“Don't scratch it,” I say, feeling more and more like my mother. “I'll go get you a Benadryl.”

  “Hurry,” she cries. “It's starting to itch all over. Oh, Maddie, I think I'm dying.”

  “Is she worse?” asks Sid as we nearly collide by the front door.

  “She's starting to itch,” I say quickly. “I'll get the Benadryl; you put some soda in the tub.”

  “Then shall I throw her in?” whispers Sid.

  I laugh. “Yes, and dunk her too.”

  I pick up the package of Benadryl, read the dosage directions, then shake out two caplets. “You can take two of these every six hours if you need to,” I tell Shelby as I put them in her hand. “That will help the itching.”

  “And so will this,” says Sid as she stirs the soda into the water. “Feel that, Shelby. It's nice and silky.”

  “Let me in there,” says Shelby, dropping her terry robe to reveal more red blotchy patches of hives all over her body.

  I inwardly cringe but don't say anything. Poor Shelby.

  “Ah,” she says. “This feels good. Thanks, you guys. Sorry I'm being such a baby.”

  “It's okay,” says Sid. “Under the circumstances, it's understandable.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. “Hopefully the Benadryl will kick in, and the itching will go away completely.”

  “Man, I hope so.”

  “I got you some ointment too,” says Sid. “It's supposed to help with itching.”

  “Thanks.”

  Then we leave her to soak.

  “What was in that drink Shelby was sipping?” asks Sid suspiciously. I tell her the recipe, and she smiles. “That sounds good.”

  So I repeat my formula to make ditto drinks, and we take them out to the terrace and sit down. “Ahh,” I say, leaning back. “This is more like it.”

  Sid lets out a long sigh. “Yes. Just when I was starting to feel relaxed this afternoon, this woman begins screaming at me in Spanish, and then Shelbys half-dead. Good grief.”

  I hold my glass up as if to toast. “Here's to better days ahead,” I say. We clink glasses, then chuckle.

  “Well, we're out of here tomorrow,” she says. “And then it's adiós to Shelby.”

  “What about our intervention plan?” I ask, noticing it's after five now. Ian and Ryan should be home soon.

  “Oh, drat. I better call them and tell them its off. Poor Shelby. I think she's had a totally different kind of intervention.”

  “Yeah, I almost jumped for joy when the doctor said no booze.”

  “You and me both.”

  “I'll call the guys,” I tell Sid, “and check on the patient.”

  “Yes, we wouldn't want her to drown in the tub.”

  I make the phone call and explain to Ian what happened. “Did you guys catch any fish?”

  “Ryan caught an impressive striped marlin. Catch and release, of course.”

  “Well, good for him.”

  “Yes. He was quite happy. The fish was more than a hundred pounds.”

  “Wow.”

  Then he reminds me of our dinner plans. “Our reservation isn't until seven thirty.”

  “Oh, that's good. We were just relaxing.”

  “Relaxing after your day at the spa.”

  Then I point out how the scene with Shelby detracted from the whole relaxing part.

  “Yes, I can imagine. We'll come by for you at about seven,” he says.

  “Sounds great. See you then.”

  I go and check on Shelby, and she seems fairly subdued in the soda bath. She's finished off her drink. Without saying anything to her, I go and make her another one and bring her a bottle of water.

  “Remember, the doctor said plenty of fluids,” I say as I set the drinks beside her.

  “Yeah, but the wrong kinds of fluids,” she complains.

  “Enjoy your bath,” I say lightly, getting away before she starts begging me for something stronger again.

  Sid and I just lounge around on the terrace, visiting and enjoying the view and, later, the sunset. Our last night in Mexico.

  “This trip hasn't exactly been what you expected,” she says to me.

  “But it's been good,” I tell her.

  She sighs. “I think it's been very good.”

  “We've hardly talked,” I say. “I mean, it's been so busy. You've been with Ian, and I was helping Francesca.”

  “And then there was Shelby.”

  I laugh. “Yes. And then there was Shelby.”

  “I cant believe we go home tomorrow. It's gone by too fast.”

