Page 40 of Tiki Hut Tragedy
“Because you loved her,” Millie said softly. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have moments of joy.”
The pungent aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air. “This shop smells like my kind of place.”
“Coffee,” the pastor said. “Let me treat you to a cup. It will be my way of thanking you for dragging me off the ship.”
She laughed out loud. “Maybe not dragging but definitely persuading.”
They stepped inside the cozy shop. A square sign hung on the wall behind the stainless steel counter touting authentic and organic coffee.
Millie and the pastor promptly joined the back of the line. Reaching the front, they each ordered something different and then settled in at a table for two near the front window. While they chatted, she watched pedestrians stroll past, noticing an even mix of locals and cruise ship passengers.
“You’re a people-watcher,” the pastor observed.
“It’s a habit of mine. I love visiting new places and exploring.”
“Me too. I’m enjoying our outing immensely.”
“Good, because we’re not done.” Millie pulled a local map from her pocket and unfolded it. “Not far from Umbrella Street is Pink Street, which is where we’re heading next.”
After finishing their beverages, they exited the shop and continued exploring, weaving in and out of foot traffic. At the end of the block, they keptgoing, reaching the iconic Pink Street only steps away.
“Color me pink.” Millie twirled around, admiring the bright hues of pink…the gate, the buildings, the brick street. “This street has an interesting history. The official name is Paseo de Doña Blanca, named after Bianca Franceschini, Doña Blanca to the locals. She and her husband immigrated here from Italy and opened Hotel Europa in the late 1800s, the first hotel in Puerto Plata.”
“Which put the city on the map,” the pastor guessed.
“Correct, so Pink Street is in honor of Bianca.”
They walked all the way to the end, stopping occasionally to admire artwork and even a vintage pink phone hanging on the wall before wandering through several shops at the far end.
“We’ve reached the end of today’s sightseeing tour,” Millie said. “Unfortunately, it’s time to head back.”
“And wade our way through the pushy vendors.”
“I’ve found they’re not as bad on the return trip, probably because it isn’t worth their time to sell us on something.”
The walk went smoothly and without incident. Only a couple of guides tried stopping them. Finally, they reached the security checkpoint and passed through.
“This must be where most of the passengers hang out.”
Strategically spread out near the port were swimming pools, bars, restaurants and even a lazy river, all shiny and new, a sharp contrast to the historic and authentic downtown Puerto Plata.
Reaching the ship, Millie dropped her backpack on the belt and grabbed it after passing through the scanner.
The pastor caught up with her moments later. “Thank you for inviting me to hang out with you. I enjoyed myself immensely.”
“I’m glad you took me up on the offer and thank you for the coffee.” Millie promised she would check with Sharky to see if he had an update on the coffee machine.
“Or I can do it. I’m sure you’re plenty busy.”
“Actually, I need to chat with him about something else, so it’s no problem.”
Parting ways, Millie took the stairs to the bridge. She swapped out her street clothes for her uniform, freshened up and then made her rounds, starting at the lido deck and working her way down.
She reached the casino, currently closed while the ship was in port, and remembered what Astrid had said, how Dixie and Wendy argued over a slot machine. Two full days had passed since the tragic accident.
Thinking Patterson might have an update by now, she trekked down to the security department’s office only to discover the lights were off and the door was locked.
“Crud.” It took a minute for her to locate him.
