Bon Bon Voyage (3 page)

“The cruise lines provide seasick pills,” said Carolyn, “and I won't let you fall off the ship and drown.”

So that's how it went, and guess who ended up getting talked into taking a cruise? I had to agree. Otherwise, Carolyn would have gone on and on about the history of the Canary Islands. My only consolation was that it would be my first and last cruise. And it wasn't going to cost me much. Not likely I'd get another offer for a free vacation. But my mom wasn't going to be happy when I missed Mother's Day because I was thousands of miles away, wandering around some country with a bunch of Arabs in it.

Well, if those terrorists tried anything with Carolyn and me, I wouldn't mind kicking ass. A cousin of mine got about a pound of shrapnel in his leg over there in the Middle East. Poor Jaime's still limping, and he was a hell of a halfback on the Bowie football team before he joined the army.

3

I was in such a good mood after talking Luz into going with me that I decided to forgive Jason for ruining the children's plans and my Mother's Day gift. I'd make him something nice for dinner. Maybe lamb chops and twice-baked potatoes with both cheese and onions. And asparagus. I'd bought some lovely, thick asparagus at the market. I might even make hollandaise sauce to go on the asparagus. And I'd open a bottle of that French wine he liked, Carolus Magnus. I liked it myself. Who could resist a wine named after Charlemagne? Then, once I had him softened up, I'd tell him he didn't have to worry about me traveling alone to exotic foreign ports because Luz Vallejo had agreed to go with me. She was an ex-police lieutenant and a very tough woman, probably better protection than Jason, not that I'd mention that.

I wondered what we'd do about Smack, Luz's aging, retired police dog. I'd have to ask the cruise people if we could bring the dog along. No, that was a bad idea. What would we do with her on the plane? I certainly had no intention of buying a ticket for Smack and sitting with her all the way to Lisbon. And they probably wouldn't let Smack into foreign countries or on the boat. Luz would have to leave the dog with one of her sisters, but their children would love it. No one could say Smack wasn't well behaved. She spent most of her time napping and only got mean with people who were carrying drugs or irritating Luz.

It occurred to me that Luz and I should go shopping together. That would be fun, and it would soothe her worries about not having the right evening wear. How many dinners would be formal? I wondered. I might well have to buy myself something new.

While making all these happy plans, I began the dinner, potatoes first. As they were baking, I chopped the onions, grated the cheese, and seasoned the lamb chops. I even pared the asparagus stalks, not something I always bother to do. Usually I just break the ends off so the non-tip part will be reasonably tender. By the time Jason arrived at six, I had a relatively simple but very tasty dinner to serve him. I'd decided to skip the hollandaise sauce. Instead I put the asparagus under the broiler with pepper, butter, and cheese.

My dear husband arrived smiling cheerfully. He can smell a good dinner before he's even opened the door. When he looked at his plate, he beamed. Jason loves lamb chops. Who wouldn't? All that cholesterol! They're bound to be delicious. But we'd worry about cholesterol when we got into our fifties. For now . . .

“This looks wonderful,” said Jason. He dropped a kiss on my cheek, pulled out my chair, and poured wine for me and then for himself. My, he is a handsome man, and so endearing when he's not lecturing me. I have to admit that the sight of Jason in an appreciative mood still, after twenty-odd years of marriage, causes my heart to do a little flip.

“Does the dinner mean you've forgiven me for having a meeting when you want to go on a cruise?” Jason asked.

Before I could assure him that I'd forgiven him, he added, “I was just worried about you going by yourself. Especially on Mother's Day.”

“Oh, well, I—”

“But I've solved the problem.” He looked so pleased with himself as he cut off a bite of his first lamb chop. Those delicious little rib chops only have about three bites on them. I always pan fry four chops for Jason and two or three for myself. “I called Mother this afternoon,” he said, taking a sip of wine to complement the lamb.