  “So, tell me,” I begin. “Hows it going with Ian? I mean, I can tell you guys are having a good time and everything, but is it more than that?”

  “Oh, I don't know.”

  “Come on, Sid. This is me, Maddie. You have to know.”

  “Oh, I know how I feel.

  “And that is?”

  “Well, I…1 love him, Maddie.”

  I sit up straight now. “You mean love him ‘love him'?”

  She smiles and sort of laughs.

  “So this really is serious?”

  “That's where I'm not so sure. We live so far apart, and I'm fully aware Ian has had girlfriends, for the most part not too seriously. What if I'm just another one of those?”

  “You're not,” I tell her. “I can tell by the way he looks at you.”

  She laughs again. “Oh you can, can you? And since when did you get to be such an expert on middle-aged men, Madison Chase?”

  I shrug. “I don't know…but I can tell.”

  “Well, speaking of men, I suppose we should think about getting ready. My hair is still goopy from all the oil and stuff today. I really need to clean up.”

  “Me too.”

  “And we should check on our patient.”

  “That's right,” I say, getting up. “She's probably turned into a prune by now.”

  “That might be an improvement.”

  But Shelby's out of the tub now. I can hear her rummaging around in her room, but I doubt she's getting ready to go out tonight. I cannot imagine her wanting to show that puffy red face to the public just yet. Still, she might have some magic beauty potion tucked away in her pile of cosmetics in there. She could emerge looking just as gorgeous as ever, and I almost wouldn't be surprised.

  I shower after Sid, taking time to condition my hair, which should help tame my wild curls, and I even shave my legs, which seems a little like overkill since I shaved them just yesterday. But, I remind myself, this is New Year's Eve, after all, and we are going out. Maybe even dancing. I've already decided I'll wear the dress I bought in Todos Santos. I think the texture of the soft white cotton will feel nice against my skin after all that great exfoliating and the other treatments today. And as I check myself out in the mirror, I'm thinking, Hey, not bad. I wonder why I was so bummed about my looks a few days ago. Okay, I realize I got sucked into the old comparison game— the game where no one wins. Suddenly it seems not only childish but totally foolish as well.

  “You look stunning,” says Sid when I emerge, fresh and clean and feeling good.

  “Speak for yourself,” I tell her. “That's a gorgeous dress. Man, it really sets off your eyes and your tan. You're going to knock Ian's socks off, Sid.”

  “Well, I hope we all have fun.”

  “What about Shelby?” I ask. “I feel sort of bad leaving her home on New Years Eve.”

  “According to the doctor, she'll be fine. And there's leftover food in the fridge if she gets hungry,” Sid points out. “Some pretty good leftovers, if I do say so myself. The girl won't starve because we're gone. I also left a note by the phone with my cell phone number as well as the hotel emergency number. I think we've got it all covered.”

  “You think she'll be okay alone?”

  “Maybe we should check on her again before we leave.”

  “Yeah. And maybe I should leave some Benadryl for her in case the itching comes back.”

  “Good idea.”

  So I get a bottle of water from the fridge and take out two caplets, then write a note, explicitly telling Shelby she shouldn't take these until ten thirty, and then only if needed. I go and quietly knock on her door. I get a little concerned when she doesn't answer. But I crack it open enough to see her sprawled across the bed, still wearing the white terry bathrobe. Her mouth is gaping open, and she's snoring. Rather loudly too. I set the water, pills, and note next to the clock on her bedside table, then quietly close the door and inform Sid that our patient appears to be resting nicely “As in, dead to the world,” I add. “And without the help of alcohol too.”

  “It's probably just a side effect of the Benadryl,” says Sid. “It always makes me drowsy.”

  “That's probably a good thing. It'll help her get through the night without thinking she missed out on much.”

  “And maybe it'll help her to experience some sobriety. Who knows, she might even like it.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. “I doubt she'll be running out to any bars tonight.”

  “And maybe we can have that little chat with her tomorrow.”

  “Happy New Year, Shelby,” I say quietly in the direction of her bedroom door.

  “And here's to a better year next time around,” says Sid.

