Dark Passage (2 page)

Ruth, our superannuated flower child who had never, to my knowledge, even set foot inside a beauty parlor, let alone dipped her toes into a pedi-spa, grunted.

‘With tea afterwards, and little sandwiches, or …' Georgina bounced in her seat, looking directly at me. ‘If we asked nicely, do you think Scott would spring for a weekend getaway package at Spa Paradiso?'

Although scenically (and expensively!) situated at the far end of Bay Ridge Drive on a bank overlooking the Chesapeake Bay, Spa Paradiso was only three short miles from my home on Prince George Street. ‘I mean
away
away,' I said.

‘The Inn at Perry Cabin?' Ruth suggested, naming a popular luxury hotel in St Michael's on Maryland's eastern shore.

I shook my head. ‘Further away than that.'

‘The Mirbeau Inn and Spa in upstate New York? How about the Golden Door in Colorado?' Ruth's encyclopedic knowledge of luxury spas didn't astonish me, since she had copies of
Feng Shui World
,
Aromatherapy Today
and
Tathaastu
scattered all over her coffee table at home. ‘Ten Thousand Waves in Santa Fe?' she continued.

Before she could whip out her iPhone and sign us up for some exotic hideaway in the Maldives where rooms start at $1400 per night, I raised a hand. ‘Just so you know, I draw the line at treatments for the extremely rich and insane, like being massaged by snakes or elephants. Or soaking in hot tubs full of red wine.'

Georgina giggled. ‘You're making that up!'

‘Am not. There's a spa in Alexandria where teeny, tiny carp nibble dead skin off your toes.'

‘Clearly, I lead a sheltered life,' Georgina whispered.

Several of Aunt Evelyn's friends wandered over to extend their condolences, so we squeezed hands, smiled and nodded as the orchestral strains of ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow' drifted out of the in-ceiling speaker directly over our heads. By the time our aunt's friends had moved on, the orchestra had segued into a piano and cello duet of ‘Red Sails in the Sunset.'

As if prompted by the tune, Ruth said, ‘How 'bout this? We could take a cruise. Didn't you and Paul have a fabulous time crossing the Atlantic on the
Queen Mary Two
?'

‘It was divine,' I agreed with a grin. ‘So classy. I should have packed my furs and brought along a pair of Irish wolfhounds with diamond-studded collars. And a man servant to walk them, of course.'

‘Must have been nice,' Georgina pouted. She leaned across my lap in order to catch Ruth's eye. ‘Scott and I aren't made of money, you know. And the twins are starting college in the fall.'

Ruth flapped a hand. ‘After that mess with the
Costa Concordia
, not to mention the economy, which is tanking big-time in case you hadn't noticed, cruise lines are practically
giving
cruises away.' She patted my knee. ‘Besides, we wouldn't be staying in the presidential suite, or whatever, like Hannah and Paul did.'

‘
Queen
Suite, you moron,' I teased, batting her hand away. ‘Paul and I had a plain vanilla stateroom with a balcony on the
Queen Mary
. Period. Nothing fancy.'

Ruth rolled her eyes. ‘So you say, but I saw the pictures.' She began rooting around in her handbag. When she thought none of the mourners was looking, she pulled her iPhone out and swiped it on. ‘Last week, one of my customers thought I looked frazzled and needed a break. We got talking about the Caribbean, so she forwarded an email about cheap cruises.' She tapped a few keys, then used her index finger to scroll quickly through the entries. ‘Ah, here it is. Cruise for cheap dot com.' She squinted at the tiny screen, used her thumb and index finger to enlarge the image. ‘Where do you want to go?'

I shrugged. ‘Who cares? If we're going to be bonding, the destination hardly matters. It's the voyage that counts.'

‘My vote goes to any place that takes U.S. dollars and they speak our language,' Georgina said.

‘Quite a few cruise liners are home-ported in Baltimore these days.' Ruth leaned forward, addressing Georgina. ‘The cruises listed here are incredibly cheap. Can you afford six hundred dollars?'

Georgina raised an eyebrow. ‘Probably, but I'll have to discuss it with Scott first.'

‘We'll all have to do that,' Ruth said. ‘Husbands!'

‘What about husbands?' While we had been plotting our getaway, Daddy had crept up on us.

Ruth blushed and dropped her iPhone back into the cavernous depths of her quilted handbag. ‘Nothing!'

