Q Is for Quarry

pampered. The point of the whole vacation was not having to cook."
    "What about activities? What'd you do with yourselves all day?"
    William pulled out a chair for Rosie and then took a seat at the table. "It was terrific. Wonderful. We docked at various ports, maybe seven in all. When we weren't off seeing the sights, we had lectures and movies, swimming, shuffleboard, aerobics – you name it. They even had a bowling alley. At night, there was gambling and ballroom dancing. Bridge, chess tournaments. Never an idle moment. We had a ball."
    "Good for you. That sounds great. How about the other sibs? Did they enjoy it?"
    William said, "Well, let's see now. Charlie finally got his hearing aids adjusted and he's a changed man. You can hardly shut him up. Used to be he kept to himself since he never had a clue what anyone was saying to him. He and Nell played bridge and beat the socks off their opponents."
    "And Lewis?"
    "You put him around a bunch of women and he's happy as a clam. Men were outnumbered ten to one. He was the cock of the walk."
    Rosie held up an index finger. "Not quite." She gave Henry a sly smile. "Tell what you did."
    "No, no. Unimportant. Enough about us. What about you, Kinsey? What are you working on? Something interesting I'm sure."
    "Come on, Henry. You haven't finished telling me about the trip. I've never been on a cruise. I really want to know what it was like."
    "Just what William said. Little bit of everything. It was nice," he said, busy with oil and vinegar and his whisk.
    Rosie leaned forward, her tone confidential. "He's pose for calendar and now all the old womens calling him night and day."
    "Don't be silly," he said over his shoulder to her.
    "What kind of calendar?"
    "Oh, you know, the usual. The crew thought it'd be a good way to commemorate the trip. They do this all the time. It's nothing. Just a joke."
    Rosie nodded, lifting one brown-penciled brow. "The 'nothing' I agree. Is what he's wearing. Our Mr. February, Kings of Heart."
    "He wasn't wearing nothing," William said. "You make it sound like he was nude when he was no such thing."
    She reached in her tote and pulled out a glossy calendar filled with color photographs. "I heve right here. You take a look and see for yourself. The mans got no clothes. Only underpents." She flipped to the month of February and turned the page so I could see it. The candid shot showed Henry on the upper deck, leaning against the rail with his back to the ocean. A distant palm-dotted island was visible to his right. He wore red shorts, no shoes, a white dress shirt hanging loose and unbuttoned down the front. A captain's hat was tilted forward at an angle. His grin was unaffected, showing a flash of white teeth against the tan of his face. The effect was rakish, the perfect combination of charisma and sex appeal. Henry, in the kitchen with us, blushed from ear to ear.
    "Ooo, I love this. I have to have a copy of my own," I said.
    "Is yours. You keep. I heve more for ladies in the neighborhood."
    "Thanks." I flipped through the pages, checking the other entrants.
    While some of the photographs showed moderately attractive men – all octogenarians, by the look – not one was as dashing as Henry. I laughed with pleasure. "I never knew you were so photogenic. No wonder the phone's ringing. You look fabulous."
    "The phone's not ringing," he said.
    At that moment, the phone did, in fact, ring.
    "I get," Rosie said, heaving herself to her feet.
    "No, you won't. That's what machines are for."
    We waited out the three additional rings until Henry's answering machine kicked in. From the other room, we heard the outgoing message, followed by the usual beep. "Henry? This is Bella, 'ma petite belle.' Remember me? I promised I'd call you so here I am. I just wanted to say how disappointed I was we didn't have a chance to visit again before you left the ship. You bad boy. When you have a chance, you can reach me at... "
    Dinner was punctuated by two additional calls, which Henry ignored. He kept his eyes on his plate, cutting his chicken with a concentration he rarely lavished on his food. The third time the phone rang, he left the table and went into the living room, where he turned off the ringer and lowered the volume on the answering machine. None of us said a word, but Rosie and William exchanged a look as she smirked at her plate. I could see her shoulders shake, though she pretended to cough, a napkin pressed to her lips.
    "It's not funny," Henry