Getting Old is the Best Revenge (20 page)

When we stop at the statue of Ponce de Leon, Evvie asks with a sigh, "Why didn't he ever tell us where that Fountain of Youth was?" That's a sentiment we all share.

Finally, with feet hurting and stomachs grumbling, we let Amy lead us down De la Cruz Street to a charming little restaurant called Spanglish.

The inside is small, two rooms, but very inviting. The owner is there with his wife and mother and his adorable children. Everyone makes us feel very comfortable, even though the Puerto Rican menu on the blackboard is intimidating. But the wonderful smells relax us.

We are sitting at our table in the front room, drinking sangria and listening to our waiter translate the food choices, when I hear someone calling, "Gladdy Gold. Can I believe my eyes? Is that you?"

All of us turn to look through the doorway into the second room, where a familiar figure in black is making her way toward us, pushing her walker ahead of her.

It can't be--but it is! Angelina Siciliano! And right behind her is the fearful Mr. Macho himself, Elio!

For a moment, we are all speechless. Then Elio laughs. "You broads still following us?"

Evvie quips back, "Maybe you're following us."

Our waiter quickly pulls up two more chairs and seats them. With that, we practically fill the entire front room.

Everyone is talking at once, trying to figure how this could be. The Sicilianos are on their second honeymoon; Angelina reminds me that she told me about it. With that she reaches over and gives Elio a sloppy, wet kiss and Elio wipes it off, embarrassed. "All because of you girls," Angelina says, almost kittenish.

"Yeah," Elio growls at us. "She never leaves me alone. I liked it better when she hated me."

"And we entered a bingo contest," Evvie explains.

"And won a cruise. On the
Heavenly,
" Ida adds.

"No!" says Angelina in surprise. "We're on the same ship."

The same ship. What a coincidence! Evvie and I exchange glances. We introduce the Sicilianos to Amy, then we chat about what sights to see, and we agree to meet them tonight for cocktails at Elio's favorite hangout on board, the Devil's Own Bar.

They take their leave of us and, for a moment, we sit, still stunned.

"How about that." Ida states what we're all thinking. "How amazing!"

But despite my best intentions, the word "coincidence" stays in my head. Is it?

Amy is right, El Morro Fort is truly magnificent. This stone edifice is compared in historical importance to the Great Wall of China and the Pyramids of Egypt. Just standing inside it awes one with its power. Amy, our history buff, states that it was built in 1540 to protect the city from sea attacks. Four hundred and sixty-five years ago and it's still standing! It has six levels, a height of 140 feet, and walls twenty feet thick--at one time it had more than 450 mounted guns.

We move from one parapet to another, looking through the large openings that used to contain cannons. The water views are gorgeous. We can even see our cruise ship waiting for us in the harbor.

But what is most awesome is the drop from these openings down to the roiling seas.

Ida won't go anywhere near the edge of any of them. The view gives her vertigo. The adventurous Bella and Sophie do so, but take turns by holding on to one another's sleeves. Evvie and I keep a respectful distance.

Bella and Sophie are impatient. We only have a little bit of time to shop.

Ida agrees. She saw a children's shop where she wants to find something for her grandchildren. No one comments that her ungrateful children won't appreciate it.

"Well," says Evvie, "there's actually a Walgreens. I need some moisturizer."

"And a Ben and Jerry's," Sophie adds eagerly.

I shrug. I might as well go to that tempting bookstore I passed earlier.

"I think I'll stay," Amy says. "I want another look around, and maybe go back to the fort's gift shop. I didn't get much time to visit last trip."

With much pointing at our individual maps, we decide to separate, and with many reminders, we agree to meet back at the ship a half hour before the time we're supposed to be there, which is three o'clock sharp.

As we head down the long hill toward the center, I tell them once more, "Do not be late!"

"Yeah, yeah!"

That doesn't encourage me. I will worry until I see every one of their silver hairs.

I wave to Amy, who also waves as she heads back into the fort.

I am the first to return to the ship, and I listen to the sounds of the charming band concert going on in the little park a few feet away. There are many palm trees, and the listeners relax in their shade while children play in the grass. So peaceful, so pretty. Passengers move past me to board the ship, smiling at the musicians as they go by. I look at my watch. Two-forty.

One by one the girls meander back with their loot. Thank God, they are all here. We start to walk inside, our shore passes in our hands.

"Wait a minute," I ask, "where's Amy?" We turn and stare back down the tree-lined pathway leading to the ship. I see a couple of stragglers hurrying.

But it turns out I was right to worry, because I don't see Amy.

34

But Not Going Aboard

M
aybe you're worrying for nothing," Sophie

says. "She still has four minutes."

"She would have been here on time. I just feel it in my bones that something's wrong." Despite my promise to myself, I can't ignore these instincts.

We are standing about six inches away from the gangplank and a few stragglers are hurrying past us. A large man pushes Ida aside in his hurry. She instinctively swats his back, but he doesn't stop. We also spot the MC from the huge afterdinner shows, and Greg and Polly, the couple from Green Bay, Wisconsin. I know the girls are torn. They want to get on the ship, but they don't want to leave me.

"We are pulling up in three minutes," one of the nearby sailors informs us in a tightly controlled voice.

"We have to wait," I say.

By now, other crew members have gathered. Passengers on the upper decks are looking down at us, sensing the anxiety in the air.

