“Majorca? On a beach?” Rose dropped her cutlery with a clatter.
“Yes, Majorca,” Shelly smirked, “you know, that Balearic island in the Mediterranean.”
“I’ve heard of it, of course.” Rose dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “I didn’t know you’d been there, though. You never sent me a postcard.”
“Sorry, honey. I worked there for a while, in a restaurant right by the sea. I wanted to improve on my Spanish.”
Rose had a vague recollection of Shelly taking Spanish lessons at night college, just before she left for her around the world trip.
“That’s lovely,” Rose said, picking at a loose thread of cotton on her sleeve, “but… but what about your guests?”
“They’ll be going,” Shelly replied brightly. “At least the important ones will.”
Flying? Rose gulped. I’m terrified of flying.
“Please s
