Page 11 of Date and Switch

“Nonsense. We’re going. I’m sure I have a suit that will compliment that dress.”

I packed three, in fact. Plus, the tux. But I wasn’t about to wear a tuxedo and have her feel underdressed in comparison. I met her at the threshold of our bedroom, and collected the dress out of her hand, and hung it on the dressing hanger next to the full-length mirror.

“I’m sorry.” I turned to her, hoping my apology sounded as sincere as I intended it to. “That whole thing with Doreen—I never meant to embarrass you. My intent was to gift you with something out of the ordinary not to make you feel inadequate.”

“You said this is a cocktail dress.”

She ran her fingers down the bodice of her dress. It was the first time I noticed her nails. No longer full of rainbows and unicorns but painted in a nude shade and tipped with glitter. They were very her, but in an elevated way.

“It is a cocktail dress. A very lovely one. However, formal nights on the cruise, especially the one’s labeled “ball,” tend to lean towards the extreme in attire. The women downstairs will be dressed more than likely in floor length ball gowns. Especially on this kind of around the world cruise. The clientele is a bit—highbrow—for lack of a better word.”

It sounded so ridiculous the more I spoke. I truly didn’t give a shit for any of this bourgeois theater of status. I’d be more than content grabbing a slice of pizza from the buffet.

“There are five “balls” over the course of our trip. They will be the most formal. There are another five formal nights—where this cocktail dress and the others you packed will be the perfect attire for the evening. They’ll probably throw another couple of surprise get togethers in there, because they’ll try to find any way they can to make more money from the people on this ship. As if the gigantic price tag wasn’t enough, they’ll sucker you into wanting to have your hair done, or to change up the cute design on your nails. I’d venture a guess that somewhere around Christmas they’ll have a fashion show as the evening’s entertainment as a way to convince all the women on the ship to purchase new gowns, so they have fresh attire for the holidays and new year, complete with fresh portrait sessions downstairs from the photographers.

“There are photographers downstairs?”

Interest piqued; a little bit of her sparkle returned.

“Oh god yes. You’ll see. They will be everywhere, like the damn paparazzi, insistent on taking your picture so they can sell it to you later. You’ll have so many pictures by the end of this cruise you could probably wallpaper the entire stateroom.”

“We can use them for our Instagram page or on the blog,” she suggested, her lips tipping into a half smile.

“Of course! How could we forget our adoring fans. All one hundred and fifty of them from this morning’s live stream.”

Remembering how nervous she’d been to go live on Instagram teased at my lips and drew a smile. I needed to remember to thank Tillie for giving Sera that opportunity.

“Wouldn’t it be something if by the time our vacation ends, we’re like a thing.”

Her eyes went wide, and her face flushed as soon as the word was out of her mouth.

“I mean, like an internet thing. Like as if we’re one of those couples that people feel connected to and continue to want to know about us—I mean two people not like a couple couple. Like influencers. It would be cool if we walked away from this trip with something cool happening like that.”

Personally, I wasn’t one for fame or notoriety. Unlike my brother and his wife, and apparently Sera also, I didn’t need to document my coming and going for the world to approve of via social interaction. I liked living a quiet, practically social media free existence. For now, because it provided Sera a stream of income while we traveled, and helped my sister-in-law get some extra eyes on her radio show, I tolerated it. Provided of course, we stuck to first names on both the travelogue and our social media accounts, and we kept finite details of our lives off the internet.

We had a day at sea and then our first port of call would be Mexico. As we’d discussed the details of the first week’s itinerary over dinner with our dinner companions, Sera and I were pretty aligned in our lack of interest in Mexico. We’d both seen the touristy version of Caribbean Mexico. I intended to get some work done so I could manage my projects in advance of the ports I really wanted to experience. Sera planned to spend the day with a book poolside.

The first night sleeping in our room was much less awkward than I thought it would be. Perhaps it was the bottle of gin the table had shared at dinner, but Sera barely got her teeth brushed and her pajamas on and she was out cold before I’d even finished hanging my suit and setting out my clothes for the following day. Showering had proven to be a bit of a challenge given there wasn’t a true “door” on our bedroom area, and the bathroom sat between the bedroom and our living area. But we survived. Resort style robes were on the list of things I asked Paolo to source once we docked in Mexico. I was near certain one of the many resorts on Playa del Carmen sold them in their gift shops. As much as it entertained me to see Sera blush like a virgin and sprint, damp, and wrapped in a towel toward the bedroom, I assumed having the robe to protect her privacy would be better appreciated while we existed in the getting to know you phase.

Me: Esther, please source at least three ball gowns, in a woman’s size 16-18. Use your best judgement on size. There is a tailor on board if need be. Coordinate to have them on board at whichever Caribbean port of call makes most sense.

I sent a text to my assistant. I’d be damned if Sera had to feel out of place at another damn dinner because the stupid ship refused to consider additional sizes in their stores.

Me: While you’re at it, please arrange for us to meet with an atelier when we are either in France or Italy. You have my itinerary. I don’t believe we hit the European ports of call for a few months at least.

Me: Actually, I’m looking at the itinerary and we arrive in Los Angeles the second week of the New Year. I’d like two dresses for Christmas and New Year sent to whichever Caribbean port of call makes sense. Then in L.A. please arrange for Naomi to be ready to board as soon as we dock with considerations for the remainder of the cruise.

Esther: Will do! Are we keeping the atelier in Europe or is that scratched now?

Me: No, please keep that.

Esther: Certainly. Do you have a preference? Or an order of preference?

Me: I think I have some time with that one. Let me get back to you. My hunch is Isabel Marat. Check and see what her summer schedule will be. Dependent on her availability we’ll see about Italy.

Esther: Absolutely. Also, I have you booked directly across the street from the port in Los Angeles at the Westin. Unfortunately, I can’t get you to our hotel and back to port before you disembark. The Westin gives you more time to with the Gilroys. Penn will fly out and meet you there. Your father says he’s going to let you two take the lead.

Los Angeles was six weeks away, but already I sensed the anxiety creeping back in. Expansion to Europe was my idea. It was one of the reasons I felt I could take this time away. It gave me ample opportunity to explore all the cities I felt Ellis Enterprises could best insinuate properties into the landscape. What I hadn’t been counting on was for the Gilroys, our planned partners in our expansion into Europe, to be in Los Angeles just after the New Year and for them to want to meet.

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