I feel like I never want this night to end. Not only is it totally fun dancing out here on a boat that's floating in the Sea of Cortez, but I feel like something is happening between Ryan and me. Even though I warned myself not to let my heart get overly involved, I'm afraid that's what's happening. Still, I try to convince myself its simply a result of the evening, the music, the boat, the champagne, Mexico… Who wouldn't feel like this? Things will be different tomorrow. And then we'll go home.

  Suddenly the music stops, and people are counting down to the new year: five, four, three, two, one—Happy New Year! All around us couples are kissing. And the next thing I know, Ryan leans down, and I tilt my head up, ready and waiting. Then he kisses me. On the forehead! Okay, I'm sure my face must be conveying my hurt and disappointment. My embarrassed, rejected disappointment. I turn away from him, getting ready to make some little excuse to escape before my flushed cheeks give me away. I could hide out in the ladies’ room until I'm composed. Then Ryan puts his hand on my chin, turns my face back to him and says, “May I have this kiss?”

  Without speaking, I nod, unsure of what he means. Another smooch on the forehead, perhaps. Maybe a cheek. Then he leans down again, and this time he really kisses me, fully on the lips, like he means it! And, okay, there are fireworks going off all around us, flashing and exploding, but my eyes are tightly closed. And yet I can still see them—exploding inside me in all different colors. When we stop kissing, the fireworks are still going off, colorful starbursts over our heads, reflecting in the water and echoing in our ears.

  “Wow,” he says with a smile.

  “Wow,” I say back.

  “Happy New Year, Maddie.” He slips his arm around me and pulls me close to him.

  “Happy New Year,” I quietly tell him, suddenly feeling slightly self-conscious at this sudden turn in our relationship. Or maybe it's not so sudden.

  Now the band is playing, and everyone is singing along to “Auld Lang Syne,” and although most of us don't know all the words, we make a bold attempt, and it's a happy crowd. Sid and Ian join us now, heartily singing along. Then the music stops, and the fireworks settle down a bit, and I ask if anyone knows what auld kng syne really means. Okay, silly question, I suppose. But I think I just needed a break of sorts. Maybe a transition.

  “As I understand, it's an old Scottish song that dates way back,” Ian tells us. “Robert Burns was the first one to put it on paper, but I don't think he created it. To be honest, I'm not even sure what auld lang syne means.”

  “I think it simply means not to forget our friends,” says Sid.

  Ian nods and smiles, running his thumb down Sid's cheek in an affectionate and familiar way. “Yes, that fairly well sums it up, doesn't it, dear?”

  She smiles up at Ian now. “And we haven't forgotten old friends, have we, Ian?”

  His eyes seem locked onto hers now. “No, we haven't.” Then they kiss right in front of us. Okay, this is getting just a little too intimate for me right now. I mean, I don't enjoy watching my parents kiss, and I'm not too sure about watching my aunt. I'm tempted to move away and give these moonstruck old lovers their space, but Ian stops me with his next line. “Shall we tell them our news, my love?”

  My aunt smiles at him. “Yes, I think they should be the first to know.”

  Ian waits until the loud thundering of the fireworks’ grand finale subsides, and we all clap to show our appreciation for the spectacular show. As the crowd settles down and a quieter song begins to play, Ian makes his announcement. “I've asked Sid to marry me, and she has said yes.”

  Sid shows us her ring, a stunning solitaire diamond set in platinum, but I think her eyes look even brighter. Then Ryan and I congratulate them both with lots of hugs and slaps on the back, and I can tell they are both really happy. I'm wondering where they are going to live, and I hope Sid's not going to abandon Seattle before her two new roommates have even moved in, but I'm not really worried. Honestly, does it matter where they live? The important thing is they'll be together. I can hardly believe it's taken these two nearly thirty years to get back together. What they have now will, I'm sure, last them the rest of their lives. Who cares where they live? But I do wonder where they'll get married.

  The boat is heading back to the docks now. And although it's been a fantastic, unforgettable, wonderfully romantic evening, it's just like the old cliché says—it seems all good things must come to an end. Before long, we are heading back to the resort, and then were standing outside our suite, telling our guys good night and agreeing to meet for breakfast in the morning. Then, as Ian gives Sid a kiss, Ryan gives me a kiss as well. As we go inside, I feel like I'm floating.

  I'm not the only one floating I realize as we close the door. And I'm not talking about my aunt, although I suspect she was floating just moments ago. But there in the living room is Shelby, with the music cranked up, wearing nothing but a goofy smile. Her skin reminds me of a lobster that was left to boil too long. And she's dancing like she hasn't a care in the world.

  I'm sure glad we didn't invite the guys in for a cup of coffee.

  hat's up?” I ask Shelby, and she turns and looks at us with this really spacey expression. Then I notice a mostly empty pitcher of what I'm sure must've been margaritas. I nudge Sid and point to it.

  “Shelby,” says my aunt in a stern voice, “have you been drinking?”

  Shelby just laughs and continues dancing.

  I go to her room to see if she took the other Benadryl capsules, and it seems she has. I get her terry bathrobe and put it on her. To my surprise, she lets me.

  “I was jus’ partyin',” she says with a very definite slur. “Ish New Year's, you guysh. A girlsh should have some fun, shouldn't she, don-cha think, doncha think?”

  “How's the rash?” asks Sid.

  “It was ishing,” she tells us with a serious frown. “It felt like little bitty bugs were crawlin all over me. So I took the pills and called down for some drinks. And now I feel so mush better.” She lets out a long yawn and flops down to the couch.

  “I wonder how long ago she took the pills,” says Sid.

  “Who knows, but I think we should get her to bed,” I say, pulling her up by her hands. “Come on, Shelby.”

