Page 86 of Fire and Ice Cruise

“Now that’s a priority system I can support,” Nettie announces.

The music kicks back in with something fast and danceable, and bodies flood the dance floor in record time.

Ransom pulls me aside as the waitstaff start cutting the cake and his hand is warm around mine. “I have something for you.”

“You already gave me breakfast in bed and solved a murder with me. That’s plenty.”

“It’s never plenty.” He pulls a small velvet box from his jacket pocket, the fancy sort that makes your heart skip even when you’ve been married for years, or months.

I open it and a diamond tennis bracelet catches the light from a thousand chandeliers, sparkling almost as bright as those birthday candles. It’s elegant, understated, and it’s simply perfect.

“Ransom, this is⁠—”

“Fifty years of you being extraordinary,” he says quietly. “And hopefully fifty more of me getting to watch.”

My throat goes tight. “You’re making me cry at my own birthday party.”

“Good tears?”

“The best tears.”

I let him fasten the bracelet around my wrist and the diamonds are cool against my skin. “I love you. Even when you’re making me emotional.”

He laughs and kisses me. “I love you too, Detective Troublefield Baxter. Happy birthday.”

Ransom pulls me close, spinning me in a circle that makes the ballroom blur into gold and light and laughter.

“You did it,” he murmurs against my ear. “Caught a killer, saved Quinn, turned fifty, and recruited a new crew member. Not bad for one evening.”

“I’m a bit of an overachiever.”

“You’re perfect.”

Ransom lands his lips on mine and kisses me, deep and sweet and perfect, and when we break apart, the whole ballroom is dancing. Bess and Nettie are attempting something that might be the tango. Wes and Marina are swaying together, lost in their own little world. And I think Elodie is teaching the Vikings how to moonwalk.

Celeste materializes beside us in a shower of silver sparkles, watching the chaos with satisfaction.

“Not bad, Detective Troublefield Baxter,” she says. “You figured it out. And now I can finally move on.”

“To be with Gideon?” I ask with a twinge of excitement for her.

Ransom leans my way. “Unless he’s somewhere far too hot to visit.”

Celeste chortles at the thought. “Oh, hon, my Giddy is up and over the rainbow where forgiveness reigns and all you have to do is believe,” she says as her translucent form begins to fade. “He was terrible and wonderful and mine. And I’ve missed him every single day since I left.”

“Will you be happy?”

“I’ll be complete.” She smiles, sad and radiant all at once. “Thank you, Trixie. For giving me closure. For letting me help. For being gloriously alive.”

And she’s gone. Just like that—no fanfare, no dramatic exit—just an explosion of hot pink stars and a catcall that could pierce eardrums.

Ransom winces at the sound. “Are you okay?”

“Better than okay.” I look around the Golden Era Ballroom, at my husband, my friends, my new best friend, at fifty years of life that led me exactly here. “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

The music swells. The cake gets demolished. The champagne keeps flowing.

And somewhere in the North Atlantic, the Emerald Queen of the Seas sails on through the night, carrying all of us toward whatever comes next.