Second Honeymoons Can Be Murder (A Baby Boomer Mystery Book 6) Read online

  “Honestly, Carol, you really are the limit. I wasn’t criticizing you. I was merely mentioning that you have a fear of being enclosed in a small space. Like elevators, for instance. You’re much too sensitive.”

  “I just felt I should clarify what you were talking about,” I said in my own defense. “Besides, this is no tight place. We could fit the entire neighborhood in this cabin.” A brief picture of Phyllis and Bill Stevens flashed into my mind. “Not that I’d want to really bring the neighbors. I love Fairport, but it’s nice to get away for a change. I’m glad we’re having a new adventure together.”

  My husband leaned over, squeezed my knee and said, with a leer, “I’m looking forward to having some tried-and-true adventures while we’re in Florida.”

  I swatted his hand away. “Jim, stop that. Someone will see us.”

  “Don’t be silly, Carol. Lucy and Ethel don’t care. Neither do Nancy and Charlie. They’re too busy talking.”

  I leaned down and gave the snoozing canines a scratch on their heads, then turned in my seat and checked out my BFF. True to form, she was jabbering away with our host, whose eyes had once again taken on that glazed look. I figured it had been a long time since he’d heard so many words coming out of a single mouth in such rapid fire delivery. He started to get up, but Nancy laid a hand on his arm. “And do you remember…?”

  Charlie laughed and sat down again. Well, that explained what they were talking about—our old grammar school class, not the casting of The Second Honeymoon Game. I needed to remind Nancy at the first opportunity that she was only along on this trip as a guest, not as an official member of the television show production team. That was my role. Oh, and Jim’s. Of course.

  “Did you let Mike know about our trip” I asked. “What did he say? Will he be able to sneak in a trip from Miami to the Gulf Coast to see us? He always seems so busy.”

  In fact, Mike had yet to respond to my own late-night text about our Florida trip. I didn’t tell Jim that, though. In fact, lately it seemed that Mike was even less forthcoming about his life than usual. I was hoping he was more upfront with his father. Male bonding and all that stuff.

  I frowned. Perhaps you lean on Mike too much, Carol. He’s not a kid anymore. He doesn’t have to report to you on his every move. He’s a successful business owner. An adult. Try treating him like one for a change.

  “I didn’t get much of a response,” Jim admitted. “He said, ‘Cool.’ That was it.”

  “Did you suggest our getting together?” I persisted. Honestly, sometimes men have to be spoon-fed like children even if, chronologically, they’re supposed to be adults.

  Jim shook his head. “No. I figured I couldn’t until we had more of an idea what our schedule will be. And how long we’ll be staying.”

  “As excited as I am to be getting away for a while,” I said, “I felt really guilty leaving Jenny and Mark. It’s much too soon to see how long Mark will be home convalescing after his accident. I’m worried that Jenny will need my help, and I won’t be there for her. She depends on me.”

  “I’m sure Jenny and Mark will be fine without your assistance, Carol,” Jim countered. “In fact, it’s good for them to be totally on their own. They’re a young married couple, and I’ve often thought that we see too much of them on a regular basis. Like having dinner together every Sunday night. We need to loosen the apron strings.”

  Jim’s comments stung. “You mean, I need to loosen the apron strings, since I’ve never seen you put on an apron. For your information, Mr. Smarty Pants, Jenny and I are very close and we enjoy each other’s company. That hasn’t changed, even though she’s now a grown-up married woman. And Mark has no close family anymore, in case you’ve forgotten. They want to spend time with us.” Me.

  Jim raised his eyebrows. “Okay, Carol. Maybe you’re right. But I was just thinking back to the early days of our marriage. You resented it when my mother insisted that we spend every single holiday with her, no matter how inconvenient it was for us.”

  “That’s not the same thing, at all,” I shot back. At least, I hoped it wasn’t.

  “Look at it this way,” my husband suggested gently. “Maybe without us old fogies around for a while, Jenny and Mark will have more of an opportunity to work on that special project you’ve been dreaming about.”

  “What project?”

  “The one that you pray for every night. Grandchildren.” He settled back in his seat with a satisfied smile and changed the subject.

