grandmother's turquoise isn't going to keep me from barfing up all the rich food I'd have to eat,” I muttered.