  We hear the guys at the front door. Not wanting to disturb our patient, we quickly let ourselves out.

  an lets out a low whistle as Sid and I step out the door. “Very lovely, ladies,” he says with approval. “Ryan and I are a lucky pair of blokes.”

  Ryan nods. “Yeah, you both look fantastic.”

  “You guys aren't so bad yourselves,” says Sid, winking at me.

  I feel a little apprehensive as we walk to the car. Part of me is still worried about Shelby. I'm sure she'll be okay, but I do feel bad about leaving her home alone, especially on New Year's Eve. Hopefully, she'll just sleep all night and feel fine tomorrow. Another part of me is uneasy about tonight. I mean, it's obvious that Sid and Ian are a couple. But it almost feels as if Ryan and I have been thrust together for convenience's sake. And I can't quite shake the fact that only days ago he seemed fairly smitten by Shelby. I know what he said about not liking the girl she's become, but I suspect he's sort of grieving the girl she once was. I can't help but wonder how he'd feel if she quit drinking and straightened out her life. Still, I tell myself to give it a rest as we get into Sid's rental car. Why not just enjoy my last night in Cabo?

  Ian drives toward town. We still don't know where our mystery dinner location is, but I'm sure it'll be good. Ryan and I are in the backseat. I keep thinking this feels like a double date. Even though I want to have fun tonight, I remind myself not to get too excited about being with Ryan. I mean, he's definitely said some sweet things to me in the past twenty-four hours, but I also know I shouldn't assume anything. We are not really a couple. Just good friends.

  So I begin to make small talk with him. I ask about his fishing trip, and he tells me about landing the striped marlin. His eyes light up as he talks, and he uses his hands to demonstrate how difficult it was to reel the big fish in, and he tells how excited he was to see the size of it and how there's a photo back at the resort. This is the old Ryan I remember getting close to in Ireland.

  Then he somberly inquires about Shelby's health, and I give him the update, assuring him that other than looking a little worse for wear, she is okay. “Just no more spa treatments anytime soon,” I say. “I wonder if it was the seaweed.”

  He shakes his head. “I don't know why anyone would want to be wrapped in seaweed in the first place. I thought about how crazy that was when I got my line all wrapped in seaweed this afternoon. Just doesn't make sense.”

  Ian laughs from the front seat. “I'm with you on that, Ryan. You couldn't pay me to get covered in that muck.”

  “I felt like that at first,” I admit. “And it was kind of cold and yucky. But then as it dries, it feels sort of good. It's hard to explain.”

  “It's a chick thing,” says Sid. “Best that we don't tell the guys all our secrets, Maddie.”

  “Right.”

  “Speaking of secrets,” says Sid as Ian drives around in the dock area. “I don't think there are any restaurants down here by the docks. Are you lost, Ian?”

  “Ah,” he says, pointing to a guy holding up a sign I cant quite read. “There's my man.”

  He pulls up by the guy and tells us to get out of the car. Then he hands his keys over.

  “What are we doing?” asks Sid as Ian takes her arm and begins to lead us down a dock.

  “Are we going fishing?” I ask.

  “Just be patient, ladies.”

  As we walk down the long dock, past yachts and fishing boats, I notice a large, well-lit boat off to the right.

  “Is this a dinner cruise?” asks Sid with excitement in her voice.

  “Bingo!” says Ian.

  “What a fantastic idea,” I say as we walk up the gangplank to the boat.

  “How did you manage this?” asks Sid after we're greeted and led to an area where drinks and appetizers are being served.

  “My fishing friend told me about it,” says Ian as he leads us to a place to sit on one of the upper decks of the boat. “When he heard I own a restaurant in Ireland, he told me all about his father, who runs this dinner-cruise boat. He said he could get us a reservation tonight.”

  “That's some friend,” says Sid. “Getting a table on New Year's Eve must be no small feat.”

  Ian nods. “Like they say, it's not what you know but who you know.”

  “Well, I think it's totally cool,” I say.

