The Summer Sail Read online

Somewhat incongruously, the band began to play “Sweet Caroline,” and Lacey felt a pang of disappointment. How many times would she have to listen to the Beantown tune? she wondered. Weren’t the ship’s passengers more cosmopolitan than that? At least the crew was. She’d already glimpsed name tags of stewards from Hungary, Croatia, Greece, and Spain. A person could practically travel the globe just by walking past the deckhands, which, when she considered it, was pretty cool.

  “Here you go.” Her mom handed Lacey a glass of Diet Coke before hoisting her own glass in the air. “Cheers, honey,” she said with a grin. “Here’s to a fabulous mother-daughter cruise.”

  “Cheers.” Lacey smiled, clinked glasses, and did a little groan inside. At the very least, she thought, the cruise might help take her mind off the fact that she was late. Three days late to be exact.

  Abby allowed herself to breathe. They’d made it. Just in time. Of course, they’d missed the slot when they were supposed to preboard, but nobody seemed to mind. The cruise staff had whisked her and Sam and the boys through check-in as if they’d been expecting them to run late the entire time.

  And now that they’d inspected their cabins—the boys over the moon to have their very own room with a bathroom and a balcony—Abby and Sam stood on the top deck, awaiting the sail away. Lee, Lacey, and the boys had gone down to the pool area to join in the Sail-off/Dance-off competition, and Caroline was at customer service, trying to straighten out matters with Javier’s room key. He’d nearly missed the boat, and in the commotion to get him on, he’d been mistakenly assigned to the wrong cabin. Abby had no doubt that Caroline would set matters straight. That was her specialty, after all. Once in college, when Abby had wanted to drop an astronomy class after the cutoff date, Caroline had marched down to the registrar’s office and demanded that Abby be allowed to switch classes. Caroline was a good friend to have in such times. Reliable, persistent, a charismatic bulldog accustomed to getting her way.

  For the moment, Abby was just grateful that the twins were behaving themselves. Even among teenagers, it appeared that the “third-party rule” still applied—introduce new people to the playdate and suddenly everyone was friends again. Both Chris and Ryan seemed genuinely pleased to see Lacey after all this time. Abby took a deep breath and tilted her face toward the sun, soaking in its warmth. She’d forgotten how much she loved the summertime when the light lingered till eight o’clock most evenings. The longer days were a welcome change from the chilled, rainy spring they’d had. True spring, when the flowers actually bloomed, lasted about one week in Boston.

  Sam wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “Nice view, isn’t it?”

  “Mmm . . . the best.”

  “This will be good for us,” he said. “To get away.”

  “I think so, too,” she agreed.

  More than anything, Abby wanted this trip to be a break for Sam, nine blissful, relaxing days when he could stop worrying about her, about them. They were going to be fine, regardless. So what if life had gotten a little more complicated these past few weeks? They’d been tested before. They would get through this, too. She was sure of it. The wind whipped her hair in front of her face, and she tried to tame it, pulling it behind an ear.

  “I guess I should have worn my head scarf.” She laughed. “Do people wear those anymore?”

  Sam smiled, his eyes crinkling. He never appeared more like the kind professor than when he was smiling. Abby had fallen in love with that smile. “I don’t think so, but you’d look great in one.”

  “You better watch it, honey. Keep buttering me up and you might find yourself a lucky man on this cruise.”

  “Don’t be fresh,” he said and squeezed her. At that moment, the captain’s voice came on over the intercom to announce that they’d be setting sail in a few minutes.

  “Look. They’ve already untied the moorings.” Sam pointed to the front of the boat, where previously a thick, taut rope had held ship to shore. As the ship started to shift ever so slightly, a wave of cheers traveled around the top deck, capped by three boisterous blasts of the horn.

  “And we’re off!” Abby clapped and turned to get a better view of the Boston skyline. “It’s so pretty, isn’t it? All that wonderful architecture. I sort of take it for granted, but when you see it from a distance, it’s breathtaking.” She leaned back into Sam’s arms and watched the handful of people onshore who were waving good-bye. A few carried briefcases, their shirtsleeves rolled up in the summer heat. “Oh, those poor souls,” she lamented. “They all have to go back to work on Monday.”

