Page 98 of Viking Vengeance Cruise

“I wasn’t planning on getting arrested,” Nettie counters.

“You never plan on it. It just happens,” Bess fires back. “The way weather happens.”

“That’s not a personality flaw, Bessie girl. That’s a lifestyle.”

Bess ignores her and produces a folded paper from her handbag, because Bess Chatterley does not wander a foreign city. She conquers it alphabetically. “As it happens, I have a list,” she says. “There’s a pharmacy on Town Hall Square that’s been operating since 1422. The oldest in Europe. They used to sell powdered unicorn horn and burnt hedgehog as medicine. Now they sell marzipan.”

“Do they still carry the unicorn powder?” Nettie asks.

“It’s a museum, Nettie.”

“That’s not a no.”

“After that,” Bess continues, “I want to walk St. Catherine’s Passage. It’s a little medieval lane where artisans still work their trades. Glassblowers, potters, quilters. And if there’s time, lunch at one of those candlelit taverns in the Old Town, the ones serving elk soup and honey beer with the staff dressed straight out of the fifteenth century.” She refolds her list with a crisp snap. “Anyone civilized is welcome to join me.”

“I’m in,” Ransom says without hesitating, which for him qualifies as wild enthusiasm.

“So am I,” I say. “I plan to eat marzipan inside a pharmacy. For medicinal purposes.”

Strictly medicinal.

The Velvet Viking Book Club is scattered across the atrium, saying their goodbyes in clusters. Without Astrid’s iron rule and Poppy’s counterfeit warmth, they look lighter somehow. Freer.

I wrap my arms around Ransom and tip my head onto his chest as the women stream past us. “Nothing bonds a book club quite like a felony,” I say.

“Except maybe a group rate,” he offers, and I pull back to stare at him because my husband made a joke, unprompted, in public. The Baltic really does change people.

Sienna approaches with her frizzy auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail, and I nearly applaud. The earth-tone scarves are gone. In their place she’s wearing a flowing red velvet jacket with lipstick to match, and the effect is less retired English teacher, more woman ready to conquer the world one bodice ripper at a time.

“Trixie,” she says, offering a small smile. “I wanted to say thank you. For believing me. For finding out the truth.”

“I’m sorry it was someone you considered a friend.”

“So am I.” She smooths one velvet lapel. “But at least now I don’t have to worry about Astrid’s threats anymore. And my grandkids are waiting for me at home.” Her whole face brightens as she says it. “I can’t wait to see them.”

“Give them an extra hug from me,” I say.

“I will.” She hesitates. “And Trixie? I’m going to tell the club the truth about my daughter. No more hiding. No more shame.”

“Good for you.”

She heads down the gangway, red velvet rippling behind her, and I watch her disappear into the crowd with a warm swell of hope. Three grandbabies are about to get the best version of their grandmother. Astrid never stood a chance against that woman, and neither will they.

Ransom pulls me close. “Just so you know, I made a few calls,” he says it casual as if giving a weather report. “I contacted a few old friends in the legal system. They’re pulling the case files on the man Astrid framed. If the conviction’s as rotten as it sounds, the wheels can start turning.”

I blink back and stare at this man. “Really? This is why I love you. You’re a cinnamon roll. Tough on the outside, pure softie in the middle.”

“Don’t let that get out. I have a reputation.” He dots a kiss on my lips, and I stand there grinning, married to the best-kept secret on the high seas.

Freya appears next, and I do an honest double take. The waist-length braids are gone. Her dark hair spills loose and soft over her shoulders, and she’s traded the black leather for something gentler, though the silver jewelry survived the transition. She looks demure and more certain of herself all at once. The warrior went home. The woman is heading out into the world.

“Well,” she says, stopping beside me. “This was the most eventful book club cruise I’ve ever been on.”

“I imagine most don’t include murder.”

“You’d be surprised.” She grins. “Thank you for not throwing me under the bus. I know I had motive.”

“You were honest about everything.”