“I’d like to see that,” Charlie said, waggling his eyebrows.
“Don’t let me have dessert tonight,” she told him.
“It’s all traditional German food. You don’t want to start dieting now,” he told her.
Once they got to the dining room Catherine couldn’t help but agree. The aromas that greeted her as she walked in were a gourmand’s delight. The tables gleamed with the usual glassware and silver, but had been laid with festive blue-checked tablecloths, baskets of giant pretzels on each one. Their servers were all dressed in traditional German dirndls and lederhosen, and a couple with an accordion and violin, also dressed in traditional Bavarian garb, were already strolling among the tables, serenading diners.
“This is a feast,” Catherine said to Rudy as they filed past the main-course station, which offered them everything from schnitzel to bratwurst and German potato salad, warm and spicy with vinegar, onions and bacon.
“The perfect ending to a perfect day,” he said.
“The whole cruise has been perfect. I’m so glad Denise talked me into coming.”
“I am, too.”
Her heart turned over at the way he looked at her. She had to tell him what lay ahead for her.
Tomorrow. She didn’t want to think about it tonight.
At her sister’s urging, Sophie had left to sit with Trevor at another table, which left room for Charlie to squeeze in at theirs. Arnold had to settle for sitting at the next one over. As it was a group of women traveling together, he didn’t seem to be suffering too much, obviously enjoying talking with a busty middle-aged blonde in a sequined red top. Meanwhile, Charlie was in an especially chipper mood, cracking jokes and slipping a possessive arm over the back of Denise’s chair. Denise certainly didn’t seem to mind, not the way she was smiling at him. Sierra was actually managing to smile a little, too, which Catherine hoped meant she had set aside her worries for the moment.
Even Athena looked happy. She had a lovely smile. In fact, she was a nice-looking woman. It was too bad she hadn’t met someone on the cruise.
Catherine said as much to Denise when they went to the dessert table, to choose from the various cakes on display.
“Maybe she would have if she hadn’t been so busy guarding her father,” Denise said. “For a while there I was wondering if the poor guy was even going to be able to go to the men’s room by himself.”
“I can understand her wanting to protect him.”
Denise shook her head. “Kids should keep their noses out of their parents’ love lives.”
“I think it’s kind of sweet that she cares enough to watch out for him.”
“There’s caring and then there’s smothering,” Denise said.
Catherine thought of her own children. No one would accuse either of them of smothering, that was for sure. She hadn’t expected to hear from her son but she had thought maybe she’d at least get a text from Lila. Out of sight, out of mind. She almost felt jealous of Rudy with his overprotective daughter.
After dinner everyone made their way to the lounge for the evening’s festivities. Kurt managed to escape his students and joined Catherine’s group, a glass of beer in hand. Charlie ordered champagne for everyone, but Catherine was too stuffed from dinner, and opted for nursing a club soda. Sierra, she noticed, had gone through several desserts at dinner and quite a bit of wine, and was now digging into the bag of chocolate truffles Trevor had brought to share.
Her good spirits seemed forced, and she was inhaling chocolate like it was a drug. Catherine wondered if she’d gotten another text from her husband.
When Elsa arrived, took the mike and bubbled, “Who is ready for a game?” Sierra excused herself.
“Where are you going?” Sophie asked, her voice threaded with concern.
“To the room. I’m pooped. And I think I shouldn’t have had so much of that chocolate. I need an antacid.”
“I’ll go with you,” Sophie said, and started to get up.
Her sister gave her a gentle shove back into her seat. “I think I can manage to take an antacid by myself.”
“Are you sure?” Sophie asked.
“Yes, I’m sure, you goof. Have fun.”
Sophie watched her go and bit her lip.
“Maybe she needs a little time to herself,” Catherine said gently.
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea for her to be alone,” Sophie fretted.
“Sometimes you can feel more alone in a crowd of people than by yourself,” Catherine said. She’d heard that before, but never realized how true it was until she became a widow.
Sophie frowned. “Her husband is such a jerk.”
“But she’s got a good sister. Whatever lies ahead, she’ll have you to help her through it,” Catherine said.
“I hope I can. It doesn’t seem right that we’re all having fun and she’s so miserable.”
“It never does.”
Catherine remembered the first time she ventured out of the house after Bill’s memorial service. It hadn’t been much of an outing, just a trip to the supermarket for coffee and yogurt. Inside the store people were pushing carts up and down the aisle, chatting with each other and the clerks at the checkout stands. It had all felt so wrong. Someone had laughed and she’d wanted to shout, “Stop it, all of you!” For her it was the end of the world. For everyone else, business as usual.
Still, she’d survived somehow. She knew Sierra would, too.
“Your sister’s very lucky to have you,” she told Sophie.
“I’m not helping her very much.”
“I bet you’re helping her more than you realize. She knows you’re there for her and that you care. That’s huge. And I’m sure whenever she wants to talk you’re there to listen.”
“Sometimes listening doesn’t seem like much.”
Catherine remembered the times she wanted to reminisce about Bill and got only voice mail when she called her daughter. “It’s more than you realize.”
