Santa Cruise

by Fern Michaels

  “So?” Nina peered at her closely.

  “So . . . one night he stopped by to pick up the key and he was handsomely dressed, clean-shaven, beautiful black wavy hair slicked back. He was stunning.” Frankie was starting to get embarrassed.

  “And?” Amy pressed.

  “And, of course, my legs turned to jelly. His slight accent and his, I dunno, his aura, blew me away. Probably because I wasn’t expecting it.”

  “So what’s the problem?” Nina asked.

  “He’s engaged. I found out just before we left. His cousin Antonio delivered dinner and told me Giovanni was in Italy visiting his fiancée, and I was not to worry because he would be back in time to take care of Bandit.”

  “Oh, honey. That stinks.” Nina put her arm around Frankie.

  “It’s silly. I never went out with him or anything, but when I heard he was engaged, I was terribly disappointed.” She shrugged and sighed.

  “Well, at least you found someone who piqued your interest. That’s a step in the right direction.” Amy tried to put a positive spin on her friend’s woes.

  “I agree with Amy. And this is why we are on this trip. To forget about life for a while, meet people, and have fun. All of us seem to be going through some kind of transformation, so let’s just go with it. At least for now.” Nina was being very encouraging.

  “Thanks. You guys are the best.” Frankie put an arm around each of them.

  “We should probably stop all this groping. The men will think we’re not available.” Amy snickered.

  Frankie turned to Amy and planted a nude-shade lipstick kiss on her cheek. Then she turned to Nina and deposited what was left from her lips to Nina’s cheek. Both made a silly face at her. She dug into her jute bag and produced two tissues and handed one to each of them. “Sorry.” She smirked.

  “Aw, honey pie. It’s OK to have a schoolgirl crush. Heck, remember when we all adored Drake Bell?” Nina asked.

  “Who?” Frankie couldn’t remember the name.

  “Exactly,” Nina said. “He was a TV heartthrob, and we all had a crush on him.”

  “I’m drawing a blank. But I do remember Jesse Metcalfe. He was a cutie; and he’s still on TV.”

  “My point is, we had crushes on people we didn’t know, and now we can’t even remember who they were.” Nina was consoling her friend.

  “I don’t know why I feel so foolish.”

  “Well, just stop it. Now,” Nina instructed her.

  As they walked through Mallory Square, they saw that it was replete with holiday decorations. Older homes had a more traditional décor, with wreaths, garland, and Santas on the lawns. Hundreds of palm trees were adorned. Each frond was wired with green lights, and white lights wrapped around the trunk. Colorful lights adorned large gumbo-limbo trees. White lamp poles decorated like candy canes lined the streets. The gift market was equally festive, with miniature lights in all the windows. Key West, known for kitsch, had its fair share of tacky decorations as well. Some of the Santas were scantily clad in shocking costumes that would most likely be banned in most other towns. Festivities abounded. All day and all night.

  Nina decided to take the half-mile walk to the Hemingway Home and Museum. They would do some shopping after lunch on their way back to the ship.

  Amy was reading the brochure to Nina and Frankie. Originally, Hemingway and his wife, Pauline, arrived in Key West in 1928 and rented a home for three years until Pauline’s generous and wealthy uncle Gus purchased the property for them. The original home was built in 1851 and was in desperate need of renovation, which they completed in the early 1930s. Today, it is a historical landmark, home to forty-plus polydactyl cats. A fishing captain had given Hemingway his first multitoed cat named Snow White, and Hemingway began “collecting” them over the years. In 1940, when he and Pauline divorced, Hemingway moved to Cuba with his third wife, and Pauline maintained the property, cats and all, but Hemingway retained the rights to the home. It was eventually sold at auction for eighty thousand dollars.”

  “I wonder what that is in today’s money.”

  “About seven hundred grand.” Amy calculated the number in her head, and continued, “Get this. His former wife Pauline died ten years before he did, in 1951. They said the cause of death was shock. She was only fifty-six. Her son, Gregory, who had experienced difficulty his entire life with gender identity, had been arrested on a morals charge. Fifty years later, Dr. Gregory Hemingway, sometimes referred to as Gloria, was found dead in his cell in Miami–Dade County Women’s Detention Center, where he was waiting to face a charge of indecent exposure.”

