Chapter 12
Pancakes and eggs would be served for supper. The boys loved breakfast for supper, Annie mused. Tomorrow night would be brisket, from a recipe of her grandmother’s.
While she was stirring her pancake batter, the phone rang.
“Hey, DeeAnn,” she said.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“I’m about ready to start supper. You?”
“Taking a bit of a break at the shop. I saw an e-mail from Paige. What the hell is going on with that cruise? Someone was killed? We need to get them off that ship!”
“Calm down, DeeAnn,” Annie said. She pictured DeeAnn’s face red with worry.
“They are on the ship with a killer,” DeeAnn said. “And guess what? I just saw a weather report that one of those freaky storms is heading for the Mexican coast. Right where they are supposed to be in two days. Oh Lawd, Beatrice was right. They should have stayed home.”
Annie’s heart raced a bit. “Did you say a storm is heading for them?” She stirred her batter harder.
“No, it’s heading for the coast where they’re going,” DeeAnn said.
“I’m sure the cruise people know that,” Annie said. “I mean, they need to be watching the weather, right? That’s part of what they do. Don’t worry about that.”
DeeAnn sighed. It was a long and heavy sigh. “I just wish . . . if they had to go we could be there. We could at least provide some sanity. Sheila has a concussion. Vera and Eric are all disgustingly love struck, evidently, sneaking off to their room all the time. Are any of them paying attention?”
“C’mon. They know a killer is on board. But they are still trying to have a good time. Especially Sheila. Think of the opportunities,” she said.
DeeAnn was silent. “Poor thing.”
“I’m sure Vera and Eric will take care of her. And there is a doctor and medical facilities on the ship. There’s nothing we can do for any of them from here.”
DeeAnn took a sharp breath. “I suppose you’re right. I’ve got work to do. I guess I better get off the phone. Got in an order for twenty loaves of lemon poppy seed bread. Thank God people don’t bake anymore. Keeps me flush, but it’s exhausting. I’m starting to hate Christmas.”
Annie laughed. “Are we still getting together tomorrow night?”
“Absolutely!” DeeAnn said. “We’ll crop till we drop in Cumberland Creek while our friends are on the high seas.”
After they hung up, Annie spooned the pancake batter onto her griddle and listened to the hiss, smelled the grease and butter as they came together.
She missed her friends—and that surprised her. They had only been gone four days. They had flown to Miami, hopped aboard the Jezebel, and headed for Saint Thomas. Their next stop was Mexico, where Sheila was expected to lead a scrapbooking-photography class.
She had thought about joining them, but she and Mike had made a commitment to spending the Jewish holidays at home with their boys. It was something Mike had when he was a boy and wanted to continue with his children. Annie’s home life as a child was not as constant. Giving up a cruise with her friends was worth the harmony that she felt at home. There would be plenty of time, later, for travel. Though maybe not a cruise. She was sort of with Beatrice on this one. Cruises were low on her priority list.
She flipped the pancakes over and listened as her boys excitedly discovered that breakfast was for supper.
Later, boys in bed, her phone rang. It was Beatrice.
“How do?” Beatrice said when Annie answered.
Annie heard Christmas music in the background. “I’m fine.”
“What do you think about all this nonsense on the cruise?”
“It makes me a little nervous, but there’s nothing we can do about it.”
Then Beatrice told her about the FBI agents visiting her, which infuriated Annie.
“Honestly! One hand doesn’t know what the other is doing. And how could the ship’s security make such a huge mistake?” Annie felt the hair on the back of her neck prick. Was it her reporter’s intuition? Or a simple fear for her friend’s safety?
“I agree. It’s egregious. If they were paying for the cruise, I’d demand their money back,” Beatrice said. “But it’s all free for all of them with Sheila’s prize tickets—except the guys, I guess.”
“How’s it going with your bazaar?”
“Good. I hope you come by. It’s next Saturday. Hopefully, they will all be home by then. Lizzie misses her mama.”
“I bet. She can come over here tomorrow afternoon if you want.”
“Nah. her Dad’s taking her for the weekend. Thank God he’s finally getting it together and is not running around with young women anymore.”
“It’s finally over with Kelsey?”
“She’s back in jail. And I don’t think he cares to see her.”
“I hope so,” she said, remembering what a blow that was to Vera and how disturbed the young woman was.
But then Vera had found love again with Eric, which was driving Sheila a bit bonkers. Say what you will for Vera’s first husband, Bill, but he didn’t hang around all the time like Eric did. He’d even come to some of their weekly crops—until it had become sacred “women” time. No men allowed.
It didn’t bother Annie at all when he came along, but Sheila huffed and puffed and rolled her eyes behind their backs, which was interesting. Sheila and Vera had grown up together and had been friends their whole lives. Annie envied their relationship—most of the time.
“How’s the new book coming along?” Beatrice asked.
“It’s going well, except for the nightmares.”
“Nightmares?”
“It’s hard to write about this kind of murder without having bad dreams. She was abused for years. That’s hard. And then she took an ax to her abuser, who happened to be her dad. Really difficult to wade through in any meaningful way, trying to get beneath the surface of all of it,” Annie said, and then paused a beat. “You want to say ‘good for her’ on the one hand, but on the other . . . well, wasn’t there another way?”
Beatrice was silent. Unusual. Then, “I guess it is hard to relate. But sometimes you are so isolated—or feel that way—that you can’t think of another thing to do.”
“I don’t think she was thinking. I believe some strange thing happened in her brain. She just snapped,” Annie said. “And for me, losing control is the most frightening thing of all.”