Page 42 of Transatlantic Terror Cruise

“That’s when you pack it in and live on a cruise ship full time,” Nettie adds with a laugh. “Best decision we ever made.” She lifts a spoonful of whipped cream our way as if to toast us with it.

“Oh, that’s right!” Becky Lee perks up. “You all actually live on board, don’t you? I confess”—she looks my way—“when I found this ship online, I read a bunch of your blogs. So how does living on board a cruise ship even work?”

“Well, it’s cheaper than a retirement home,” Nettie jumps in. “Plus, better food and a new view every day. We just hop from one sunny locale to the next. We had some folks do the math once and figured out it’s actually more cost-effective than maintaining a house.”

“Not to mention the built-in entertainment,” Bess adds.

“Not to mention the built-inmurder.” Sassy nods my way. “You’ve amassed quite the reputation in the heavenlies for your knack at discovering bodies. There’s a whole list of people hoping they’ll be called to help you next. When I was tapped to come down, it was sort of like winning the lottery.”

Wonderful. I’m a part of a much sought-after and ratherlethallottery among the dead. I guess I can cross that morbid item off my bucket list.

“I’m so envious of you all,” Becky Lee says while staring out at the ocean with a dreamy sigh. “I’d love to sit by the water and knit all day.” She takes a quick bite of her waffles laden with whipped cream and sprinkles. “This would be a great place for me to get a lot of studying done, too.” Her fork freezes mid-air as if she said more than she meant to.

“What are you studying?” I ask with a touch of delight. “I’m a big believer in continuing education on every level.”

“Oh, actually, it’s my sister who’s studying,” she says with a weak laugh. “I’m sort of helping her out. She’s in nursing school and it’s one of those online programs. But it’s very rigorous and I help by making flashcards, going over notes, and quizzing her. She’s pretty terrible on her own but fairly decent with my help.”

“Wow, that’s really nice of you,” Bess says. “My sister is a nurse and I can remember how hectic her life was while she was studying for those endless exams. Your sister is really lucky to have you.”

“Thank you.” Becky Lee cringes slightly. “Let’s just say I’ve been hitting the books lately, pretty hard.”

“No wonder Alfonso hit the mark about you being tired,” Nettie says.

“Did he ever.” Becky Lee blows out a breath toward the sea.

That entire scene plays out in my mind once again.

“Was he right about the other parts, too?” I press gently. “About being tired of pretending? Of smiling when you want to scream? Of listening to endless discussions about things that don’t matter while the important things slip away?”

Sassy chokes out a laugh. “You don’t waste much time, do you?”

I shoot her a look. We both know I have a honeymoon to tend to.

Becky Lee closes her eyes for a moment. “Yes,” she says quietly, then sighs. “I’ll admit, things haven’t been easy at home.”

Trouble on the home front?

Bess, Nettie, and I exchange a quick glance.

And just like that, my heart breaks for the woman.

CHAPTER22

“We don’t mind if you share,” I tell Becky Lee Darling as we nosh on our waffle ice cream monstrosities—or rather masterpieces. “You know, about the trouble you’re having at home,” I say, watching her methodically shred that napkin into tiny squares.

Bess nods encouragingly at the woman.

“Yeah.” Nettie leans in hard. “Spill the juicy deets.”

“Nettie,” Bess howls as she tosses her napkin at her. “This is not juicy, this is serious. Trouble at home is no laughing matter. You and I both know that.”

I nod to Becky Lee. “I’m more than familiar with it myself.”

“Well, in that case.” Becky Lee clears her throat as her fingers continue the destruction of her napkin. “I hope you don’t mind me unloading on you. It’s just—Patrick, well, he’s...” She glances around the deck as if she’s checking for eavesdroppers. “Everyone sees the successful attorney side of him. The provider, the family man. But at home...” her words trail off as she stares vacantly out to the ocean. “He works these killer hours at the firm. By the time he gets home, he’s cranky and starving, and nothing I do is right. The dinner is always too cold or too spicy. The house is too quiet or too messy. Last week, I bought the wrong brand of coffee and the way he went off on me, you’d think I had committed a capital offense.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Bess says mournfully. “That must be so difficult.”

“And hard on your spirit,” I say and Becky Lee’s face fills with a bit of relief as if someone is finally seeing her.

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