  Sam tilted his head, studying her. “Should I be worried that my wife seems to take a perverse pleasure in other people’s misery?”

  She laughed. “Not at all. I’ve plenty of misery to share with them, if they’d like.” Sam only squeezed her tighter. He knew exactly what she meant, of course.

  A tugboat pulled up alongside the ship, helping it turn around to face the wide-open sea and sending them sailing past colorful freight containers, piled high like building blocks on the shore. As the boat pulled farther away, Abby turned and wrapped her arms around Sam’s neck, kissing him full on the mouth and surprising them both. His lips tasted salty, like his margarita, but she didn’t mind. For once, she felt content, as if everything would be okay after countless days of worrying and not knowing. Now she knew.

  And with that knowledge came relief, however small.

  3

  When she woke the next morning, Lee was ravenous. Lacey was still sleeping, so Lee dressed quietly in the dark and let herself out of the room to go in search of breakfast and coffee. Definitely coffee. Last night, after dinner and drinks, their gang had retired to their cabins, and Lee had more or less passed out. Which was surprising, given that she typically didn’t sleep well anywhere but in her own bed. But the flight from Charleston and the excitement of seeing her friends had left her drained. Her body felt stiff and creaky, her brain foggy. Coffee, she thought again.

  When she reached the twelfth floor, the savory smells of breakfast greeted her. Her flip-flops squeaked on the cafeteria’s tiled floor, the sound all the more pronounced in the early-morning quiet. Soon, dozens of cruisers would be lining up for omelets and French toast, but right now, the only people awake were the health-conscious, grabbing a glass of juice after a workout, or the health-be-damned, smokers sneaking an early cigarette just beyond the cafeteria doors. Lee helped herself to a generous serving of scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee—and a chocolate muffin for good measure—and planted herself at a table.

  A heavyset woman carrying a tray filled with pastries passed by her. “I’m in my glory now,” she said with a wink. Lee smiled. It was a well-known fact that the buffet was open around the clock, a food lover’s dream. Last night, their entire group had stopped by to investigate and had been overwhelmed by the possibilities. There was an unlimited salad bar (as if anyone would want to eat healthy food on vacation!), a Mexican bar with tacos and burritos, sandwiches of every imaginable combination, a “hot food” selection with fish, roast beef, chicken stir-fry, and three kinds of potatoes. And a dessert island that stretched for miles, including custard tarts topped with caramelized apples and pies bursting with berries. There were brownie bars the size of her fist and a soft-serve ice cream machine where the kids could help themselves. And for the virtuous—a fruit bar.

  One of Lee’s coworkers had warned her that the typical weight gain on a cruise was anywhere from five to ten pounds, which (considering they’d be sailing for a week) seemed both ridiculous and entirely possible. Of course, Lee had been meaning to lose a few pounds before they set sail (when hadn’t she been meaning to?), but then life had gotten in the way. If she’d thought to step on the scale, chances were she would have discovered that she’d even gained a few pounds.

  What she was looking forward to the most, though, even more than the unlimited cookies and brownies, was the luxury of not having to prepare a single meal for an entire week. To her mind, that alone ju
stified the expense of the cruise. For lack of a better expression, Lee was “cooked out.” Every recipe in her recipe box had been tasted and tweaked, and she was sick of trying to come up with flavorful, original dishes. Besides, all Lacey ever did when she came home was pick at her food, and when Lee was by herself there hardly seemed to be any point in cooking at all. Usually, she’d boil pasta, throw on some sauce, and finish it off with a pint of ice cream.

  When Lee had visited Lacey for parents’ weekend in October, she’d found only grapes and a carton of skim milk in her fridge. “Honestly, honey,” she’d teased. “How are you supposed to put on the freshman ten if this is what you’re eating?” Lacey had shot her a look and said, “That’s kind of the point, Mom. I don’t want to put on ten pounds.” Sometimes, Lee worried that her daughter might have an eating disorder, but then she’d spy Lacey enjoying an ice cream cone and would let the worry slide.