  “Who would have thought a week ago that we’d be on a private jet heading to Honeymoon Island in Florida?” he asked. “Certainly, not me.”

  “Honeymoon Island?” I squeaked. “You’re kidding. Is that where we’re going? I had no idea. All Charlie said yesterday was that we’d be landing at the St. Pete-Clearwater Airport. Where the heck is Honeymoon Island? What is it? Some sort of destination wedding place? We’ve already done that one, remember? On Nantucket, last December for Jenny and Mark’s wedding.”

  I have to confess that I have mixed feelings about that wedding. Don’t get me wrong—I was thrilled that Jenny and Mark finally realized that they were meant for each other. Something I had known since the long-ago days when they were in the same grammar school class. But the wedding had its shares of ups and downs, to put it mildly. Especially for the poor wedding planner that Jenny had insisted on hiring. Perhaps some of you remember that. If not, I’ll fill you in another time.

  Jim, wise man that he was after so many years of marriage, allowed me the opportunity to wind down and take a breath without interrupting me.

  Note to self: This might be a good practice for me to emulate. Sometime…in the far distant future.

  “I’m surprised Charlie didn’t tell you more about our Florida destination,” Jim said. “Mack gave me all the details at yesterday’s meeting.” He rummaged in his ever-present briefcase and came up with a computer printout. “Here’s some information about Honeymoon Island. You might want to read up on it before we land.”

  I whipped out my no-line bifocals so I could read without squinting. I never was good at retaining information the first time around. When I was cramming for exams back in school, it always took me hours and hours to make anything stick in my memory.

  I have trouble reversing directions when I’m driving, too. Which is one reason why I let Jim do most of the driving on long trips. I know I should learn how to program a GPS, but I’m completely non-mechanical, and even if we had one in the car, Jim would constantly disagree with it and we’d probably end up getting lost anyway.

  Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Honeymoon Island. Here’s what Jim printed off the website. You may as well read it, too.

  Florida’s Honeymoon Island State Park

  Honeymoon Island State Park is a destination for sun-sand-and-surf lovers along the Gulf of Mexico. Located on southwest Florida’s barrier island chain and an easy drive from Dunedin, Clearwater, Tampa, and St. Petersburg, the island is reachable by following state road 586 over Causeway Boulevard.

  History of Honeymoon Island

  First mapped none-too-imaginatively as Sand Island and later given the less-elegant moniker, Hog Island (for a farm that came and went), Honeymoon Island got its current name in 1939.

  To raise awareness of the area, New York developer Clinton Washburn purchased the island in 1939 for $30,000, and to attract newlyweds to the 50 thatched-roof villas he erected, he convinced Life magazine and other media to publicize a contest, with the winners overnighting there—thus, the sandy stretch picked up its new name.

  Fascinating stuff. When I read a little further, I found out that many couples choose to marry and have their wedding receptions on Honeymoon Island. The park even offered a wedding planning service. That certainly explained why we were going to shoot the pilot of the television show there.

  I had a brief moment when I thought I should share this information with Nancy. But when I turned around to see if she was still in her seat, I saw she was now cudd
led against Charlie’s shoulder, sound asleep. I squelched a brief pang of jealousy. After all, Charlie was my old sort-of boyfriend and my new boss, and here Nancy was, intruding on my trip and cozying up to him. Some nerve.

  I was about to walk toward them and start a conversation with Charlie when Jim pulled me back. “Look, Carol,” he said, gesturing out the plane window, “I think those are palm trees down there. We must be in Florida.” Sure enough, I could see the palm trees, myself, and I forgot all about my petty jealousy. Yes, sometimes I can behave like an adult.

  I grabbed the dogs’ leashes for safety, then clung to Jim’s arm. “I feel like we’re getting lower. I hope that means we’re near the airport and not that the plane has developed a problem.” Departures and landings always freak me out, too. A therapist could have a field day with me and all my fears, real and imaginary. If I ever let the therapist get a word in edgewise, which I probably wouldn’t.

  I was in the middle of fervent prayers to whichever saint was in charge of airplanes when someone touched my shoulder, startling me. Yikes! It was our host. And boss.

