Ransom gives a wistful tick of his head, his expression a perfect blend of professional satisfaction and personal amusement. “I’ll admit, a double confession is rare even in my FBI days.”
“And I’ll be honest,” Wes continues, “I didn’t see that twist coming.”
I look up at Ransom while giving his ribs a quick tweak. “Neither did I.”
Elodie clears her throat as she steps our way. “Speaking of doubles...” She adjusts her designer sunglasses with a mischievous smile. “Let’s just say I took on two of the stage crew last night, and there wasn’t a lighting cue they missed.”
“Elodie!” I gasp, although I’m not actually surprised. After wellover a year on a cruise ship, I’ve learned that the staff social scene makes spring break look like a church picnic.
“What?” She shrugs unapologetically. “They needed help dismantling their equipment, and I’m nothing if not a team player.”
Nettie turns to Tinsley with a curious gleam in her eye. “How about you, Toots? Did you ever land that plane?”
Tinsley’s perfectly glossed lips curl into a devious smile. “Let’s just say we achieved liftoff at twenty-one hundred hours, maintained a cruising altitude of approximately six feet above mattress level forseveralhours, experienced minor turbulence when the champagne bottle rolled off the nightstand, and executed a perfect touchdown around oh-three-hundred.” She pauses dramatically. “And he may or may not have filmed it for his future viewing pleasure.”
“Oh, Tinsley!” I gasp with far more genuine shock this time. “You had better hope he doesn’t upload a digital copy to the internet.”
“Please.” She waves dismissively. “I’ve never looked better. My contouring held up through three encores.”
“Did you check his phone afterward?” Elodie asks with practicality because clearly she’s been in this situation before. “Men like Boomer have a habit ofaccidentallysharing their private collections.”
“Ladies, please,” Ransom interjects, looking simultaneously amused and uncomfortable. “Some conversations should wait until we’re off the gangway.”
“Spoilsport,” Bess teases. “Just because you’re a one-woman man doesn’t mean we all have to be so restrained.”
As if summoned by our conversation, Boomer appears at the top of the gangway, and his designer sunglasses barely conceal the evidence of what was clearly an epic celebration. His hair is artfully tousled in that way that suggests either a professionalstylist or a particularly athletic night with one very enthusiastic cruise director.
“My stars!” he exclaims with his arms spread wide. “The dream team that delivered the greatest reality TV moment in history!”
He makes his way down the line, shaking hands with theatrical enthusiasm until he reaches Elodie. “And you, my queen of retail therapy.” He kisses her hand with an exaggerated pucker. “I was hoping to see you last night.”
“I was otherwise engaged,” Elodie replies coolly. “Unlike some people, I don’t film my nighttime activities for posterity.”
Tinsley clears her throat. “Ahem. Forgetting someone?”
Boomer lifts his sunglasses, squinting at her with genuine confusion. “Have we met? Go ahead and shoot me a headshot. We’ll see if I can cast you in anything.” He replaces his sunglasses and continues down the gangway with a confident stride as if he believes he’s leaving some serious admirers in his wake.
Tinsley’s jaw drops so far, I’m concerned she might dislocate it. “That... that... unbelievable cad! No wonder he kept calling meTeresaall night. He didn’t even know who I was!” She smooths her uniform with a look of indignation. “That’s it. I’m swearing off men.Permanently.”
“I tried that once,” Bess says with a shrug. “It didn’t work out so well. The problem is they keep making new ones.”
Before Tinsley can respond, the soap husbands appear at the top of the gangway with Harper trailing slightly behind them.
Victor Darkmore looks considerably less regal than usual, his hair suspiciously flat on one side, suggesting he spent the night tossing and turning rather than being pampered by his usual styling team.
“Farewell, fair vessel of drama and intrigue,” Bridge Blackthorne announces with theatrical gravity. “May your decks forever echo with the footsteps of those seeking truth and justice.”
“He’s still in character,” Nettie whispers my way. “Method acting is so impressive.”
Santino offers us a more subdued goodbye. “Thank you for making this the most memorable cruise of my career—and that includes the time we filmed that hurricane episode on location in the actual eye of Hurricane Beatrice.”
Harper hangs back, and I can’t help but notice that her dark eyes look softer than I’ve seen them before.
“I should apologize for the dessert buffet,” she says quietly as she enters our midst. “Although I stand by everything I said.”
“The pastry chef sends his regards,” Wes replies dryly. “He says your tantrum inspired him to create a new dessert called Chocolate Revenge. It involves shattering a chocolate dome at the tableside.”
Harper’s smile is small but genuine. “It sounds appropriate.”
