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love to see, but maybe later, when she was in a more festive mood.
    She drew a shuddering sigh.
    Melanie frowned. “You are going, aren’t you? The deadline for reservations is five o’clock.”
    Lifting her shoulders briefly, Annie sat down and rearranged a stack of rubber bands. She glanced at her watch. Four forty-five.
    â€œYou’re not going?” Melanie’s blue eyes widened. “You can’t be serious. At these prices? When would you ever get a seven-day Caribbean holiday at a bargain basement price? We’re talking cheap, Annie. We have a window room—a real window, not a porthole. We can actually look out and see the water. How could you possibly consider not going?”
    Annie shrugged. She wanted to go—the price was great. And though it wouldn’t be the Love Boat, it could be fun and she could sure use the break.
    Venturing into the office, Melanie kicked the door closed, then bent and placed her palms on the desk. “You can’t be serious.”
    â€œAunt Olympia—”
    â€œIs grieving. I understand.” Bending closer, Melanie’s tone gentled. “Invite her to come along. The sea air will be good for her, and getting away from the house where your uncle died will be even better.”
    â€œShe won’t come.”
    And, if the truth be known, Annie wasn’t sure she’d want Olympia along. She loved her aunt and wanted the best for her, but penny-pinching Olympia would be miserable on a cruise, probably groaning the entire time about how much money it cost. And if Olympia was miserable, everyone around her would be miserable, too. Annie closed her eyes, already hearing what her aunt would repeat at least ten times an hour: “That’s what’s wrong with young people today; they don’t know the value of a dollar.”
    No, she might as well go to Heavenly Daze and spend Christmas in the de Cuvier mausoleum, sitting in the chilly parlor watching paint peel. Her friends would thank her for not bringing Olympia along. And she’d save money.
    Caleb would do all he could to inspire a joyful holiday, but Annie knew the effort would be wasted this year. Olympia would immerse herself in grief and Annie would encase herself in self-pity.
    Olympia’s terrier Tallulah would be the only occupant in the de Cuvier house with any spirit at all.
    She looked up and gave Melanie a smile. “I know you’ll have a wonderful time. If it wasn’t so soon after Uncle Edmund’s death, I might reconsider, but I can’t do that to Olympia. The holidays are going to be hard for her this year. I need to be there.”
    â€œBut the price,” Melanie argued. “When will you ever get a deal like this? Think about it, Annie—sun-drenched decks, unbelievable food, towels fashioned into cute little animals, being treated like a queen for seven days and six nights. And this boat will have men on it—good-looking men, tanned, muscled, single men. You have to go.”
    Annie closed her eyes, imagining the strains of Calypso music mingling with the scent of Australian Gold Exotic Blend suntan lotion.
    Balmy sea breezes.
    For seven glorious tomato-free days.
    Her eyelids snapped open. “I can’t.”
    Heaving a sigh, Melanie sank into a nearby chair. “You’re nuts.”
    â€œI know, but I can’t, Melanie. And there’s no sense in asking Aunt Olympia to go because she won’t.” Annie’s thoughts skipped back to the October day she accompanied her aunt to get a mammogram. That would be a walk in the park compared to getting Olympia aboard a cruise ship.
    Melanie wasn’t giving up. “How do you know until you ask? She might be more than willing to get away for a few days. Is money a factor?”
    Annie smothered a laugh. Money was always a factor with Olympia. She took great pains to portray herself as a woman of means, but Annie knew her airs were only an act. For