Santa Cruise Page 5

  Frankie padded her way back to her laptop, which was sitting on her desk. She thought about doing a marketing plan for the spring titles but remembered what Marco had said to her weeks before. “You work-a too hard!” Maybe it was the timing and pace of publishing. You’re always working on books almost a year ahead of their publication date. Even though it was late October, she was planning the strategy for books coming out the following summer, with the anticipation that the lead titles would be huge successes. Where is my crystal ball when I need it? She snickered to herself. She closed her laptop, plugged in the charger, and addressed the inanimate techno object. “¡Hasta mañana!” Then she stopped short. “Jeez, Rachael is rubbing off on me!” Bandit meowed in agreement.

  “Oh, you just shut up, Mr. Puss.” Frankie reached down to give him a long pet from head to tail. Within a half hour, her buzzer sounded. “Hello?”

  “Delivery!”

  Frankie pressed the button that would allow him into the foyer of the building. A few minutes later, the knock on the door signaled that her dinner had arrived.

  “Hello, Hiroshi!” Frankie knew all the local deliverymen by name. He gave her a courteous and respectful bow. Frankie took the delivery tag from him and handed him the cash for her food. “Arigato!” Hiroshi answered “Thank you” in Japanese, and gave another polite bow.

  Frankie answered in kind and also bowed. “Arigato!” Before she could close the door, Bandit was at her heels, eyeing the bag of sushi.

  “Oh no you don’t, mister. This is mine. All mine. Now scoot.” She stepped over the tenacious kitty and began to pull the small trays of sushi and chopsticks from the bag. She knew that if she sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, she would be battling with Bandit for her own tuna, so she opted for the fold-down table against the wall. The table had two leaves so that when opened, it could accommodate six people, but tonight it was just Frankie. She knew it would be almost impossible to keep her cat off the table, so she decided to put another bowl of his food in the kitchen. He eyed her suspiciously. “Aw, come on, kitty. Let me have my dinner in peace.” He gave her an annoyed look and begrudgingly sniffed at his dish. “Yeah, yeah. I know. It’s from a can. Get over it.” She gave him another long pet from head to tail and scurried back to the table, where her raw fish was waiting. The Philadelphia roll had smoked salmon and cream cheese. She always thought that combination was strange for Japanese cuisine, but apparently it was introduced in the 1980s, when sushi became popular in America. No matter whose idea it was, it was one of Frankie’s favorites. Like a bagel with cream cheese, but instead of the bagel, it had rice.

  Frankie was finishing up her dinner when her phone rang. It was Nina.

  “Hey, girl! What’s up?” Frankie answered.

  “I just found out they’re canceling the show. This is the last season.” Nina sounded concerned but not crushed.

  “Oh no. That’s terrible.” Frankie tossed the empty trays in the trash and went over to her sofa. She figured it was going to be a long conversation. She could hear Nina huffing a bit.

  “Are you OK?”

  “I hope so.”

  “You sound out of breath,” Frankie said.

  “I’m walking with Winston. I figured some fresh air would clear my head. I just needed a friendly voice. Winston isn’t the best conversationalist.” Nina grunted.

  “How many more episodes are they going to shoot?” Frankie asked.

  “Three more, then we’re done. Looks like I’ll be totally free by the holidays,” Nina said halfheartedly.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I have a meeting the day after tomorrow with my agent. I don’t know what she has in mind. Probably nothing. Did I ever tell you that I had an opportunity to get a secondary role in Happy Times?”

  “No, you didn’t. What happened there?” Frankie asked.

  “Apparently she and her partner had ‘bigger ideas,’ and I’m using air quotes. They thought it wasn’t a large enough part for me.” Nina let out a big sigh. “What irritates me is that they never even told me about it.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “The actress who got the part told me. I ran into her at the studio. She said she was thrilled that I had turned it down. She couldn’t thank me enough. Imagine my surprise.”

  “What did you say to her?” Frankie was aghast.

  “I kept my cool and told her that my agent had other things lined up.” Nina took another deep breath. “I was furious and called my agent right away, and she gave me the ‘bigger picture,’ no pun intended, speech. Meanwhile, she hasn’t sent me on an audition since June, when I came to the reunion.”

