Hula Done It - By Maddy Hunter Page 0,9

ESCORT CRACKS TUSCAN CRIME-WAVE."

The last big human-interest story in our local paper had been entitled, UNDEFEATED FIVE-YARD DASH CHAMP VOWS "I'LL BE BACK!" It was a gripping account of Bernice Zwerg's bunion surgery and had kept readers on the edge of their seats until the very end. The buzz at the local Farm and Fleet was, Pulitizer.

Tilly's brow lifted in admiration. "A feature article about Emily? I must have missed it. When did it appear?"

Nana shrugged. "It didn't. Folks decided she ruined her credibility with all her second-guessin', so they interviewed Dick Teig and done an article on Italian couture for the plus-size male instead."

We were in the bowels of the ship, in a twelve - foot - by - twelve - foot room painted igloo white and lit by overhead pillow lights so glaringly bright that I was glad I was wearing sunblock. Chairs of chrome and white leather lined the walls. A tidy reception desk dominated the room. Pamphlets on seasickness, respiratory illnesses, and UV rays hung in plastic pockets on the wall, right next to dozens of heavy-duty white paper bags that looked suspiciously like the ones the airlines stash in their seat pockets for motion sickness. Geesch. There certainly were a lot of them.

"Is there candy in that dish?" Nana asked, nodding toward a glass bowl on the reception desk. She pinched her eyes shut. "You look, dear. I can't handle the suspense."

I wandered over. "Skittles," I called back to her.

She sighed her disappointment. "They got any blue ones?"

"I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting!" A middle-aged woman dressed in nurse's whites rushed through the door from the treatment area. "We usually only get this backed up when the seas are high and the decks are awash." Folding her hands at her waist, she took a deep breath, tilted her head to the side, and gave us a benevolent smile. "Now, what seems to be the problem today?"

I mimicked the head tilt and returned her smile. "Would it be possible for us to see Bailey Howard?"

"Are you family?"

"We're part of her...cruise family," I improvised. "We're the people who helped her right after the incident happened. We're pretty concerned about her."

"The good Samaritans. I'm so happy to meet you." She clasped each of our hands in a warm welcome. "I've given Bailey a mild sedative to calm her down, but no one feels calm in a health facility. I expect the best medicine for her right now would be some sympathetic company who'd sit down and hold her hand for a while." She wagged her forefinger at us. "You wait right here. I'll see if she's up for visitors."

As I waited, my attention kept drifting to the motion sickness bags hanging on the wall. Unlike the lifeboat situation on the Titanic, there looked to be more than enough bags for everyone, but I certainly hoped we didn't have to use them. Two thousand sick people would never fit into this infirmary.

Nana pulled out her cruise ship itinerary. "You s'pose this incident with the professor is gonna affect our schedule? If we don't get to Kauai in time to do that zodiac raft ride along the Na Pali coast tomorrow, that'd be a real shame, 'cause they say it's like ridin' the waves on a waterbed. I always wanted to try out one a them waterbeds. But I s'pose we can sign up for somethin' else."

The cruise line offered so many island excursions that my group hadn't been able to agree on just one or two, so we'd decided to split up to sample a wide range of what was being offered. I suggested that when we returned to Iowa, we all write short articles describing our individual adventures, which I could use in a travel newsletter I'd distribute to all the bank's customers as a promotional tool. Everyone had thought it was a great idea except Bernice, who threatened to hold out until we talked "royalties."

"What are you signed up for tomorrow, dear?" Nana inquired.

"The kayak adventure." I'd kayaked on Lake Mendota when I'd attended the UW, and I was looking forward to wielding a paddle again.

After a few minutes the nurse returned and motioned us into the inner sanctum. "Bailey wants to thank you for your help. Follow me, would you?"

We trooped down a whitewashed corridor ablaze with incandescent light. Muffled voices floated out to us from behind examining rooms to our left and right, and at the end of the corridor, in a room