Page 38 of Fire and Ice Cruise

The last decade working nonstop. It’s nearly word for word what she told me at the falls, and she knows I was standing right there when she said it. Something about that snags in my brain like a thread on a nail. Most people vary the telling a little, especially for a repeat audience. Marina recites hers like a flight attendant pointing out the exits.

“Now that’s called a second act,” I tell her. “And you’re doing it right.”

“Says the woman who moved onto a cruise ship and married a former FBI agent.”

“See?” I bump my shoulder to hers. “I’m an expert.”

Bess snorts. “You stumbled into your second act by accident.”

“The best things in life are accidents,” Nettie says. “Like my first marriage.”

“Your first marriage was a disaster,” Bess is quick to inform her.

“Exactly my point.”

Marina laughs, and I watch her shoulders drop half an inch—the kind of drop that means she’s stopped bracing for impact. Good. That’s the whole point of bringing her on the ship with us.

“Can I ask you ladies something deeply personal and slightly mortifying?” Marina says, and there’s hesitation in her voice.

“Anything,” I say.

She winces. “How do you deal with the hot flashes?”

Nettie cackles. “I stopped wearing anything I couldn’t rip off in under four seconds. The hot flashes started it, but the men on deck nine finished it.”

“And deck nine has never recovered,” Bess adds. “Neither has deck ten.”

We share a laugh.

“I thought menopause was supposed to be gradual,” Marina continues. “Instead, I’m fine one minute and spontaneously combusting the next. Yesterday I had to stick my head in a bucket of ice.”

“You’re basically a geothermal vent at this point,” Bess offers. “Iceland will feel like home.”

“I’ve taken to carrying a handheld fan everywhere,” I admit. “Ransom thinks it’s charming. I think it’s survival.”

“Does it get better?” Marina asks.

“Eventually,” Nettie says. “Or you just get used to feeling like a furnace with legs.”

“That’s comforting,” I say with a sigh.

“I try.”

“You know what I don’t understand?” Bess says. “Why is it always women who have to suffer through this stuff? Wasn’t childbirth and legally shackling ourselves to grown men who don’t act their age enough punishment?”

“Apparently not,” I say. “The universe decided we needed bonus rounds.”

“Men get distinguished gray hair and deeper voices,” Nettie grumbles. “We get night sweats and chin hairs.”

“And hot flashes,” Marina adds.

“And mood swings that could qualify as natural disasters,” Bess says.

“I threw a waffle at Ransom last week because he breathed too loud during our breakfast in bed,” I admit.

Marina’s eyes widen. “Did he deserve it?”

“Probably not. But the waffle did stick to the wall, which was oddly satisfying.”