“Now,” Elsa was saying, “I have papers here with a list of popular songs. All my teams, send someone up to me to get one. Then I want you all to list in order what songs the most people will get up and dance to. I will be counting the dancers at each song, and the team who predicts correctly who will dance to what songs will win a prize from the bar.”
“Piece of cake,” Charlie assured them all.
The list of dances included many that Catherine was sure their younger group members had never heard of.
“‘Shout’?” asked Sophie, raising both eyebrows.
“That’s a great one,” said Charlie. “Otis Day and the Knights.” He began to sing, doing a rather impressive shimmy and stamping his feet, and Denise joined him.
Denise sure knew how to work a shimmy. It helped that she still had such a great figure, Catherine thought, just the teensiest bit jealous. Until she reminded herself that Denise worked hard to keep that figure. Catherine had once had a pretty nice figure herself, and she could again if she’d lay off the carbs.
“Sounds like a top dance number,” Trevor said.
“But so is this,” said Denise, pointing to “Stand by Me.” “One of the best slow dance songs ever written.”
One of the best songs ever written, period, if you asked Catherine. She loved the message of the lyrics. No need to be afraid during the dark times when someone was with you. She couldn’t help looking in Rudy’s direction. He was looking at her, as well, and the expression on his face made it clear that he liked what he saw. Oh, my. It was suddenly feeling warm here in the lounge.
“Every couple in the room will get on the dance floor for that,” Charlie was saying.
“‘Country Girl (Shake It for Me),’ I know that one,” Trevor said. He smiled at Sophie. “Will you get up and shake it to that?”
“Maybe,” she said, her cheeks turning pink
.
“‘Thriller,’ that should go somewhere near the top,” said Denise.
“I know what the number one song will be,” Catherine said.
“What?” asked Kurt.
“‘YMCA.’”
“Even I know that one,” Kurt said.
“The song that won’t die,” said Denise. “You’re right, Catherine, everybody will get up for it. Put it down as number one,” she said to Arnold, who had rejoined them and was acting as team secretary.
“How about the ‘Electric Boogie’ as number three?” Charlie suggested. “Everyone knows that.”
“I don’t,” Sophie said.
“You’ll pick it up,” Denise assured her. “It’s easy.”
“I think ‘Thriller’ will top it,” Kurt said. “That’s still a monster flash mob favorite at Halloween.”
“No pun intended?” Charlie said to him, and Kurt shook his head and groaned.
“Okay, ‘Thriller’ before the ‘Electric Boogie,’” Arnold said.
“And, guys,” Denise said to everyone, “we have to get up and dance on the dances we picked if we want to win.”
“I’m up for the slow dances,” Trevor said, and winked at Sophie.
“Me, too,” said Rudy, smiling at Catherine.
“We have to dance to all of them,” Denise said sternly.
“I don’t know about the fast ones,” Sophie fretted. “My ankle.”
“I think you’ll be fine. The swelling’s gone and you’re still wrapping it,” Trevor said easily.
Sophie turned to Rudy. “What do you think, Rudy?”
“I think you’ll be fine as long as you don’t get too carried away,” Rudy said.
“You just get up there and the rest of us will do the getting carried away,” Denise said to her. “Oh, put the ‘Chicken Dance’ as number two. Everyone will get up for that.”
“Denise’s theme song should go near the top,” said Charlie.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“‘Pretty Woman,’” he replied, and Denise actually blushed. “Everybody loves a pretty woman,” he added.
“They sure do,” said Arnold, not to be outdone in the flattery department. Although, after watching his behavior at dinner, Catherine suspected that Arnold had no problem liking more than one pretty woman at a time.
They finally had their list compiled and Charlie ordered more champagne for everyone to enjoy while they waited for the other teams to finish their lists.
“I’ll take another 7UP,” Sophie said to the server.
“On the wagon, huh?” Charlie cracked.
“Forever,” she said fervently.
Elsa announced it was time to begin and Jacques played a fast rock song that brought several people to the dance floor. Sophie started up but Denise reached over and pulled her back down. “That’s not on our list. We don’t want to swell the numbers.”
But they did all get up to swell the numbers when it came time for the “Electric Boogie,” Denise leading them all, teaching them the steps as they went. Plenty of other people joined them, as well, which had her chortling and claiming success as they returned to their seats.
Kurt was right about “Thriller,” which packed the dance floor pretty well, but nothing like the “Chicken Dance.” Catherine felt both silly and lighthearted as she bounced around the dance floor, hands tucked into her armpits, flapping her crooked arms like wings.
She felt sixteen, singing “YMCA” with everyone. So many people swarmed the dance floor for that song there was barely room to move, and being part of a crowd of happy people enjoying life was a tonic. She found herself in between Athena and Sophie, grinning and going through the motions for all she was worth. Then Jacques slowed down the music and began to play “Stand By Me” on the piano, and the next thing she knew she was in Rudy’s arms, smiling up at him.
“I could dance like this all night,” she said.
“Could you?”
“Oh, yes.”