“Oh?” I murmured, bemused. “How is she?” My mother-in-law, who is seventy-four, had a mild heart attack during the semester break. Her doctor advised her to stop teaching and rabble rousing for six months and take it easy, except for a planned exercise program at a senior citizens' gym. She was probably bored to tears and appallingly cranky.

“Fine,” said Jason. “Good to go, according to her doctor. She talked to him and called me back with the news.”

“That's wonderful. So she'll be teaching again in the fall?”

“Well, yes, that too. What I meant is that she can go on the cruise with you.”

“What?”
He couldn't have said that. He couldn't have suggested that to her without telling me. Imagine sharing a suite with Gwenivere Blue for the duration of the cruise! For years she's never had a kind word to say to me. She thought I was a disgrace to the feminist movement, of which I'd never been a part, so her complaint was hardly fair. Then last year she'd sent me a size 16 dress. I wear a 10, and it was a frumpy dress, evidently her idea of appropriate clothing for a woman who spent most of her adult life taking care of a husband and children.

“For heaven's sake, Caro, what's that expression supposed to mean? Don't tell me you don't want to take my mother along with you.”

“Well, I—”

“Mother can be very good company if she wants to.”

But would she want to? And why was Jason being such a hypocrite? It's not as if he got along that well with her. He even complained if I expressed any opinion that sounded as if she might have put it into my head.

“And now that you and she—”

“What?” I demanded. “Vera and I what?”

“She invited you to call her Vera. That's certainly progress.”

“That's because I asked her, when she was in jail, if she wanted me to call her Mother Blue.”

“You didn't!” Jason started to laugh.

“This isn't funny, Jason. The only time that I can remember your mother being half civil to me was at that women's center party in San Francisco. Ten minutes of civility does not constitute a close relationship. She was probably just happy to be cleared of the murder charges and out of jail.”

“And you cleared her,” Jason pointed out.

I tried not to glare at him. He hadn't been all that happy about my running around San Francisco, trying to find the real murderer. Not when it was happening.

“I'm sure she's still grateful,” said my husband.

I took a big gulp of wine, but it didn't help, so I dropped my head into my hands and wondered what I was going to do. Luz had already agreed to the trip. “Don't you think you should have told me before you invited her on
my
Mother's Day cruise?”

“It didn't occur to me that you'd object,” said Jason stiffly. “I thought you'd appreciate the company, and after all, she
has
had health problems. A cruise will be just the thing for her. Her doctor agreed. She can take walks around the decks and that sort of thing. She hates the gym so much, she quit.”

So if I continued to object, I would be endangering Vera's health? That's what my husband was saying? And what about Luz? I really
wanted
to take the cruise with Luz. If the other passengers were snobbish, Luz would be the perfect antidote. And her reaction to cruise luxury and entertainment would be a source of entertainment in itself. Whereas Vera would probably try to talk the female crew into going on strike or wonder loudly why cruise captains were never women and organize a gender-discrimination campaign against the cruise line.

My mother-in-law caused all sorts of trouble in the women's section of the San Francisco jail before I found the real murderer and got her released. Feminism and female convicts, not to mention female guards, were not all that compatible. When I'd gone to visit her on family visiting day, something her
son
hadn't found time for, Vera had infuriated people on both sides of the glass visiting window and couldn't be bothered to give me information that might have made my familial duty to exonerate her easier.

“If you don't want to take her with you, you'll have to call and tell her yourself,” said Jason, looking grim as he forked creamy, oniony potatoes au gratin from the crispy potato skin I'd put on his plate.

Wasn't that just like a man? He got me into an embarrassing, hopeless situation and then refused to accept responsibility for his actions. And what was
I
to do? Refuse to take his mother along because of my invitation to Luz, whom he didn't even like? Choose one of my prospective roommates to disinvite? That's obviously what I had to do.

Or did I
?