  “Time to put on seat belts,” Charlie said. “And Lucy and Ethel have to go back in their safety harnesses. FAA regulations. We’ll be landing in about five minutes.”

  Lucy growled a bit when I disturbed her. “Sorry, Luce, but this is for your own protection.” Ethel, of course, submitted without an argument. Although I did catch her giving me a dirty look.

  I settled back, my seat in an upright position and my seat belt securely fastened around my middle. I shut my eyes and began praying again. I hoped my personal protector didn’t think I was being selfish by coming back with the same petition again and again.

  Jim squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry, Carol. We’ll soon be on the ground and you can relax. Just take deep breaths. It’ll all be worth it. I promise.”

  The next thing I knew, the plane had landed safely (I was certain it was through the intervention of my personal saint) and taxied to a stop. Eureka! We were in Florida and about to embark on a great adventure.

  “Lead on, Jim,” I said, releasing the dogs from their harnesses and clipping on their matching Lilly Pulitzer pink and green leashes. “We’re right behind you. Let the fun and surprises begin! I can hardly wait.”

  Well, I didn’t have to wait long. Walking out into the brilliant Florida sunshine hurt my eyes so much that I was squinting. But not so much that I couldn’t make out a man and woman across the tarmac, holding up signs that read, “Welcome to Florida, Jim and Carol!” At first glance, I thought it was someone from The Second Honeymoon Game team. Then I blinked and realized it was Claire and Larry McGee.

  And, standing right next to them, waving a sign which read, “Welcome to Florida, Mom and Dad,” was our darling son, Mike.

  Chapter 23

  The only normal people in the world are the ones you haven’t met yet or don’t know very well.

  I screamed. Well, wouldn’t you have done the same thing? It had been over a year since I’d seen my only son. Letting go of the dogs’ leashes in my excitement, I raced to my son and held him tight, tears streaming down my face. I didn’t want to let go. Ever.

  “Hey, Mom, take it easy,” Mike said, hugging me back. “You may break something I’ll need someday.”

  I felt a tap on my shoulder, and turned to see an airport attendant holding onto Lucy and Ethel’s leashes. “I believe you dropped these, ma’am,” he said. “You certainly don’t want to lose these two.”

  “Thank you so much,” I said, grabbing the leashes and wrapping them around my wrist for extra security. “I was just so excited to see my son again. It’s been a long time.”

  “Hey, son, good to see you,” Jim said, clapping Mike on the back in lieu of giving him a hug. The macho code of acceptable behavior between fathers and sons frowns on mushy gestures of affection, like hugging. Thank goodness it doesn’t apply to mothers!

  Lucy and Ethel could hardly contain their excitement at seeing Mike. They jumped up and down, begging for his attention until he sat down on the tarmac and gathered them both up in his arms. The dogs covered his face with sloppy kisses, practically knocking him flat. I didn’t blame them. I wanted to do the same thing. The kissing part. Not the knocking flat part.

  “Hey, girls, how are you? I missed seeing you last year.”

  I stepped back and surveyed my handsome son as he rose effortlessly to his feet. “You look like you’ve lost some weight,” I said. “Are you eating enough? I hope we’ll be staying at a place with a real kitchen, so I can whip you up some of your old favorite meals and put some pounds back on you. You’re too thin. What do you want for supper tonight?” I frowned. “There better be a grocery store near where we’re staying. I have food shopping to do.”

  Jim snorted. “Relax, Carol,” he said. “We’re supposed to be here on a working vacation. Let Mike have some space.”

  Never! At least, not right away.

  I reached up and touched my son’s face. “What’s up with the stubbly look?” I asked, ignoring my husband. “The stubble hides your handsome face. I like the clean-shaven look much more.”

  Mike moved back from me. It was just a few inches, but for a mother like me it might as well have been a mile.

  Oops. You’re doing it again, Carol. Smothering your son, who is now a full-grown man, just in case you hadn’t noticed. It’s high time you started to treat him like one.

  The old me, feeling rejected by my son, would have immediately burst into tears. The new me—less emotional, more rational (yeah, right!)—took a different, more adult tact. At least, I tried to. I hope I get points for effort.

