Lindsay

A cruise. Never thought of myself as the cruising sort, but as I walk down the gangplank and show my passport, I realize escaping into the bowels of a boat might be exactly what I need more of in life. Just like The Love Boat, I can guest-star for a week in a different role, and then go home to my life, no worse for the wear.

Why shouldn’t I live a life of virgin daiquiris with paper umbrellas, listening to bad pickup lines at the poolside bar? It’s as good a cause as any to find myself. Maybe. Clearly, it wasn’t selling suits, or I wouldn’t be this tall. It wasn’t helping single mothers with their money, or one of my friends might have said it was a good idea. And it can’t be planning wedding showers, because I don’t have that many friends.

I’m stuck, so naturally, I turned on the television and saw Titanic playing. Granted, most people wouldn’t think of going on a cruise when watching Titanic, but my luck on land hasn’t been very good, so it can’t be that bad on sea. There wasn’t a lot of prayer involved other than the deep desire to get away.

As Penny often says about her twins, I create my own weather patterns. Where I go, storms seem to follow, and at some point, I have to say to myself, what did I do to create this Category 5?

What better place to work on all that than a cruise? There will be no one to mix me up, no one to tell me I’m doing it wrong, and most important, there will be no Jake and no Ronnie to make me believe Prince Charming can rescue me from my pathetic self. Ron, God love him, he was a good man, but he didn’t fix my problems, my fears, or my abandonment issues. He only helped me avoid them with cold, hard cash and tasks to keep me busy.

I’ve brought my Bible and an excess of self-help books, and if a girl can’t get fixed in a week’s worth of solace, prayer, and self-help books, I don’t know that there’s hope for anyone.

“Tickets, please.” A young steward takes my ticket and scans it. “Welcome to the Exploration Princess, Mrs. Brindle.”

“Thank you. And it’s Miss. Miss Brindle.” I look down and see my wedding ring and I yank it from my finger and shove it into my pocket.

“The elevators will take you to the eighth floor, Miss Brindle. There’s a buffet being served in the Starburst Room, and your dinner is at eight o’ clock. Enjoy.”

“I plan to.”

I used to be a tough girl. I’ve turned into a whiny, soft person that I detest. I’m like Bette without the substance.

“So who is it going to be?” Cherry asked me as I left the condo last night. “The handsome one with the nice—ahem—backside, or the sweet, young son of your ex-husband. He probably has a little money now. And those eyes…” She sighs. “Can you imagine what it’s like to wake up to those eyes?”

Hearing Cherry talk about men like that is always disturbing, and it never quite loses its shock value. “It’s not going to be either. I’m off to have some fun.”

“You go, girl! Woowoo!” she squealed as I left. I laugh just thinking about it.

“What’s so funny?” a man in the elevator asks me.

“I was just thinking about my neighbor. She was excited I was going on a cruise.”

He gives me one of those smiles and nods as though I’m crazy myself.

I think back to her advice. “Lindsay, don’t waste your life on appearances. Look at my face—looks forty, doesn’t it? My chest, maybe twenty-five, but honey, there ain’t no denying I am an eighty-year-old woman. I feel it in my bones.” She releases her grip and pats my arm. “You go sail around the ocean and come back, ready to commit to someone or something. You’re not a loner like us. Hear that much. I may be just the crazy old lady who lives across the porch from you, but I learned a thing or two in these decades.”

Maybe I should have gone to a spa—less contact with humanity there. Bette’s expression told me exactly what she thought of the cruise, and the fact that Cherry approves doesn’t say much for my choice. I have this knack for creating conflict, and only when I’m in it do I see the steps that I took to get there. I like to think myself a victim of circumstances, but really now…I’ve stopped a wedding from happening, I’ve kissed my dead husband’s nephew and I’ve offended my houseguest by breaking the one promise she asked of me. I couldn’t have stumbled into all of that, could I have?

As I step off the elevator, my cell phone rings, and I look at it to see that it’s Haley. I plop the suitcase down and answer. No doubt she’s calling because of Bette’s panicked phone call to her. “Yes, Haley?”

“Girl, I don’t know what you’re up to, but you do remember me right? Your best friend? The girl you saved from a lifetime of chocolate frosting and nights of bad TV psychology? I feel like you’re running from me, and I can’t keep up. Where have you been?”

“I’m not up to anything.” I’m not in the mood to be around a bride, full of hope for the future. Even if she is my best friend.

“I know, Bette says you’re going on a cruise.”

“Don’t I deserve a vacation? I just wanted to have some time to myself. Mull things over a bit. I don’t even know what to say about my mother. She wasn’t all bad. Right? Maybe I’ll like the woman she’s become. Who knows?”

“Well, I suppose so. I wish I could take some of this from you.”

“But you can’t because you’re the charmed one, remember?”

“It’s when I stopped wearing rhinestones, my life suddenly got so rocky. I’m thinking a cruise is an excellent place for you to pick up a new wardrobe. A tacky, vacation wardrobe.”

“I got the invitations out for the shower. Did you see them?”

“They’re gorgeous. I can’t wait to see everyone. My mother has forgiven everyone, now that I’m marrying a man my own age. She invited Gavin’s wife to come down with her for the shower.”

Gavin is the man Haley’s mother hoped she would marry. “That has to mean Hamilton’s in like flint now, huh?”

“And why wouldn’t he be? How on earth did you book a cruise so fast?”

“They had the presidential suite still open for this week. They usually upgrade it if it’s not sold, and it wasn’t so I gave them my credit card number, and for the next four days, the suite is mine. The storm in the condo should have blown over by the time I get back. Jane will have found a new place to live, or better yet, be on her way back to the life she lives in Mexico. Jake will figure out what to do with his sorry, commitment-phobe life, and if I had to guess, it’s to run into his bride’s arms and beg forgiveness. Ronnie will have realized he made a mistake—” My voice trails off.

“Wait a minute. What was that?”

“Nothing. Look, we’ll talk when I get back. It’s four days; you’ll survive without me.”

“What did you do? You can’t leave me hanging like that!”

“Uh-oh, you’re breaking up. Better run!” I snap the phone shut and pause outside my double-doored suite.

I open the door and jump onto the bed, stretching out wide across the king-size mattress. I pull out a book. “Okay, Dr. Phil. This is the last time I take a bald man to bed with me.”