4

When our plane landed at the Lisbon airport, it was a beautiful May day, sun shining, with puffy, cotton-candy clouds bouncing across a baby blue sky. By contrast, we were bedraggled, exhausted, and cranky. A limping, cursing Luz had planted her cane on the toe of a man who made the serious mistake of trying to get in front of her in the passport line.

He, in turn, demanded that the handsomely uniformed Portuguese immigration officer arrest Luz for assault. I attempted to defuse the situation by telling the officer that any man who shoved a woman with a cane was no gentleman. Then Luz said something in Spanish, and the two got into a conversation characterized by smiling, misunderstanding, laughter, and even possibly flirting. I couldn't be sure because I didn't know what they were saying.

She introduced me to the officer, who raised our hands to his lips, but without actually kissing our fingers. I could hardly blame him for that. I, for one, felt absolutely grimy, although before landing, I had scrubbed my face and fingers with one of those smelly hand wipes the airline provides with breakfast.

The fuming American with the sore foot was marched away by another officer, who had been summoned to the booth by Luz's new friend. What did they mean to do to him? Give him a lesson in gentlemanly behavior? Subject his person and his luggage to an embarrassing search? Behind us in the line, people were complaining about the delay. Not a promising start to our vacation.

The cruise lines may consider the overnight flight from the United States part of the total vacation experience, but I certainly didn't. A very large man in front of us on the airplane had tilted his seat back into Luz's face. Then his girlfriend threw herself into his lap, setting both seats to shuddering and knocking my book onto the floor while jamming Luz's left knee. That was the beginning of a very bad night.

“I don't know why I let you talk me into this,” she muttered for the millionth time as, with hundreds of other sleep-deprived tourists, we waited at the carousel for our luggage.

“If we can just get to the ship, we can fall straight into real beds and have long naps,” I promised. “By the time we wake up, we'll be at sea and ready for a memorable meal.”

“I thought international flights were supposed to have good food,” she groused. “That stuff was pig swill.”

“I told you to order the beef. It's always safer to avoid the rubbery chicken and even the overcooked pasta unless you're in business or first class. Anyway, the food on the ship will be heavenly.”

She grunted, hooked her cane through the handle of her suitcase—she'd only brought one, and it wasn't that big— and hauled it off the carousel, sending three or four people to either side of us stumbling into other people in order to escape Luz's flying luggage. When mine came along, I leaned forward and grasped the handle, only to be dragged along by the weight of my bag. A nice gentleman pulled both the suitcase and me to safety and murmured,
“Da nada, señora,”
when I thanked him profusely. Then we wheeled our luggage into a cavernous room full of people arriving, people leaving, people waiting, and people standing in line. I felt like weeping when I saw the crowd. How were we ever to find the cruise representative in this mass of humanity?

While I was ready to give up, Luz looked around and spotted a smiling lady wearing a smart periwinkle uniform and holding a sign that said, ALL ABOARD THE
BOUNTIFUL FEAST.
Much relieved, we trundled our bags toward her. I had my huge suitcase and my carry-on, which contained my laptop and other important possessions I'd never pack into a suitcase from which some sticky-fingered Homeland Security person could filch appealing items. Luz was festooned with her handbag, a small wheeled suitcase, and her cane, which I fervently hoped didn't contain that pop-out knife she'd used in Juárez to terrify a criminal. What an adventure that had been!

We identified ourselves to the cruise representative, who had the most luscious, gleaming black hair I'd ever seen and more curves that one usually expects to see on a woman in uniform. She also had a three-part name, which I immediately forgot, and made an amazing show of delight over our arrival, as if we were long-lost sisters or childhood friends she had been pining to see for years. Her delight ratcheted up several notches when she checked for our names on her list and discovered that we were to be in the owner's suite. By this time Luz was scowling ferociously.

“Ladies,” exclaimed our greeter, “a representative of the line will be with us momentarily to escort you to the van, which will take you to the harbor where our beautiful ship, the
Bountiful Feast,
awaits you.”