  “Sorry, sweetie,” I said. “My maternal gene kicked in and I couldn’t control it. Your new look just…surprised me, that’s all. But I like it. I really do.”

  Mike laughed. “I know you’re trying to convince yourself, Mom. You’ll get used to it. Besides, the chicks love it.”

  “I just hope your father doesn’t try to imitate you,” I said. “He tried growing a beard on vacation years ago and it looked awful.” I wrinkled my nose at the memory. “Don’t give him any ideas.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Jim chimed in. “I promise to shave every morning while we’re in Florida. After all, we’re here on our second honeymoon. Sort of. I want to keep you happy.”

  “Yeah, what exactly is going on? Your text didn’t make much sense,” Mike said. “And how’d you manage to arrive in such style?” He waved his hand in the direction of the private jet. “That’s some fancy ride you hitched.”

  “We’re here to produce the first episode of a television game show,” I explained.

  Jim, of course, immediately corrected me. “We’re not here to produce the show,” he said. “My old boss, Mack Whitman, recruited me to do the marketing for a television show aimed at Baby Boomers. The pilot episode is being shot here in Florida, and I was able to convince him to hire your mom to be my assistant on the project.”

  “But it didn’t exactly work out that way,” I interrupted. “I’m now the special assistant to the show’s executive producer, Charlie King. We arrived in his private plane. Pretty cool, right?” I tried not to look smug. I failed.

  “I want you to meet him,” I said, grabbing Mike by the arm. “It turns out that he and I went to grammar school together. Can you believe it? And we’ve reconnected after all these years. Now, where did he go?” I scanned the tarmac and saw Charlie laughing and joking with Nancy, Claire and Larry. (Well, not Larry. Being a lawyer, he rarely laughs, much less shares jokes.) Nancy was hanging onto Charlie’s arm like she was glued to him.

  “That’s Charlie King over there,” I said. “Come on, I’ll introduce you. I also need to say hello to Claire and Larry.”

  Jim excused himself, citing doggie responsibilities. “Lucy and Ethel have been cooped up for several hours. They need a good walk. You two go ahead. We’ll catch up with you in a little while.”

  “Who’s the hottie standing next to M
r. King?” Mike asked as we made our way across the tarmac.

  “What? You mean you don’t recognize Claire and Nancy?” I laughed. “It hasn’t been that long since you’ve seen them.”

  “No, Mom,” Mike said. “Be serious. I’m talking about the brunette on King’s other side. The one in the white shorts with the great legs.”

  “Oh, you mean Carrie. That’s Charlie’s daughter. She works with her father on his television projects. I just met her the other day.”

  Although she’s heard about me ever since she was born. I didn’t really add that part, of course.

  Claire threw her arms around me like she hadn’t seen me in years. “Are you surprised to see us? I couldn’t believe it when Nancy texted me yesterday about being on this television show. I’m so excited! Larry is, too. Aren’t you, honey?”

  The lawyer in question managed a small smile and nod of the head. I had never seen him so demonstrative before. “It’s nice to see you, Carol,” he said. “Where’s Jim?”

  I returned Claire’s hug, and shot Nancy a glare. If she thought she’d suddenly become The Second Honeymoon Game casting director, she had another thing coming. Claire and Larry would only make their television game show debut on my recommendation, not Nancy’s.

  “Jim’s walking Lucy and Ethel,” I said to Larry. “They needed their exercise after the plane ride. Charlie was kind enough to allow us to bring the dogs along on this business trip.”

  Charlie beamed. “They’re very special canines, for sure. Maybe we can figure out a way to get them on the television show, too. Carrie, what do you think about that?”

  I suddenly received a poke in my ribs from my darling son and realized I had committed a social gaffe. “My goodness, where are my manners?” I exclaimed. “Charlie, this is our son, Mike. He owns the most successful and ‘in’ restaurant in Miami, Cosmo’s. You’ve probably heard of it. It’s in South Beach.”

  Okay, I was laying that on a little thick. But hey, I’m his mother. Gushing is my right, right?