  Lee took a bite of her eggs, sipped her coffee. Out the window, she could see the precise line of the horizon where the dark blue of the ocean split a dawning blue sky. She marveled at the color of the water, trying to recall where else she’d seen water so vibrantly blue, and then realized she’d only glimpsed this particular shade in a crayon. Yes, that was it: the water so far out to sea turned a breathtaking Crayola blue. She tried to think where they might be on a map. Perhaps somewhere off the Carolina coast? Soft waves lapped at the boat, rocking it like a child to sleep.

  On the table sat the ship’s bulletin, aptly named The Smooth Sailor, and Lee scanned the day’s list of activities. Bingo. Trivia. A fruit-carving demonstration in the lobby at noon. A basketball tournament on the upper deck at three. The spa was offering a special two-for-one massage. Beyond that, a person could sign up for shuffleboard, check out books from the library, join in poolside games, or escape to a corner where one of several taverns awaited. Later in the day, there was musical theater, a magic show, karaoke. And on and on. The choices were endless, verging on the preposterous. Lee didn’t understand what more people could need than sun, a good book, and pleasant conversation. So many activities struck her as window dressing, daytime soap operas for the unimaginative.

  She shoveled the last bite of eggs into her mouth, swiped her plate clean with a wedge of toast, and drained her coffee. When she rose to clear her tray, a steward magically appeared at her side to take it. “Why, thank you,” she exclaimed, momentarily wondering if she was supposed to tip him. Being treated like a queen, she thought, was certainly something she could get used to.

  On her way out, she spotted Abby waving from across the cafeteria.

  “You’re not leaving, are you?” Abby was already in her bathing suit, the black strap poking out from underneath a pink cover-up. A floppy sun hat dangled from her hand.

  “I was just heading back to the room to change into my suit,” said Lee. “Where’s Sam?”

  “Still sleeping. How about Lacey?”

  “Same.”

  “How did you sleep?”

  “Great. I was exhausted. You?”

  “Like a baby. Sailing is so soothing, isn’t it?”

  Lee nodded. “So far so good. How about I meet you back here in ten minutes?”

  “Perfect.” Abby grinned. “I’ll be the girl sitting in the corner with a pile of waffles and whipped cream. Come find me.”

  When Lee got back to the cabin, Lacey’s head was tucked behind the bedside table. “You have got to be kidding me,” she mumbled.

  “What’s the matter?” Lee asked.

  “Our room has only one outlet for charging?”

  “Oh, I’m sure there are more.” Lee bent down on her hands and knees to peek behind the bureau and beds, but after extensive searching, it appeared that Lacey was correct. Their first full day on the boat, and Lee was beginning to wonder if they were part of some larger science experiment, such as how long could family members remain civil to each other in cramped quarters? If so, providing only one outlet to a room was a great accelerator to the social experiment.

  Lacey sighed and crawled onto the bed. A moment later she held up her phone, waving it in the air. “I don’t know why I even bothered charging it. We’ve officially lost all contact with the rest of the world. Zero bars.”

  “Sorry, honey, but you’re going to have to learn to survive without Wi-Fi for a few days.” Lee tried to sound sympathetic, but she doubted that it came off as genuine.

  “Chris says you can pay to get on the ship’s Wi-Fi system if you want to.”

  “Yeah, and it costs a small fortune. Be my guest, if you’d like. But don’t you dare charge it to our room,” warned Lee.

  Lacey shrugged and tossed the phone down on the bed. “Guess I can manage without it for a few hours.” Lee understood that the cruise presented a formidable challenge for her daughter: Could Lacey survive without being in constant contact with Tyler? It frustrated Lee that the girl whom she’d raised to be a self-sufficient woman was so clingy, so dependent, so needy. What had college done with her daughter? It was as if the young woman she’d sent off freshman year—sweet, idealistic—had been kidnapped and locked in a closet in her dorm room, while this other Lacey was staring back at her from the bed.

  “C’mon,” she said now, swatting Lacey’s foot as she went to pull back the curtains from the balcony window. Sunlight flooded the cabin. “It’s a beautiful day, and you’re already missing out.” Lee cracked open the glass door, letting in a rush of warm air. Last night they’d cranked the air conditioner so that their cabin was now the approximate temperature of a refrigerator. “Abby and I are going to go sit by the pool. Why don’t you join us?”

