Charlene shrugged off her coat in the drafty hall of the Tenth Street Seniors Club. She didn't know why she even bothered to attend. Since John's fatal heart attack, nothing seemed to matter.

Facing the clubroom door, she smoothed her springy white curls, took a deep breath and stretched out her hand. Before she could turn the knob, the door flew open and Hazel swooped down on her.

Chubby fingers pressed into her arm. Hazel's frizzy red hair brushed the side of her face as she whispered. �We have a new man. You've got to meet him. Such a hunk and a widower.� She urged Charlene forward a step. �He'd be perfect for you.�

�I'm not interested in finding a man. I keep trying to tell you that.� Charlene tried to pull her arm away, but Hazel's fingers dug deeper.

�You've got to stop moping. You need to meet new people.�

�I am meeting people. I just don't feel like dating anyone.�

Undeterred, Hazel propelled her into the main club room. A little knot of women was gathered around a tall white haired man. Forcing their way into the group, Hazel thrust Charlene forward. �Alan, I want you to meet one of our members, Charlene Russel.�

�Alan Grant.� The tall man extended a bronzed hand. �I'm delighted to meet you. Hazel's been telling me about you.�

Charlene glared at Hazel. �That was probably a full minute's worth of entertainment.�

Ignoring the indignant looks from his circle of admirers, Alan took her elbow and steered her to one of the round tables flanking the wall. �I've wanted to meet you. I lost my wife recently.� He glanced down at his folded hands then sought her eyes. �Hazel tells me you lost your husband, too.�

Charlene studied the blue eyes tinged with sadness. �I'm sorry to hear about your wife. It isn't easy, is it?� She smoothed her skirt. �I should know. John's been gone for two years and I still miss him dreadfully.�

Alan folded her hand in his large warm ones. �Maybe it would help to get together to talk? We have a lot in common.�

�Perhaps.� Charlene withdrew her hand, but her lips parted in a shy smile.

A week later Hazel called. �Where have you been? I've been expecting you at the club and you know who has been asking about you. You've got all the ladies' noses out of joint.�

Charlene sighed. �I don't know why Alan is interested in me. There are plenty of willing partners at the club. More than willing if you ask me. I don't know why any man goes there; the women are so rapacious.�

�Maybe that's why he's interested in you. You don't chase him.�

�I don't want him either.�

�Don't be so quick. He's a presentable man. We don't get many of them around here. Come over for coffee. I promised to try to persuade you.�

Charlene thought for a minute. The offer was tempting. Alan seemed like a nice man. �I'll come over later, but no match making.�

Charlene stopped avoiding the club. She did enjoy Alan's company. A month later returning home after a lively book discussion, she found a UPS truck parked in front of her house. The brown uniformed driver leaped out and handed her a manila envelope. Thrusting an electronic signature box at her, he said, �Sign right here.�

Charlene scribbled her name and looked curiously at the envelope. Across the bottom, printed in heavy black letters ran the words, �Dated material. Contest winner. Open immediately.�

In the kitchen, Charlene tossed the envelope on the table and removed her coat. It was probably one of those Reader's Digest type contests where they tried to tempt you to buy something by holding out the possibility of winning a romantic vacation. The envelop beckoned. She reached inside and extracted a letter and a shiny folder displaying the picture of a cruise ship floating on impossibly blue water.

Scanning the letter, she nearly dropped the folder. �Congratulations. You have won a trip for two on the Princess Lines Caribbean Holiday. You and your escort will enjoy a fun filled week visiting the islands on our modern cruise ship.�

Charlene opened the folder. Sure enough it contained two tickets on the Princess Anne sailing from Miami on June 14th and two sets of airline tickets from Newark to Miami. With shaking hands she read the instructions for claiming the prize. �The only restriction is that you must be accompanied by an escort of your choice.�

Charlene let the letter drop into her lap. She'd often dreamed of going to the Caribbean. But I didn't enter a contest, she thought.

The next morning she hurried to the club. It would be just like Hazel to enter her for a romantic cruise. She found her making coffee in the club kitchen. �Okay, why did you enter me in that contest?�

�Contest? What contest?� Hazel stopped pouring water into the silver urn.

Charlene held out the letter. �This contest.�

Hazel took the proffered letter and skimmed it. �Boy, this is great. You are so lucky. I didn't enter you, but it's a fabulous opportunity. You've got to ask Alan.�

Charlene shook her head. �I'm not going on a cruise with some man I hardly know.�

Hazel put her hands on her ample hips. �You've been mourning John long enough. It's time for you to get out and have some fun. Alan is perfectly nice. You only have to ask him to go as your escort. It doesn't say you have to sleep with him. You even have two cabins.�

Charlene stuffed the letter back in her purse. �I'll think about it.�

Hazel turned back to the coffee maker. �Just don't wait too long.�

Charlene had trouble sleeping that night. Half of her wanted to go on the trip. The other half reminded her that she was a grandmother and didn't do things like that � or did she?

The next morning she found Alan in the club surrounded as usual by his admirers. He raised his head as she entered and excused himself from the group. Charlene thought, darn that Hazel. She probably already told him.