  “That’s in the brochure?” Frankie asked, showing her surprise.

  “Not the official one.” Amy raised her eyebrows.

  The women approached the Spanish Colonial estate along with over a hundred other tourists. “I guess we should have signed up for a tour,” Nina said. “So, Miss Push-Planner, what should we do next? Wait in line?”

  Frankie was forlorn. “I’m sorry, guys. I don’t know what I was thinking. This is the busiest time of year. Maybe we can get into the gardens.”

  “Show us the way.”

  The property was brimming, with over a half dozen different varieties of palm trees, banana trees, royal poincianas, mimosas, bamboo, and Barbados cherry trees. Bougainvillea climbed the sides of the building. It was a veritable garden of paradise.

  “Wow. How gorgeous is this?” Frankie commented.

  “Spectacular,” Nina said in awe.

  “I’ll say. ‘Spectacular’ doesn’t describe it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful. It’s a landscape wonderland,” Amy said softly. “Oh, look. It’s a Hemingway cat. There’s another.” She realized there were several walking idly on the property.

  “Yes, this is the Hemingway House. Therefore, Hemingway cats,” Nina said playfully.

  “Yep. You’re some kind of comedian.” Amy bent down to stroke a big tabby. “You know it’s in their DNA.”

  “What is?” Nina asked.

  “Polydactyly. That’s why there are so many of them.”

  Nina looked at Frankie. “She’s a walking encyclopedia.”

  “Who needs Google when we have Amy?” Frankie kidded.

  After the women spent an hour viewing the exterior, the line for the tour didn’t seem to be getting any shorter.

  “What do you say we start to head back? Stop at Mallory Square?” Frankie suggested. “We have another hour before lunch.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Nina agreed.

  “I’m really sorry I didn’t think this through. I remembered when I was in college you could just walk in.” Frankie was apologetic.

  “No worries, babe. I’m sure we’ll find something to do that won’t cause too much trouble,” Nina reassured her. “And thanks for sharing your secret crush with us. I’m glad it wasn’t anything too dreadful.”

  “Thanks, pal.” Frankie was relieved that she had spilled her latest angst with her friends.

  “That’s what we’re here for.” Amy put her arm around Frankie. “No biggie about the tour. I think we saw enough.”

  As they headed toward the restaurant, a juggling Santa on a unicycle, wearing a G-string and a flashing cap, deliberately blocked their passage. He gave them a few “Ho-ho-ho”s as he manipulated the Christmas ornaments in the air.

  Frankie figured he was looking for some coin so she pulled out her wallet and stuffed a fiver in the stocking hanging from his big black belt. As they were walking away, she turned to the others, and asked, “Anyone have hand sanitizer?”

  The three women burst out laughing, and Amy responded with a small spray of Purell.

  “You are priceless,” Frankie commented. “You are a walking bundle of information, and you have hand sanitizer to boot.”

  “Goes with the territory,” Amy answered. “We’re always slathering this stuff. You never know what’s lurking in a petri dish.” She smiled mockingly.

  They were at Mallory Square aga
in with a half hour to spare before they met Rachael for lunch. Nina opted to stop in the ceramic studio, while Frankie chose the candle shop. Amy decided to just keep window-shopping.

  A half hour passed, and Nina came out with a beautiful dish in the shape of a lotus blossom. Frankie was carrying several lavender and vanilla candles. “You never know when you’ll need a hostess gift,” she reminded her friends.

  “We still have three more ports to go,” Amy reminded her.

  “True, but I don’t want to have to think about it.” Frankie was matter-of-fact.

  “What hostess are you gifting?” Nina asked casually.

  Frankie answered, “I have no idea, but I always keep a little something just in case.” She winked. “You do know that the ship has a mail-room facility that will pack and ship whatever you don’t want to haul back, don’t you?”

  “Oh, that’s really good to know.” Nina smiled brightly. “I may get another one of these.” She indicated the shopping bag she was carrying.