  Lacey stretched her arms above her head and yawned. “ ’Kay. After I get something to eat. And shower.”

  Lee was about to point out there was no need to shower if Lacey was headed to the pool, but she held her tongue—she didn’t pretend to understand the workings of her daughter’s mind. Instead, she dug into the top dresser drawer for her navy bathing suit from last summer, which had a flouncy skirt that conveniently hid her hips. In the bathroom, she disrobed, banging her elbow on the shower stall.

  “Ouch!” She opened the flimsy bathroom door to give herself a few more inches of room, but when she stepped into her suit, she realized she had bigger problems than her elbow: her suit was stuck halfway up her body.

  “Uh-oh.”

  “What’s wrong?” Lacey called from the other room.

  Lee stepped out of the bathroom and gestured to her body, her boobs protruding from the top, the swimsuit not quite hiding the rolls of tummy fat below. “It doesn’t fit.” Had she really put on that much weight since last summer?

  “Oh, Mom.” Lacey shook her head. “Here, let me help you.” She pushed up from the bed. “How,” Lacey continued, pulling on the strap, “did this possibly fit you last year?” She tugged until finally she got one strap up over Lee’s right arm, leaving only the left to contend with.

  “Hey, we can’t all have teensy-weensy bodies.” Lee tried to think. Maybe she’d dried the suit on hot cycle by mistake and it had shrunk? She couldn’t possibly be bigger than a size 12, could she? She might have put on ten pounds. It was possible. What a cruel irony, though! Her daughter had gone off to college, and Lee had packed on an empathetic freshman ten. She thought back to when she’d been fixing Tom & Jerry drinks for a holiday party, the recipe calling for one pound of butter—or the equivalent of four sticks. Lee did the quick arithmetic in her head: if she had gained ten pounds, then strapped to her very middle-aged body were forty fresh sticks of butter. She moaned.

  “Here, let me get around on your other side,” Lacey was saying as she circled to Lee’s left and tugged again. “Hold your stomach in, Mom.”

  “I am,” Lee said through gritted teeth. Lacey pulled some more, stretching the strap out beyond Lee’s elbow until, like a rubber band, it snapped into place on her shoulder. “Ow!” Lee howled, but Lacey had collapsed on the bed in a fit of giggles. Before she could stop herself, Lee
was laughing, too. She had to admit: it was a little funny. Plus, it felt so nice to be sharing a light moment with her daughter that Lee couldn’t resist, even if it was at her own expense.

  “Just don’t ask me to help you get out of that thing,” said Lacey.

  “I swear it shrunk in the dryer. I have not put on that much weight.”

  “Whatever you say, Mom.”

  Lee batted Lacey in the leg with her beach towel. “I’m leaving. Come join us by the pool when you’re ready.” She stuffed her bag with sunblock, a book, and her room key. When she turned to leave, a flash of scarlet on the bed caught Lee’s eye. She stopped to look. It was Lacey’s teensy red bikini, big enough to cover maybe Lee’s elbow. Lee rolled her eyes and went off in search of her friend.

  When they stepped through the sliding doors to the pool, a blast of heat hit Lee like a slap. The abrupt change in temperature from the air-conditioning inside made her sunglasses fog up, and she had to wipe them on the hem of her cover-up before placing them back on her nose. The air was heavy, thick with humidity. She followed Abby to the pool, where flocks of teenagers were already strategically positioned along its edge. Like birds preening their feathers for mating season, thought Lee. And the amount of bare skin! It was shocking, really. Even the girls in one-piece suits had the middles sliced out, exposing their pale, taut bellies. It made Lee want to spray sunblock all over their perfect little bodies.

  “Let’s check the other side for chairs,” Abby said. Earlier, they’d bumped into Caroline, who’d promised to join them later, which meant they needed at least four chaise lounges. Abby and Lee located two amid the sea of chairs already claimed by passengers. It hadn’t occurred to Lee to pack chair clips to stake their territory poolside, but apparently the more seasoned cruisers already knew this trick. Seat after seat had a towel clipped to it with a fastener that seemed to shout, Taken! A few aisles down, she found two more chairs and scooted them over, making an even four. “There,” she said, triumphant, hands on her hips. “That ought to do us.”