hint. It wasn’t King George’s.”
My mouth fell open. “The Gordons were at Culloden? No kidding? Bill had relatives who actually fought in the battle?”
“Bill never kids, and he especially never kids about his ancestry.” She offered me an acid smile. “It’s what makes being married to him such a joy.”
“Okay, so Bill is refusing to set foot on the ship because … he’s ticked off about the disappearing act Prince Charlie pulled over two hundred years ago?”
Stella rolled her eyes. “Have you listened to the words coming out of my mouth? He’s not mad at the wuss. He’s mad at the English for slaughtering what remained of the Gordons after the wuss ran away. It was only one of the most brutal acts in military history, and the Looney Tunes Gordons aren’t about to forget.”
Great. Just what we needed to lighten the mood—a guest with a two-hundred-year-old battle ax to grind. “Was Charlie ever caught?”
Stella shook her head. “Hell, no. He hightailed it to France. Spent the rest of his miserable life dithering about which of his many mistresses was the flavor of the month.”
Wasn’t that always the way? The guy responsible for the disaster gets off scot-free while his underlings get stuck with the cleanup. In the popular vernacular, I believe it’s called “Getting the shaft.” On Wall Street, it’s called “Business as usual.”
I shook my head at the unfairness of it all. “Well, I might be totally off base, but if I were a Gordon, I think I might be more ticked off at Prince Charlie than the English. If he hadn’t abandoned his troo—”
“The Gordons looove Prince Charlie,” Stella cooed. “Doesn’t matter that he was a screwup. He was Scottish. The last Prince in the line of Royal Stuarts. In their eyes, he could do no wrong.” She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “It’s because of that clan nonsense with the blood and the allegiances and all the other blah, blah, blah. Turns ’em into fanatics. So I’ll give you a word of warning.” She stepped closer and bowed her head close to my ear. “Never, ever, belittle Prince Charlie when you’re around Bill. He has a teensie problem with his temper, and cheap shots about his hero really set him off.”
“How teensie?”
“Pills help, when he remembers to take them.”
Oh, God. Prickly heat crawled up my neck. “Uh—Did you happen to mention Bill’s … problem … on the medical history form we sent with your travel documents?”
“Shoot, we never fill those things out. Pain in the butt. We just leave ’em blank so you’ll think we’re healthy.”
My jaw dropped to my chest. “But all our guests are required to fill out medical forms. It’s absolutely mandatory. No exceptions.”
“Sorry. No can do. Our medical history is none of your business. You ever heard of privacy laws?”
“But what if you’re walking around with serious health issues? What if you’re allergic to bee stings, or shellfish, or peanuts?” I made a calculated leap to worst-case scenario. “What if you go into anaphylactic shock and die before I can figure out what’s happening?”
Stella bobbed her head with indifference. “Same warning. If the Gordon clan shows up for my funeral, pass the word along not to say anything unflattering about Prince Charlie. That temper thing? It’s hereditary.”
_____
I found Nana on the veranda deck, posted in front of the glass partition that provided an interior view of the Queen’s bedroom. “Is Bill Gordon on your team?” I asked as I perused the narrow starboard compartment with its modest twin bed and homespun furnishings.
She held up a finger to “wait a sec” as she concentrated on the voice speaking on her audiophone. “Well, I’ll be,” she marveled when the tape ended, her mouth hanging open in awe. “When the Queen packed up for an official visit, she brung five tons of luggage with her. Can you imagine? I don’t got five tons of stuff in my whole apartment. No wonder she didn’t go by plane. She never woulda cleared security in time. I’m sorry, dear, what was your question?”
“Bill Gordon. He’s on your team, right?”
“Yup. He’s one a them birthers.”
“He’s the birther?” I winced. “Great. Is he causing problems?”
“Not for me, but if George ever gets a notion to run for President, he better watch out, on account of Bill says Farkas don’t sound like a real American name.”
“What kind of name does he think it sounds like?”
“One that don’t got a real birth certificate.”
“Well, Stella Gordon just finished talking to me