  “On the way back from lunch. Rachael should be there any minute. I can’t wait to hear about her dance lesson. Let’s go.” Frankie began to walk in the direction of the restaurant.

  The women chatted, commenting on the party-like atmosphere filling the streets, the beautiful foliage, the quaint buildings and shops along the way. But it was mostly the nineteenth-century architecture that they found so interesting. “Did you know that during the nineteenth century, Key West was one of the wealthiest towns in the country?” Amy’s factoids came into play. “There were a lot of shipwrecks and salvage companies. They also provided much of the salt used back then. They harvested it from receding tide pools. And they also made a lot of cigars.” She giggled. “You know, right now we’re closer to Cuba than we are to Miami,” Amy continued. “This area was a great asset during the Spanish-American War.”

  “Who needs a tour guide when we have Amy?” Nina gave her a one-arm hug.

  “Too bad we missed Cowboy Bill’s Holiday Charity Hayride and the Lighted Boat Parade,” Amy continued.

  “So how did such a historical and vital area become so, so quirky?” Nina asked.

  “They had rumrunners and speakeasies during Prohibition. Lots of piracy and illicit drugs. It was kind of like the Wild West. And its proximity and accessibility made it a safe haven for a lot of illegitimate businesses but a nightmare for authorities. Today, there are more bars per capita than any other place in the country!”

  “Such an interesting little town.” Frankie smiled at a Santa in short shorts riding a unicycle.

  Nina snorted. “Interesting for sure.”

  As they turned the corner from Whitehead Street to Duval, Amy thought she spotted Marilyn heading in the direction of the Old Town Mexican Cafe. “Hey, isn’t that Marilyn?”

  “Looks like her. Must be where she’s meeting her lunch date.” Frankie giggled.

  “Should we spy on her?” Nina asked impishly. They all looked at each other. “We can’t help it if we happen to be passing by the restaurant. It is, in fact, on our way,” Frankie said, with a straight face. “But we’d better hurry. Looks like she may be going inside.”

  The women hustled, trying to look casual with their fast pace. “We’ll just say, ‘We’re from New York.’” Frankie chuckled.

  They were less than a block away when Marilyn entered the café. It appeared she had spotted someone inside and gave a little wave.

  “There she goes.” Frankie slowed her pace so as not to bump into the throng of people milling about. She tried to look casual as she peeked into the café. “Dang. I can’t see where she went.”

  “Don’t look so obvious. She may see us and think we’re spying on her,” Nina warned.

  Frankie turned, “Isn’t that exactly what we’re doing?”

  “Good point, but let’s not make spectacles of ourselves.”

  “What should we do now?” Amy asked.

  Frankie nudged Nina. “You’re the tallest. See if you can get a better look at whom she’s with.”

  Nina craned her neck but all she could see was a profile, and his face was in the shadow. The only thing she could make out was a full head of salt-and-pepper hair. “Well, he’s not bald.” She felt like they were gawking a bit more than they should be. “Come on. Let’s move it before she spots us.”

  They hurried past the café and continued to Conch Republic Seafood. “Now what?” Amy asked.

  “What do you mean?” Nina replied.

  “How are we going to find out who she’s with?”

  “We have several more days to figure that out,” Frankie said, a glimmer in her eye.

  “Oh, I know that look.” Nina smirked.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Frankie faked her answer.

  “Ha.” Nina linked her free arm through Frankie’s. “I guess I’m going to have to keep my eye on you, too.”

  Music filled the streets from open windows and doors. From the outside, Conch Republic Seafood looked like a lively place. There was a covered deck for dining. And drinking. Rachael was pacing in front of the restaurant.

  “How did it go?” Frankie asked.

  “Great,” Rachael answered with gusto. “I am so excited about all of it.”

  “What did you practice today?” Nina asked, as they approached the front door.

  “Um, well, it’s a surprise.” Rachael had a playful look on her face.

  “Hey, no secrets here, missy,” Nina reminded her.