When he reached her, she blurted out, �Can we talk privately? I want to ask you something.�

Alan drew her to one of the side tables. �Is something wrong?�

Charlene blushed. �I won a Caribbean Cruise.�

�How wonderful! You're very lucky.�

�The problem is that the only way I can go is if I have an escort. I � I wondered if you'd be willing to take the trip with me?�

�I would be honored. I've always wanted to see the Caribbean.�

�It's a deal then, but � but we're just friends.�

�Of course, I wouldn't want it any other way.�

Hazel bustled into the room and hurried over. �So?�

Charlene said, �Yes, I asked Alan and we're going on the cruise.�

Hazel grasped their hands. �You'll have a wonderful time and who knows.�

In June they flew to Miami and boarded the Princess Anne. Together they explored the ship looking for their staterooms. Charlene gasped when she stepped into hers. The large room opened on to a balcony. Several bouquets of exotic flowers were arrayed on a center table. She couldn't believe she had planned to turn down the trip.

Several doors down, Alan's stateroom wasn't as luxurious as hers. He squeezed her hand. �I don't need much room. I'm lucky just to be here with you.�

The evening before arriving at Charlotte Amalie, she surprised Alan staring at her across the supper table with narrowed eyes. She shivered. He leaned across the table. �What's wrong?�

�Nothing, it's just that you were staring at me.�

�I'm sorry I didn't mean to frighten you. I was noticing how beautiful you are and thinking how fortunate I was to find you.�

Charlene blushed and touched his hand lightly. �I'm glad too. I wouldn't have come on this cruise without you.�

After supper leaning on the rail. Alan's shoulder touched hers giving just the right amount of closeness. He gazed at the busy harbor. �There are several tours going ashore tomorrow. I guess you'd like to take one.�

Charlene considered his profile. �Did you have something else in mind?�

�I'd like to go ashore, but I hate packaged tours. I thought we might go off by ourselves, explore a little.�

�I'm not much on tours either.� Charlene let her gaze wander over the darkening water.

�There are some places I'd like to show you. I'm sure they're not on the schedule.�

Charlene tensed. �I thought you'd never been to the Caribbean before.�

Alan hesitated. �I haven't. I just read a lot. I wanted to do something special for you. After all, you gave me this wonderful trip.�

She blushed. �How thoughtful. I'd love to go with you. I don't care much for crowds either.�

�Good. We'll leave about ten when the second boat goes ashore.�

Charlene found a table in the the lounge while Alan went to get his brochures. He had just returned when the steward approached. �You have a ship-to-shore call, Sir.�

Alan excused himself and hurried away leaving the pamphlets on the table. When he hadn't returned in a half hour, Charlene decided to go to her stateroom. She picked up the brightly colored booklets. It would be a shame to lose them. She decided to deliver them to his cabin.

No one answered her knock. She tried the handle. The door opened easily. Intending to leave the brochures on his desk, she crossed the room. In the center of the blotter, lay a sheet of writing paper. The letterhead was the one from the cruise contest. What was Alan doing with a blank sheet of contest paper? The hairs on the back of her neck started to rise.

She lifted the sheet to study it. Beneath was a newspaper clipping. Charlene stared down and gasped. Her hand went to her throat. Alan's handsome face stared up at her from the newsprint. �Man wanted in Disappearance of Woman from Caribbean Cruise Ship.�

With the pamphlets clutched to her chest, Charlene raced back to her cabin, closed and locked the door.

She leaned against it gasping for breath. Almost immediately, a knock jolted her causing the shiny slips of paper to fall from her shaking hands.

Alan's voice came through the thin wood panel. �Char, are you there? Can I come in?�

Charlene froze. �I'm sorry, Alan. I'm ready for bed. I want to be rested for tomorrow.�

The silence hung heavily beyond the door. Finally he said, �Did you find my pamphlets?�

�Yes, I have them. I'll give them to you in the morning.�

�Good, I wouldn't want to lose them. Sleep well.�

Footsteps receded. Charlene stumbled to the phone and made two calls.

The next morning she huddled in the locked cabin. What if the police didn't believe her?

At ten o'clock a brisk knock brought her trembling to the door. Putting her hand to her throat she said, �Yes.�

A deep voice said, �May I come in Mrs. Russel. Please do not be afraid to open the door.�

With shaking hands, she unlocked the door and faced a massive black man dressed in a uniform so white it hurt her eyes. �I must thank you for alerting us to this man calling himself Alan Grant. He is wanted in the disappearance of several women in these islands. You were very clever to see through him.�

Charlene shuddered. �I was lucky to find the clipping in his cabin.�

The police chief took her hand. �I hope that this incident will not keep you from enjoying our beautiful island.�

What she wanted was to crawl back in bed, and pull the covers over her head until she could fly home, preferably today. But she'd always wanted to see the Caribbean. Alan wasn't going to ruin her chance. She looked up at the warm brown face smiling down at her. �Yes, I would like very much to see your island.�

Nancy Famolari is retired and lives in the Endless Mountains of Pennsylvania with her husband, four retired Standardbred racehorses, three Morgan horses, two dogs and numerous white cats. Her stories have appeared in Long Story Short, and "Matters of the Heart" published by Museitup Press. She is revising her two romance novels and hopes to find a publisher.