Page 86 of Love Overboard
Abby elbowed her. “You won’t need it. You’ve snagged yourself a major catch.”
“So we ascertained.” The quiet Daisy finally spoke, giving Lacey a genuine smile.
“I’m tickled pink for you.” Althea enveloped Lacey in a soft, teddy-bear hug. “You don’t have to worry about Jonny. He’s good as twenty-four-karat gold.”
Gerry tugged Althea away. “That’s enough touchy-feely stuff. Lacey has a job to do. And I want to check my email.” She nodded at Lacey and Abby. “We’ll chat later, girls.”
“Hold on.” Lacey jerked forward. “I … I should wait and say this when Emily’s here, but … thank you … for … pushing me and Jon together. I don’t think I’d have had the courage on my own.”
“Awww.” Althea pressed a fist to her ample bosom. “You’re welcome, baby.”
“We were happy to help,” said Daisy.
Gerry frowned and sniffed loudly. “Don’t mention it.” Her voice held a suspicious wobble.
Althea threw her arm around the tall, bony woman beside her. “We’d better get her out of here before she starts bawling. You’d never suspect it of her, but she’s quite the crybaby.”
“Stop being absurd.” Gerry raised her nose again and stalked away.
Althea and Daisy snickered at each other and followed.
Lacey nudged Abby. “Are you sure you want to trust your love life to that bunch?”
“You thanked them, didn’t you?” Abby held out both hands. “They may be a little unorthodox, but I like their results. If they can match me with a man who looks, talks, and acts as well as your boyfriend, I’d pay any fee.”
“Don’t get your hopes too high. God broke the mold when he made Jon.”
“That’s right. Rub it in.” She crossed her arms. “It’s hard to believe this is the same Lacey Anderson who used to bolt at the first hint of romance. You’ve come a long way.”
Lacey didn’t bother to deny it. She hoped to go further still. With a man like Jon, her cynical doubts were dissipating like the foam on an ocean wave. Maybe someday soon, she’d stop shoving away the dreams of forever and family whenever they entered her mind.
Emily’s heels burned as she made her way down the never-ending Progreso pier. What had possessed her to hunt for suspicious activity during a port visit? She wasn’t forty-two anymore, no matter how young she felt inside. Not to mention her investigation had uncovered exactly nada. Now would be the perfect time for one of those red bicycle taxis, but none appeared. She slid her purse handles around her wrist and bent to tighten the strap on her orthopedic sandal.
“Excuse me.” Someone swerved around her, his arms full with a paper grocery bag.
“Ricardo?” She reached to stop him as he passed.
“Yes?” The crease in his forehead disappeared as he recognized her. “Mrs. Windsor. Buenos días!”
“Buenos días.” The poor dear. Working so hard that sweat was leaking from every pore, and she was about to make his day worse. But she had to deliver the news about Lacey and Jon. “I wanted to speak to you.”
“Yes?” He looked at the bag and backed up. “Will it take long? I need to get these supplies to the kitchen before Chef becomes angry.”
“Supplies?”
Ricardo blanched. “I may have burned a large batch of cherry tarts. He worries when I waste the flour that there will not be enough. I bought more today.”
“Why not ask the provisions manager? He loads new supplies all the time.”
He shook his head. “No. It is fine. My brother, he has a store here. I get it very cheap. No time for paperwork.”
“Don’t fret.” Emily patted his arm. “I can talk while we return to the ship.”
He nodded hard enough that the hair flopped over his forehead. They walked together, the pristine white outline of the MSBuckinghamwaiting in the distance.
She cleared her throat. “I know I encouraged you to ask out Lacey Anderson, but—”
“I did.” Ricardo hefted the bag in his arms. “We ate a lovely dinner together.”