‘Good. I'm relieved. I thought you were going to give me another pep talk about Neelie.'

Cornelia – nicknamed Neelie – was my widowed father's longtime companion. The Alexander girls – my sisters and I – thoroughly approved of Cornelia Gibbs and couldn't imagine why our father hadn't popped the question. It had been more than a decade since our mother died, but we knew from experience that there was little to be gained by pushing the man. There's not much you can tell a retired navy captain. They're accustomed to being in charge.

As if to prove my point, Daddy tapped his watch. ‘Visiting hours are over, duty's done, and I'm starving. How about you?'

I glanced around the parlor, surprised to find it empty except for the four of us and the funeral home director, standing discreetly near the heavy oak door, hands folded, looking somber. And poor Aunt Evelyn, of course, whose last meal before her fatal heart attack had been a chicken cordon bleu served up on a white plate with gold trim in the Riverview's posh dining room, accompanied by a glass of fairly decent Chardonnay. In the shuffling off this mortal coil department, I figured that was a fine way to go.

There would be no funeral service for our aunt. She was to be cremated, as per her request, and eventually – when Arlington National Cemetery slotted it into their way-too-busy calendar – she would be buried there with her husband, Captain Frederick T. Alexander, U.S. Army, in Section 35.

‘I feel almost guilty about going out for
moule frites
while she's …' I nodded toward the coffin. ‘… well, you know.' I stood up and kissed my father on a cheek – warm, slightly damp and rough with stubble. ‘You look exhausted.'

‘I am.' He scrubbed a hand over his steel-gray curls as if trying to wake himself up, starting by stimulating his scalp. ‘I'm glad we booked into a hotel tonight, rather than trying to drive back.' He linked one arm through mine and the other through Georgina's, then cocked his head in Ruth's direction. ‘C'mon, Ruth. There's a bouillabaisse at the Parc with my name on it.'

It took only ten minutes to stroll from the funeral home back to our hotel at the corner of Locust and Eighteenth, directly across from Rittenhouse Square where bicycles were chained by twos and threes at intervals along the iron fencing. The evening was balmy, and the sidewalk outside the Parc Brasserie was crowded with couples dining elbow-to-elbow with their neighbors, seated on cane chairs at small round tables under burgundy-colored awnings that were so relentlessly French that even the
numéro de téléphone
was printed French-style – 21 55 45 22 62 – on the awning.

As the hostess escorted us inside the restaurant to a table for four, not far from the enormous zinc-surfaced bar where a variety of Belgian beer seemed to be on tap, Daddy said, ‘I can't tell you how much I appreciate your support.'

‘Are you kidding?' From her chair, Ruth reached up and curiously fingered the white lace curtain that hung from a brass rail over her shoulder as if she were considering whether to buy it. ‘It's no secret that Aunt Evelyn and I weren't particularly close, but she was family, after all. I owe her something for that.'

‘Ruth's lying to you, Daddy. She came to Philadelphia because of the molten chocolate cake with raspberry sauce you promised her.' I picked up the oversized menu, encased in plastic, turned to the back and scanned the desserts. ‘As for me, I work cheap. After the
moule frites
, it's
crème brûlée pour moi, s'il vous plaît.
'

Two hours later, after desserts, cappuccinos and deeply warming glasses of Monbazillac, Daddy picked up the check and we wandered up to our rooms on the tenth floor. Daddy called it an early night, gave us each a hug, then disappeared into his own room just down the hall.

Georgina had to scan the key card three times before the light blinked green and the door decided to open but, once inside, she immediately kicked off her shoes and sprawled, spreadeagle, on the gray-green velvet sofa of the two-room suite the three of us were sharing. ‘So, what about that cruise we were talking about?'

‘Am I not allowed to catch my breath?' I dropped my handbag on the floor and crossed to the mahogany desk where I'd left my laptop. I flipped it open and powered it on. A few minutes later I was hunched over the screen, clicking around the website Ruth's customer had recommended. ‘Do we want to sail out of New York or Baltimore?'

‘Baltimore,' Georgina said without hesitation. ‘Getting ourselves up to New York and back would add a couple of hundred dollars to the cost.'

‘Right,' I said as I clicked on ‘Baltimore' and waited for the screen to refresh. ‘And I understand that parking is dirt cheap at the Baltimore Cruise Terminal, not to mention convenient.'