  “Wow. That really stinks.” Frankie knew how frustrating and disappointing show business could be.

  “And it’s almost impossible to change agents when you don’t have a gig.” Nina sounded exasperated. “Thankfully, I have some money stashed away, so I can make my overhead for the next couple of months.”

  “That’s good.” Frankie thought for a moment. She wondered if that was going to put a damper on the travel plans. “Do you still want to go on the cruise?”

  “Oh, babycakes, now more than ever. If anyone needs a change of scenery, it’s me. I am so fed up with this town.”

  Frankie laughed softly. “I know what you mean. These four walls have been closing in on me, and the corporate world is getting less and less attractive by the day.”

  “Well, maybe this trip will be the beginning of new adventures for us,” Nina said, her tone more optimistic.

  “You bet. We’ll make sure of it.” Frankie was glad her friend wasn’t a hot mess over this latest news.

  “I’ve been reevaluating my life and what other opportunities I might have, and where. So far, I haven’t been able to come up with much.” Nina scoffed.

  “Then the timing couldn’t be better for this cruise,” Frankie offered. “Fresh air, water, food, culture, music, and a few spa treatments will do us both a world of good.” Frankie’s enthusiasm was always contagious.

  “You’re my Pollyanna pal, Francesca Cappella.”

  “Indeed I am,” Frankie replied with gusto.

  “So tell me, how many outfits are you packing?” Nina was on to the subject of fun times with friends.

  “I’m thinking we’ll need two per day. Of course, we can rotate them or do some mixing and matching.”

  “We’re definitely on the same page, my friend.”

  “And, of course, accessories can change the look of any outfit,” Frankie said with assurance. She had enough handbags, hats, costume jewelry, and scarves to turn anything into something else.

  “You were always the accessory queen,” Nina noted.

  Frankie laughed. “I think my apartment is getting smaller. Or my scarves and hats are multiplying behind my back.”

  Nina chuckled in response. “Uh-huh. It has nothing to do with your going to all those thrift shops in the Village, now does it?”

  “Mea culpa!” Frankie confessed. “But the thrift shops help subsidize a lot of charities.”

  “Good answer,” Nina teased.

  “Very funny.”

  “Winston is pulling me in the direction of home. Thanks for the chat, sweetie. I know things will work out. Somehow.”

  “Keep me posted,” Frankie urged.

  “Will do. Love ya.”

  “Love you, too.” Frankie ended the call and looked around her studio apartment. “Maybe it’s time for a change for all of us.” Bandit jumped on the sofa and sat next to her. “And what about you, mister? You ready for a little brother or sister?” Bandit eyed her curiously. “I know you get lonely, too.” He stretched and put his paw on her lap. The cat had an uncanny way of sensing Frankie’s moods. She grabbed his cheeks and kissed him on the head.

  Chapter Six

  Thanksgiving Week

  Santa Clara, CA

  Amy was relieved when her father told her he wasn’t flying out to visit for Thanksgiving. She had alread
y promised to work at the animal shelter, and trying to entertain her father at the same time would be stressful. Amy loved her dad, but he always wanted to fill his schedule from morning until night, including a good part of the night. It was exhausting. He also told her he was planning a vacation between Christmas and New Year’s Eve since the family unit was no longer intact, and he hoped she didn’t mind. They would plan to visit after New Year’s. Now all she had to do was come up with a really good excuse to avoid her mother and Mr. Charm. She could fly to New Jersey for Christmas, then to Miami, but it didn’t seem worth the trip. Her mother and new boyfriend would be busy with their phony friends at the country club. She’d roll two visits into one big trip back East after her getaway with the others. When? She didn’t know, nor did she really care. She had to admit that she missed her father. Actually, she had missed him most of her life. He would be gone on business trips for up to three weeks at a time. But he always brought her presents from his trips and would scoop her up in his arms and spin her around. Those were some of the happiest times of her life. She began to ponder if his absence was the reason she didn’t have a relationship. Fear of being abandoned, perhaps? She shrugged. “Could be,” she said aloud.

  Amy opened her new suitcase and carry-on. She felt like she was on the verge of a new beginning. It reminded her of getting ready for the new school year. She felt her excitement building, and she had the luggage, clothes, glasses, and hairstyle to meet it head-on.