  Ian and Ryan go to get us drinks and return with fluted glasses of champagne, complete with strawberries at the bottom. And then as the boat begins to pull away from the dock and move out into the bay, we all toast to a lovely evening. The view of San Lucas from the boat is incredible—the lights reflecting off the dark blue water. Everything is so perfect I feel like I should pinch myself. I still wonder in amazement that Shelby isnt here tonight, making us a fivesome. I take a sip of champagne, which tickles my nose, and I think a foursome is much nicer.

  Dinner is served inside. And, like the rest of the evening, its incredible.

  “I hope you two don't mind the old folks’ music tonight,” says Ian. “Would you rather be rocking out at Cabo Wabo?”

  I laugh. “Not me. I happen to like Latino jazz.”

  “Me too,” says Ryan. “I used to not like admitting it, but I'm really not into hard rock. It gives me a headache.”

  “No way!” I say to him. “Me too.”

  “I guess we're just a couple of old fogies in disguise.”

  After dinner, we leave the table to walk around the boat and check out the view. I can tell that Ian and Sid want to be alone, so Ryan and I make ourselves comfortable on a couple of deck chairs near the aft of the boat. I lean my head back and sigh, just relaxing and listening to the quiet jazz music as the world moves slowly by. “Wow, I think I could get used to this,” I tell him.

  He sort of laughs. “Then you'll probably have to get rich or marry a rich man.”

  I sit up straight now. “I would never marry a guy for his money, Ryan.”

  “Oh, I know, Maddie. I was just joking.”

  “Do you think Ian is rich?” I ask in a quieter tone.

  He shrugs. “I don't know. He's got his restaurant, and he's single. I suppose he could've socked money away. Or maybe he made some smart investments like Sid did back when the stock market was good. I've never really asked him.”

  “I hope this vacation isn't setting him back.”

  “I don't think you need to worry,” he says. “Ian seems pretty sure of himself. He's here because he wants to be.”

  “Do you think he's in love with Sid?”

  Ryan seems to consider this. “I think it's a real possibility.”

  Then we both just sit there quietly for a while. But it's a comfortable quiet. And I like that neither of us feels the need to talk constantly. People who talk constantly make me want to run and scream. In my opinion, the world could use a little less talking.

  Dessert is served at ten. It's actually a dessert buffet, and everything looks delicious.

  “I feel like a kid in a candy store,” I tell Ryan. “I want everything.”

  “Go for it,” he says.

  “Yeah, right.” I roll my eyes. “And then maybe you can roll me down the gangplank later.”

  “It won't hurt you,” he tells me. “I like a girl who's not afraid to eat what she likes.”

  “You mean you like fat girls?” I say.

  “I didn't say that.” He smiles at me. “But why not enjoy yourself, Maddie? It's your last night in Mexico.”

  So I do go for it. I take a little bit of everything that looks good to me. And then we go sit down, and I make a total pig of myself. “Oh, man,” I say as I push my plate aside. “That was so stupid.” I make a face. “I need a nice, long beach to walk on now.”

  “Well, that's not going to happen,” he points out. “But we can dance.”

  Already a number of couples are dancing on both the inside and outside dance floors. Ian and Sid are taking advantage of the dancing too.

  “I'm not a very good dancer,” I tell him.

  “Me neither,” he admits.

  “Well, I guess we really do have some things in common.”

  He reaches for my hand. “Want to give it a try?”

  He leads me outside, which is a relief, since the lights are dimmer out there, and if I make a fool of myself, hopefully, it'll be less noticeable. To my relief, a slow song is playing, providing what I hope will be an icebreaker—well, as long as I don't step on Ryan's toes. But after a few seconds, I realize this isn't as hard as I thought it would be. We sort of seem to figure it out.

  We dance again and again, and it seems like we're getting better. Even in the fast dances, where some of the couples really know what to do, we try some new things and actually pull them off. And I'm thinking, This is really firn!

  After a while, we take a break and go inside to get something to drink. We look for Ian and Sid, but they seem to have made themselves pretty scarce, which we both think is kind of cute. Then we go back outside, where it's cooler, and the stars and moon are shining brightly, and we really get into the dancing again. I know we're not the hottest dancers on the floor, but we make a fairly decent attempt at the mambo or the rumba or whatever this Latino dance is called.