I look frantically in all directions for some sight of Amy, but no luck.

"We have rules--" begins the same sailor.

"I don't want to hear the rules." It's hot, with no breeze. I'm sweating. From the heat or from worry, I'm not sure.

I can see one of the crewmen on the phone speaking rapidly to someone, probably the captain.

"Madam," the mate, or whatever he's called, says, "if she does not get here on time, your friend will just have to manage on her own. She can always take a plane home."

"May I?" asks another sailor, a kinder one. "After we leave, we will call the shore police and have them look for your friend."

I do not want to hear this. "And I'm telling you there is no way she'd miss this ship unless something happened to her."

"She would never," Evvie adds, trying to help.

Ida says frantically, "Look, there are others coming."

I turn quickly, hoping.

"Hey," calls Judy, "it's the Fort Lauderdale gang. Wassup?"

I can't believe it. Here come the Bingo Dolls, strolling as if they had all the time in the world.

Judy pokes Rose. "I told you your watch was slow!"

"It's never wrong," says Rose. She looks at her watch. "It's two forty-five."

Judy pokes her again. "That's what you said fifteen minutes ago."

"It's exactly three o'clock right now," Evvie tells her.

"Oops," says Rose sheepishly.

The sailors urge them along. "This is final call, ladies. Please step up."

The Dolls walk up the gangway quickly, taking out their passes as they do. They look back at us. "Aren't you coming?"

"We're expecting a friend and she's not here yet," says Bella.

"They have to wait for her," Judy assures us. "We're paying customers."

"We tried that. They won't." Bella is near tears. "Not for one person."

"Hey, hold on! I'm coming!" yells a voice down the path. We turn again, and I hear Bella sigh, "Ooooh."

And Sophie adds, "It's dreamboat!"

"Roberto. Our cha-cha teacher!" Bella croons.

As he gets closer I can see that the object of their ardor really is gorgeous. Fortyish. Wearing a big Mexican sombrero and some sort of early western outfit. Sunglasses that make him look even sexier. A smile that dazzles. A face that could launch this ship and the proverbial other thousand. He looks at Bella and Sophie, puzzled. "Something going on, pretty ladies?"

They melt. Each of them grabs an arm. "We're waiting for our friend and she hasn't come back."

Bella adds, "They're gonna lock her out. Help us."

Sophie quickly introduces Roberto around.

Need I say all the women are agog?

I think cynically, I suppose if a man's in charge . . . But any port in a storm, I joke to myself. Let him handle it.

But even Roberto can't move immovable objects. He shrugs. "Listen, the ship doesn't actually pull out until four. You can watch from above until she arrives."

Evvie answers him. "They made it very clear, once past three they don't let anyone else on board."

"Believe me, they'll have to let her aboard. They'll be annoyed, but they will."

"Okay. That's it. We've been very patient." The sailor is losing his cool. "Now!"

Ida and Evvie scurry up the gangplank, as Sophie and Bella, still clutching Roberto, hurry behind them.

"Glad!" Evvie says. "Come on."

All of the crew is now at the top of the gangway ready to pull it in or up or whatever it is they do.

I step farther back away from the ship. I can't believe I'm actually doing this.

I cross my arms. "Then you leave with two people on shore. I am going to find her."

"Oh, my God!" says Rose. "She's jumping ship."

Nobody moves for a moment. Nobody speaks.

Then my stalwart sister, Evvie, runs back down and stands next to me, imitating my posture. "Make that three."

Ida, quick on the take, doesn't wait a second. She's out, too. "How about four?"

Sophie and Bella tug at Roberto. "Please," says Sophie, "you gotta help us."

"But I'll lose my job . . ."

"You just gotta," pleads Sophie.

"If it was
your
mother?" Bella begs.

Neither woman will let go of his arms. "How can I say no?" he says, leading them out past the startled crew. "I can never resist a pretty face, let alone
two
pretty faces."

I expect them to swoon. But at least we have someone young on our side. I'm beginning to see that as a distinct advantage. Maybe now they'll stop taking us old ladies for granted.

The Bingo Dolls look at one another. They don't need words. They're down in a flash. One of the crew tries to grab at them, but misses.

"Wait for us!" Greg and Polly, the Wisconsin couple, exchange glances and hurry down to join us. Today they're wearing green Packers tank tops and matching shorts and socks.

Now we are standing there, eight women, one male football fan, and one Roberto, whose adoring dance students grin lopsidedly up at him.

"Hot damn," says Rose. "This is more exciting than winning at bingo."

"Not quite," says Judy, who obviously lives for her game.

For once the crew is dumbfounded. This has never happened before. Old ladies not obeying their orders.

I take out the receipt I have from Spanglish and write a quick note on the back. To the astonishment of my fellow deserters, I run back and throw the piece of paper at the sailors.

As I turn, I call out, "Phone those numbers. One's my boyfriend, an ex-cop, and the other is my possible future son-in-law--he's still a cop. They'll vouch for me. Tell them the Gladdy Gold Detective Agency is on the job!"

I hear applause from the upper decks and shouts of "bravo" from the bandstand area. But it's not for the band, it's for
Los Desperados.
Or is it
Las Desperadas
? Plus
dos hombres.

35

The Search

W
e are at the cab stand. There is only one taxi