  She thought about Benji, one of the guys she worked with. He was sweet and supersmart, but there was no chemistry between them. Chemistry. She had majored in the subject in college. Then she had gone to graduate school and incorporated her chemistry background with technology and became a much-sought-after technician in the field of biotechnology. She earned a salary well over six figures and had a generous expense account. On the one hand, she appreciated the financial rewards, but on the other, she felt that many of the ways the company spent its money were lavish and extravagant. She didn’t need a fifteen-hundred-dollar monthly car allowance. Sure, it was a great perk, but even $500 could get her a nice Audi or Lincoln. Multiply that by the dozens of coworkers on the same track, and the company could invest the money in more research, or, God forbid, lower their prices to pharmaceutical companies. Oh, yeah. Those guys.

  She was wondering if she had gotten into the wrong profession. She enjoyed academia but had been encouraged to work in the private sector. That way, she could pay off her student loans in no time. Not that she had all that many. She had received a full scholarship to Stanford University as an undergraduate and was a teaching assistant while working on her master’s degree. She had gotten a small grant while she was working on her PhD, but it didn’t pay for housing, meals, or transportation. If she could do what she really wanted, she would teach at a college or university. It was much more stimulating being around people who had new ideas and the willingness and opportunity to pursue them. Where she currently worked, she had to turn whatever theories were given to her into a consumer end product. Sure, it was challenging to turn an idea into something sellable, but what she had to work with were mostly someone else’s ideas. Not particularly challenging for her creative mind. Working at the animal shelter seemed to give her more satisfaction than her job these days.

  Amy ruminated over the fact that one had to decide on a life plan before turning twenty. Who knows anything at that age? Now she was thirty-three and felt restless. Perhaps the cruise would give her some perspective, and she could plan the next thirty-three years in a more enlightened way.

  She jumped when her phone rang. Hardly anyone ever called. It was mostly text messages. The caller ID indicated it was her mother. She always got the heebie-jeebies when she had to speak to her. Dorothy could be demanding and was often unreasonable. That was another reason why Amy had decided to stay on the West Coast. She wouldn’t have to play the dutiful daughter when her mother was being a socialite. But as Amy matured, it occurred to her that perhaps her mother was insecure. Not having your husband around for most of the time could make a woman feel unloved. Amy always felt the love from her father, but having an absentee husband is a different ball of wax. She almost felt sorry for her mother. She knew that her mother wasn’t in love with Rusty, but he made her feel important. Still, Amy wasn’t keen on the guy. At times, she wished she could be closer to her mother. If not geographically, at least emotionally. Maybe that would come in time.

  Amy hit the ANSWER button on the phone. “Hello, Mother.” Amy put feigned pleasure in her voice.

  “Amy, dear. How are you?”

  “Fine, Mother. And you?” Amy sat down on the futon next to the open suitcase. If she were as small as her cats, she would have crawled into it, too. She wrapped her fingers around Hop-Along’s clubfoot. Hop-Along never seemed to mind. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it, as he gently stretched his paws in return.

  Dorothy let out a small dramatic sigh. “I got a blazing headache at the club this afternoon.”

  “How are you feeling now, Mother?”

  “Better. Thank you. But I would feel even better if you would consider coming home for the holidays. Rusty and I have an announcement to make this coming weekend, and I was hoping we’d have some family time before the year is over.”

  Amy cringed at the thought of her mother marrying the smarmy Rusty Jacobs. He claimed he was related to the wealthy Jacobs family, who owned the Adecco Group in Switzerland. And Switzerland being the tight-lipped country of secret bank accounts, there was no way anyone could verify his claim. Amy thought it odd that he lived in a modest cottage and, to her recollection, had never once picked up the check for dinner. Amy sensed he was a gigolo, but there was no talking to her mother when it came to Rusty. According to Dorothy, “He’s attentive and always by my side.” Yeah, because he’s attached to your purse strings. Amy shivered.

  “Oh, darling, can’t you spare a few days for your dear mother?” Her mother was just short of begging.