‘How many days do you think we can afford to be away?' I asked a few moments later while scrolling down through a long listing of ships and sailing dates. ‘Here's a five-day cruise to Bermuda and back, seven days to the eastern Caribbean. Here's one for nine days, twelve …'

‘Five hardly seems worth the effort.' Ruth extracted a Diet Coke from the minibar in the vestibule near the door and pulled up the tab
.
‘I'll have to check with my assistant, but if she can put in a few extra hours, I should be able to clear seven days, or even nine. Lord, I haven't had a proper vacation since Hutch and I went on our honeymoon. Georgina?'

Georgina shrugged. ‘Depends on the dates.'

‘There's a nine-day cruise that leaves in three weeks for the Eastern Caribbean,' I said. ‘San Juan, St Thomas, Dominican Republic, Haiti …'

‘Who on earth would want to go to Haiti?' Georgina grumped.

‘Can we afford twelve days, maybe?' I asked. ‘Here's another one to San Juan, setting off on the twelfth of June, calling at St Thomas, St Maarten, Antiqua and Tortola, then back.'

‘Sounds divine, but no way I could talk Scott into covering for me at home for twelve whole days,' Georgina said. ‘Seven, maybe. Ten, max. He
hates
to cook.'

I turned around in my chair and grinned. ‘That's why God invented McDonalds, Georgina.'

She laughed.

I turned back to the laptop and leaned close to the screen. ‘Looks like June is the window of opportunity, then.' I swiveled in the chair to face my sisters. ‘Are we all clear, date-wise, for sometime mid-June?'

I could hardly believe it when both women nodded.

‘OK. Why don't we each go home, discuss the plan with our husbands and decide how much money we're willing to spend. For planning purposes, the fares they're quoting here work out to about a hundred dollars a day, but that includes food practically twenty-four/seven and everything except the booze, so to my way of thinking it's quite a bargain.'

‘Gosh,' said Georgina. ‘You can hardly stay at a Holiday Inn for a hundred dollars a day, and all you get for breakfast is a donut and a cup of weak coffee with powdered cream.'

‘I'll talk to Paul, then tomorrow night I'll set up a conference call and we can finalize things.' I flapped a hand at the laptop where photos of cruise ships, quaint colonial ports, pink sand beaches and palm trees had begun to slide and fade across the screen. ‘If we're going to do this, we should probably hurry, or the slots might be gone.'

Ruth drained her Coke and set the empty can down on the end table. ‘You don't need to call me about dates, Hannah. Hutch has been working on a big libel case so I hardly see him anyway. Even if they settle, there's no way he'll wrap that up by June, so whatever dates you two decide on is fine with me.'

‘Will we share a cabin, like we're doing here?' Georgina asked.

I thought about the cabin that Paul and I had booked on the
Queen Mary Two
– twin beds squished together made up as a queen, with a pull-out sofa. Three people sharing would have been a tight squeeze. I was all for sisterly bonding, but crawling over a sibling in the middle of the night in order to go to the bathroom was taking sisterhood a bit too far. ‘We'll definitely need two cabins,' I said. ‘The rates are based on double occupancy, but we could …'

‘I'll take the single,' Ruth interrupted. ‘No worries there.'

I could have hugged her. I'd shared sleeping arrangements with Ruth before and, not to put too fine a point on it, the woman
snored
. ‘Well, it's decided, then!' I snapped my laptop shut and sprang to my feet. ‘C'mon, Georgina,' I said from the door that led into the adjoining bedroom. ‘If we're going to be roomies, we better start practicing. You and I get the king. Ruth, the sofa is all yours!'

‘There are approximately 200 overnight ocean-going cruise vessels worldwide. The average ocean-going cruise vessel carries 2,000 passengers with a crew of 950 people. In 2007 alone, approximately 12,000,000 passengers were projected to take a cruise worldwide.'

Cruise Vessel Safety & Security
Act of 2010 (H.R. 3660)

P
aul slotted a platter into the dishwasher. ‘I think that's a terrific idea.'

‘You do?' I hadn't expected Paul to
disapprove
of our plan, but I wasn't expecting him to stand up and cheer for it, either. The man was practically waving pompoms.

Paul reached out a soapy hand and tapped the tip of my nose. ‘I'll miss you terribly, of course, but what a wonderful opportunity, especially for Georgina. That girl doesn't get out enough, in my humble opinion.'