  “Oh, come on. Henry is working on something, and I don’t want to ruin the surprise. OK? Can we leave it at that? Please?” Rachael was almost pleading.

  “OK. Fine. But it better be a good surprise.” They followed the hostess, weaving their way to the outdoor patio area.

  The menu was chock-full of seafood delights, and they decided to share several appetizers. Of course, the conch fritters were a must, along with peel-and-eat shrimp, crab cakes, and baked oysters. They resisted the temptation to order a round of beer. “Save the calories for dinner,” Frankie joked.

  They exchanged information about what they were able to see at the Hemingway House, but Rachael was much more interested in their spotting Marilyn.

  “So you didn’t get a good look at him?” Rachael sounded disappointed.

  “No, except he has a head of salt-and-pepper hair.”

  “That describes about forty percent of the men on the boat.” Rachael took a huge bite of the crab cake. “Yum. This is delish.” After she swallowed a chunk, she asked, “What’s next?”

  “I think I’m going to stop by the shops at Mallory Square again,” Nina said.

  “I didn’t mean that. I meant what’s the next plan for sleuthing?” Rachael’s curiosity was aroused.

  “I haven’t figured that out yet. Who do you think we are, Charlie’s Angels?” Frankie let out a loud roar. She motioned for the waitress to bring the check.

  “Let’s see. It’s almost two thirty. Is there anything else you guys want to do or see? Personally, I wouldn’t mind going back to the ship and getting some sun,” Frankie said. “The ship leaves at six. We should also decide what we’re going to do for fun tonight.”

  “I think we should do the speed dating. It could be a hoot.” Amy inserted her idea.

  “Count me in,” Rachael squealed.

  “I guess you won’t let me sit that one out, will you?” Nina asked, as if she knew the answer.

  “Correct. The only sitting you will be doing is interviewing potential love connections,” Frankie told her.

  “Love connections?” Nina moaned. “All right. Count me in, too.”

  “Excellent. I’ll sign us up when I get back to the ship. Any ideas for dinner?”

  “There’s a deck party at six. We should go to that first. How about Asian?” asked Rachael.

  “If I ever digest those fritters.” Nina rubbed her belly.

  The women laughed out loud. “Me too!” Amy patted her stomach.

  They split the check, g
athered their tote bags and their purchases, and went off to their destinations.

  When Frankie returned to her stateroom, she called the number listed on the manifest for activities. She punched the four-digit number. “Good afternoon. Guest services,” came a chipper voice over the phone.

  “Good afternoon. I’d like to make a reservation for the speed dating tonight,” Frankie explained.

  “Excellent,” Chirpie replied. “Do you have an age preference?”

  Frankie balked for a moment. “Uh, I guess. Late-thirties to late forties. Maybe a scooch at fifty but he’s gotta have spunk!” Frankie laughed. Chirpie joined her. “There will be four of us.” Frankie gave her their names. She waited a moment for Chirpie to record the information. “Can you tell me how many people are attending?” Frankie scrunched, anticipating the response.

  “So far we have thirty people. Seventeen women and thirteen men.”

  “What happens when there aren’t an equal number?” Frankie asked.

  “The women will sit out a round. But don’t you worry. We always end up with a balance,” Chirpie chirped. “Please be sure to sign in by eight thirty. Caribbean Ballroom.”

  Frankie hung up, thinking she might have made a huge mistake. In any event, she was taking down her gal pals with her. She chuckled. Should be an interesting night.

  Instead of changing into a bathing suit, Frankie decided to wrap herself in a large, sleeveless spa robe and sit on her veranda. She brought a book with her, but she knew she wasn’t going to be able to read. There was too much going on in her head. But wasn’t the reason for this trip to relax? Put the worries on a shelf for a few days? She grabbed one of the pillows, placed it on the cocktail table, perched herself on one of the chairs, and stretched her legs across her makeshift lounge chair. Even though it was a little awkward, Frankie was able to relax into the quasi-dreamlike state of Theta. The place between dreaming and being awake. Most of us recognize it in the morning when we first wake up. Our surroundings are a backdrop in our dream. And vice versa. We’re half here and half there. Wherever “there” is.