  Amy rolled her eyes. And there it is. The guilt trip. “Oh, Mother, as much as I would love to share the holidays with you, I have to be in Miami the next day, and I can’t take off any more days at work,” she lied. The offices were closed the week before and after Christmas. But Amy knew that it would require more than a seven-day cruise to recover from the stress of two days with her mother and smarmy Rusty. Amy had been away from home now for over a decade, and her relationship with her mother was basically cordial. Not all mushy like Frankie and her mom. She wished she could have a mother-daughter conversation about life, men, work, anything.

  “I’m happy for you, Mother. Congratulations. I hope you have the marriage you always dreamed of.” Amy’s stomach was churning.

  “I’m sure your father will be delighted. He won’t have to pay alimony anymore,” Dorothy huffed.

  “Mother, you always had your own money from Grandpa.”

  “Yes, but it didn’t belong to your father. I was entitled to spousal support.” She paused. “According to the courts.”

  Amy thought to herself, then she asked, “What was the name of your divorce attorney? Was it Lloyd Luttrell?”

  “Why on earth do you ask?” Dorothy asked.

  “Rachael Newmark. Her dad fixed her up with someone he described as the best in the state. I thought it might have been the same one. You know, all coming from the same town and country club.” Amy waited for a response.

  “Yes, it was Lloyd Luttrell,” Dorothy said, a rather snotty tone creeping into her voice. “But why does it matter?”

  “Don’t get all defensive on me, Mother. I was simply asking because my friends and I had a conversation about it. No biggie.”

  Her mother gave another huff. “So when will I see my brilliant daughter?”

  Amy winced again. “I’ll have to check my schedule when I’m in the office. There are a lot of new projects coming up in January.”

  Heaving an overly robust sigh, Dorothy broke the silence. “Well, I do hope you’ll find
time to make it to the wedding.”

  Amy thought she was going to puke. “When is it, Mother?” “April. We’re going to honeymoon in Paris.” Dorothy sighed with delight.

  “I’ll be there.” Amy cringed again.

  Of course you are, and I am sure you’re paying for it. Amy’s thoughts veered toward her suspicions of Rusty being a gigolo. She couldn’t help it. Something in her gut was letting her know. “That’s nice, Mother. It will give me time to plan things. You know how the lab can get when we’re under a deadline.”

  Dorothy sighed again. “I know you are doing important work. Well, dear, I hope you have a nice Thanksgiving. We’ll be missing you.”

  Yeah right. Amy knew Rusty wasn’t keen on her. She felt he knew that she knew what he was all about. “I’ll be at the shelter fixing a special dinner for the purrs and pooches.”

  Amy didn’t mind helping to keep the critters safe, clean, and fed. She thought she heard her mother groan. “OK, Mother, I’ve gotta run. Take care and have a lovely Thanksgiving.” She ended the call before having to hear another word about the amazing Rusty.

  Amy let out a big sigh. She needed to switch gears after speaking to her mother. She went into the spare bedroom to survey her wardrobe and accessories. Even though the cruise was a month away, Amy was delighted with her purchases and had laid out all her outfits on the futon in the spare bedroom. Blinky had already beaten her to the suitcase, which was lying open, and he was snoozing comfortably on top of a new pashmina.

  “Hey, you. You don’t have a passport. You can’t go.” He lifted his head, opened his one good eye, then rolled over. “You big goofball.” Hop-Along hobbled into the room to see what the fuss was about. He looked around and saw something new to explore. Amy’s suitcase. Even with one clubfoot, that rascal could jump, and he made himself comfortable on the far side of the open suitcase.

  “Oh, come on, you guys. You’re going to get kitty fur all over my new stuff. You have your own beds.” Amy was almost whining. But after being around cats, she had discovered that no matter how many toys, beds, or scratching posts they have, they will choose a rock from a potted plant to slide on the floor at two o’clock in the morning, or pick the sweater you planned to wear, as their bed. There was no way around it unless you wanted to lock them in a separate room, but for Amy that made no sense and seemed cruel. Why have a pet? She thought about that question for a moment. Having worked at the shelter, she knew the answer. Some people had pets as an accessory, others had pets to torment. She was glad she was on the adoption committee. They would meet once a week and go over the applications, then do a home inspection. It was surprising how many people were turned down. She never approved an application where it indicated they wanted a “working animal.” The stupidity of checking off that box was indication enough that the potential owner had a few dim bulbs in his personal chandelier.