“Do you think I should wear the new shoes, love?” Daphne had three dresses laid on the bed and dangled a pair of shoes from each hand.

In the ensuite, face streaked with shaving cream, John paused and looked at her in the mirror. “Which are the new ones?”

“Left hand.”

“Which dress?”

“I really want to wear my new shoes and then I can pick the right dress.”

With a soft sigh, John turned around. “The new shoes will be perfect.”

“But what if people think that I’m too old for them? They are so high-heeled and I would hate to look foolish.” Daphne frowned.

“Nobody would ever think that, doll. You go ahead and wear them and I guarantee you’ll get some admiring glances.” He wiped his face and wandered out, a towel wrapped around his waist.

“But it is Christie’s night, not mine! Oh dear, maybe I shouldn’t wear them.”

John took the new shoes from Daphne and put them on the bed, then the other pair, which he returned to the closet. “It would seem that you only have one pair, so pick a dress.”

Daphne giggled. “I was being silly, wasn’t I?”

“A little. And a bit excited.” John kissed her cheek. “We’re going to have a lovely evening and you’ve done well to find such a nice gift on short notice.”

“Thank you. I just wanted something those two can take on board Jasmine Sea. Martin is so big on his picnics but I know how tiny the galley is. What could be nicer than catching your own fish and cooking them on your own barbecue?” She picked up one dress and held it against herself. “I can’t believe how small they make those covered grills these days. Perfect for when we go camping.”

“Huh?”

“When we retire. I was thinking about a little caravan.”

“That dress is lovely.” He changed the subject as he returned to the ensuite. “I’m going to have a quick shower, then the bathroom is all yours.”

“Maybe the other dress. Sure, love. We’ve got plenty of time but if we get there early, I can help Elizabeth.”

The shower turned on and Daphne smiled. She was only half joking about the caravan.

***

Christie perched on the side of the yacht, rubbing tired arms. There was no sign of Martin on deck. Purple storm clouds approached. The air almost crackled with humidity and a hot breeze ruffled her hair. So much for having it straightened. The natural wave was already returning.

“Martin, I’m here.” She called from the top of the steps. If it was any other time, there might have been a delightful picnic laid out downstairs. Not on the bed, of course, because Martin didn’t believe in eating in bed. “Shall I come to you?”

Only the seagulls answered, circling around the boat in interest. Are you okay? What if he’d fallen? What if he was laying in the galley unconscious? Christie rushed down the steps.

The galley was empty but a filled ice bucket was on the table. In it, a bottle of champagne. Expensive champagne. Christie turned it in the bucket to be certain. Only last night, she’d told Martin she didn’t like champagne. “Martin! Where are you?”

Christie forced herself to the bedroom and pushed the half door open. It was dark. Trembling so much that she had to try twice, she found the light switch and turned it on.

“Hello, baby. You finally made it.” Back against a pile of pillows, legs sprawled on the bed, feet bare, Derek held out his hand. “Grab the glasses, Chris. We’ve got a lot to celebrate.”