Page 9 of Honeymoon for Seven

“Nothing. I thought I’d go check with the concierge after you’re settled.”

His mom sighed. “I’m settled. Go ask.”

Nick shook his head. “A few more minutes isn’t going to change anything.”

“What do you need?” Ginnie asked.

His mother sighed. “I suppose if I’m not going to be walking any time soon, my puzzle book and glasses.”

“Which is your room?” Ginnie asked Mrs. Maroney.

“Right there.” Barely lifting her arm, she pointed to the room closest to the balconies.

Taking advantage of Phoebe’s distraction, Ginnie went into the woman’s room and grabbed eyeglasses and a crossword puzzle book from the night table. Her next objective while Nick gathered pillows was ice. Except no refrigerator. Scanning the suite, she spotted an ice bucket. Perfect. She’d lifted the lid, surprised to find the bucket already filled. She’d have loved a plastic bag, but for now, hand towels would do.

Another couple of minutes and Ginnie had the puzzle book and glasses at Mrs. Maroney’s side, and stood next to Nick. “That’s not high enough.”

Nick looked at her as if she’d grown a second head or a third boob or both.

“Her ankle needs to be above her heart and iced on and off every twenty minutes,” she reminded him of what the doctor had said, handing him the ice packs.

His gaze traveled from his mother’s chest to her foot and sighing, he bobbed his head. “Right. One more cushion should do it.”

While Nick finished setting his mother up, Ginnie shifted her attention to Phoebe. Incredibly well behaved, the kid had to be at least a little hungry. On a shelving unit that had been set up as a kitchen counter, she spotted bread and peanut butter. On a whim, she checked the mini bar. Sure enough, Theresa had put jelly in there. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches had to be the American mom’s go to easy meal for little kids on a road trip, and cruises were basically glorified road trips.

By the time Nick had his mother comfortably settled in with her ankle propped up on multiple pillows, Phoebe was happily sitting on the floor by the coffee table, eating her sandwich sections with one hand and her other hand still playing with the cars, oblivious to the ship’s constant movement.

Ginnie was pretty proud of herself. The advantage of coming from a big family was that there was always a little kid around who belonged to someone, and pretty much every member of the family knew how to care for them. Babysitters were always needed and teenage relatives were always available. “What’s Phoebe’s nap time?”

“Usually noon,” Mrs. Maroney replied. “Once she’s done with her sandwich she can be put down. We turn on the sound machine and cover the portable bed and she should sleep for hours.”

“Good sleeper.” Ginnie nodded.

Mrs. Maroney grinned as if Ginnie had just announced the woman’s grandchildren were all prodigies. “All of Theresa’s girls were good sleepers. My daughter read a book. I hated that she put more faith in the book than in me, but the kids have a great sleep routine that works anywhere.”

Ginnie made a mental note to talk to Theresa about what book she’d used. There was more than one cousin in the family who lamented needing a good night’s sleep or a break in their day from infants or young toddlers who didn’t want to nap or sleep at night. Then she should probably find a spare minute to phone her family in case the ship’s situation made the news, but for now, helping with Phoebe and Nick’s mom came first.

While Nick cleaned up Phoebe’s hands and mouth and readied her for naptime, Ginnie called for another bucket of fresh ice. In another few minutes, the new ice bucket was in the mini fridge and Phoebe was down for the count.

“What would you like me to order for you for lunch?” Nick asked his mom.

The woman shook her head. “You know I don’t eat lunch. Not unless I want to gain a few pounds a day.”

The way Nick rolled his eyes, Ginnie had the feeling he and his mother had been reliving an established conversation.

“You two, on the other hand,” his mother continued, “must be starving. See what you can find out about your sister and then get something decent to eat at a sit-down establishment.”

Nick’s lips pressed into a thin line as he considered his mother’s suggestion. “I’d rather not leave you alone.”

“Oh, don’t be silly.” His mother waved him off. “The wheelchair is right here in case I need to see a man about a horse. The bathroom in my room is bigger than the one in my house. I’ll be fine. And if push comes to shove, I can give Phoebe another ride in my lap.”

The way his mother smiled at him, Ginnie saw something that reminded her of her aunt Antonia. Mrs. Maroney could probably handle Phoebe and a few more kids, if she had to, on one leg with her arm tied behind her back.

“Go,” his mother repeated.

“Fine.” Nick took a step in retreat. “But we’ll be back before Phoebe wakes up.”

“Fair enough.” His mother shifted ever so slightly and began working her crossword puzzles. No doubt pleased to have won this round.

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