“And how about tomorrow night?”
He drew her a little closer. He was comfortingly warm and solid. Funny how a woman could feel young again, dancing with a handsome man.
“I think so,” she said.
“And after that?”
“We’ll be getting off the ship.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t go out dancing.”
“Didn’t you say you lived in California? Washington is a ways to go to find a dance floor.”
“Not so far to come to find a sweet woman.”
They were wandering into territory they shouldn’t. She needed to keep things light in fairness to him. Shipboard romances never went anywhere, anyway. Once they were back in their respective homes the enthusiasm would burn down into nothing but a warm memory. And that was how it had to be.
She merely smiled.
She kept smiling when, later, her team won the game and was awarded a bottle of champagne to share. More champagne? Why not? She sipped hers and let the bubbles dance on her tongue.
* * *
People stayed on after the game was over and the enthusiastic Elsa had departed. Jacques continued to play at the piano.
Sophie was one of the ones who stayed but she felt guilty over it. What a subpar sister she was, enjoying herself when Sierra was now so miserable.
Sierra had enjoyed the cruise in fits and starts. Mostly, though, it was a bust. It was so unfair. This should have been a dream trip for her.
Maybe she and Mark could work out their differences. Maybe he’d find a way to make up for the hurt he was causing her.
Or maybe not, because, really, it was always all about Mark.
Always had been, probably. It was just that nobody had noticed it at first. Sierra had been besotted and Sophie had been happy for her. He’d seemed like such a nice guy—polite to the parents, friendly with the sis, said all the right things. He’d been the image of near perfection. Until the selfishness began to float to the surface.
Images. You couldn’t trust them.
Which just went to show you that you had to be careful when picking someone to spend your life with. That seemingly perfect someone could turn out to be a waste of good love.
What about Trevor? Would he be a good investment or a waste? So far he sure looked like a good investment.
He pointed to Sophie’s red top when Jacques started playing “Lady in Red” and said, “They’re playing your song. How’s your ankle holding up? Want to dance?”
Guilt or no guilt she had to say yes. Happily, her ankle was in total agreement.
“This is a great nightclub two-step,” he said. “Know how to do it?”
“You can nightclub?” she asked eagerly. A past boyfriend had taught her how and she’d loved the dance. She’d thought she loved him, too, until he dumped her.
Trevor grinned and took her hand. “Come on.”
He was smooth on the dance floor and, dancing with him, Sophie felt like a star. Good dancer, good kisser, good-looking, good-natured—he sure seemed to be the whole package.
“Ooh, that was fabulous,” she said when the dance ended.
“I’d say we make a pretty good dance team. Wouldn’t you?”
Yes, they did. She soon discovered he not only knew how to nightclub two-step, he was also a rock star swing dancer and a good teacher, showing her steps and then helping her through moves and making her look pretty darned good herself.
“Where’d you learn to dance like that?” she asked as they paused for a drink. (Beer for him but cola for her.)
“Took a class in college. My stepdad used to say the guy who can dance goes home with the girl.”
“You’d have been able to get girls if you had two left feet,” she said.
“Maybe, but dancing is a guaranteed girl magnet. Kind of like having a dog.�
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Crudballs. “Do you have a dog?”
“No, but I’ve thought about getting one at some point.” His smile fell away. “Please don’t tell me you hate dogs.”
How much did she want to tell him? “I was allergic as a kid.”
“That had to suck.”
Not as much as not being able to breathe.
“Did you have any pets growing up?” he asked.
“We had a cat for a while.”
She’d loved Matilda the cat, but Matilda’s cat dander hadn’t loved her. A cat and childhood asthma hadn’t been a good combination. Matilda had been sent to live with the cousins in Puyallup.
“I like cats,” he said. Before she could say anything more Jacques started another slow song and Trevor caught her hand. “Come on, let’s dance.”
Dancing was more fun than talking about her health issues, anyway.
She caught sight of Harriet dragging a husky guy wearing a long shirt over bagging jeans onto the floor. “It looks like you’ve been dumped for a younger man,” she said to Trevor.
“Thank God. Propinquity finally saved me,” he said, drawing her to him.
“Pro...what? It sounds like a disease.”
He chuckled. “It has to do with being close to someone. You can’t help but fall in love eventually. Or maybe even sooner.”
As his lips moved close to that sensitive spot behind her ear she decided there was a lot to be said for propinquity. “I wish you were a doctor.” She sighed.
“You know, I do see that you have a certain condition, but I’m not sure you need a doctor to treat it.”
“What condition? What do you mean?” she asked suspiciously.
He tightened his hold on her. “Okay, now don’t take this as an insult, but I think you might be a hypochondriac.”
She scowled at him. “That’s what my sister says.”
“I concur with her diagnosis,” he said.
Well, who asked him, anyway?
“Hey, lots of people are. By the way, did I mention that I majored in psychology in college? I’m practically a shrink. I can help when you have a bout of hypochondria.”
“I am not a hypochondriac,” she insisted, frowning at him. “I just happen to be in tune with my body.”
One Charmed Christmas Page 20