  “You wanna dance?”

  “No thanks.”

  Her brows come together like she's trying to see me better. “Where you been, Maddie? You look pretty.”

  “Thanks,” I tell her. “Lets get you to bed.”

  She protests as both Sid and I help her back to her bedroom, but by the time we get her into bed, she is half-asleep.

  “Happy New Year, Shelby,” I say.

  She opens one eye. “Happy New Year.”

  We turn off the lights and tiptoe out of her room, but I can hear Sid starting to giggle, and by the time I close her door and we're back in the living room, we're both laughing.

  “I know it's terrible,” says Sid, “but I was just thinking about how Shelby looked when we came in tonight.”

  “The dancing lobster,” I say, and we both laugh harder.

  “Poor girl,” says Sid. “Can you believe she ordered a pitcher of margaritas after the doctor specifically told her no alcohol?”

  “Seems pretty crazy.”

  “Hopefully, she'll sleep well tonight.”

  An awful idea yanks me out of the humor. “You don't think it'll hurt her, do you?”

  Sid picks up the pitcher of remaining margaritas, takes it to the sink, and dumps it down the drain. “I don't think so. I think the main concern is that the combination knocks people out. And if someone took Benadryl along with a couple of drinks and tried to drive, well, that could get ugly.”

  “Do we still want to do a little intervention with her tomorrow?” I ask.

  “I think it ci be a good thing. Maybe after breakfast.”

  “Yeah, I'm concerned that she has one more night here—without us. I mean, she could really get into trouble.”

  “I know.”

  “Wow!” I say suddenly, going over and hugging my aunt. “I almost forgot, you're engaged. Congratulations again.”

  She smiles and looks down at her ring almost as if she's still absorbing this new development in her life. “Thanks.”

  “And Happy New Year.”

  “And to you too.” She sighs. “Are you as tired as I am?”

  “I think so.” Even though I want to hear all the details, I realize we will have plenty of time to talk tomorrow.

  So without much more ado, we both start getting ready for bed. But before I climb between the sheets, I go out and put that ottoman in front of the door again. Okay, I know it's a silly gesture, but I hope it'll help keep Shelby safely in the suite tonight. I can just imagine our naked lobster going outside to dance by the swimming pool.

  Shelby's rash is better in the morning. Instead of all the raised welts, she looks more like she's had a bad sunburn, and she's puffy. Of course, she cant stand how she looks and refuses to go to breakfast with us.

  “Want us to bring something back for you?” offers Sid.

  “No. I'll find something here,” she says sadly. “I'll be fine.”

  “I'm surprised she didn't try to get us to bring her a Bloody Mary,” I say as we walk toward the restaurant, and Sid laughs. Then I ask her how it feels to be engaged in the light of day.

  “It feels wonderful.”

  “No second thoughts then?”

  “Are you kidding?” Then she looks at me. “Speaking of feeling wonderful, it looked like you and Ryan were getting cozy last night. What was up with that?”

  I just shrug.

  “Caught up in the moment?” she persists. “Or something more?” 1 m not sure.

  “Really?”

  “Well, it felt like something more. To me anyway. Who knows how Ryan will feel this morning. And then there's the whole Shelby thing.”

  “What Shelby thing?” She frowns. “I think its pretty obvious that Shelby is not Ryan's type. You know that, Maddie.”

  “But remember how Ryan was in love with her in high school?” I say as we get closer to the restaurant. “If she hadn't changed—or if she changes back—well, who knows where it might go with them.”

  “I don't think so, Maddie.”

  It's too late to discuss it further, since Ian and Ryan are waving and joining us. “We got a table,” Ian says, after kissing his fiancee. Ryan gives me a hug and even a peck on the cheek, then takes my hand as we walk to the table. I feel Sid looking at me, like she's saying, “I told you so.” Still, I'm not totally convinced.

  We have a nice breakfast, and although Ian and Ryan don't fly out until tomorrow, they offer to accompany us to the airport. Then Sid brings up the Shelby-intervention plan. “We're going to talk to her after breakfast,” she says. “We feel like it's our responsibility.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. “And in a way, Shelby has thought of us as family. So it makes sense.”

  “Do you really want us to be involved?” asks Ian.

  “The more the merrier,” says Sid. “Besides, we've all four witnessed her drinking binges. And, Ryan, you've probably seen even more than the rest of us.”

  “I don't know about that,” he says. “You guys have had more than your share.”

  I try not to snicker as I recall Shelby's naked-lobster dance last night. Sid and I already agreed not to tell the guys about this little incident. We think the poor girl deserves a bit of respect.

  “I was involved in an intervention once,” says Ian. “One of our cooks had a drug problem. He was the nicest guy, and everyone liked him, but his drug abuse was ruining his life, and he was messing up at work.”

  “So how did you handle it?” asks Sid.

  “Very carefully. We made sure Collin knew the reason we were doing it was because we all loved him. For starters, we all said positive things about him. Then we told him our concerns, but we did it in a kind way.”

  “Did it work?”

  “It got him into rehab.” Ian sighs. “We thought he was going to make it, but the last I heard, he had moved to Dublin and had gone back to the same old stuff.”

  “Too bad.”

  “You can only do what you can do,” says Sid.

  “Like my dad says all the time,” I add, “you can lead a horse to water, but you cant make him drink.”

  “Or, in Shelbys case, you can't make her stop drinking,” says Ryan.

  “Not unless she wants it for herself,” says Ian.

  “But at least we can speak the truth to her,” I say, “in love.”

  “Shall we say ten o'clock then?” asks Sid. “That's in about thirty minutes, and hopefixlly early enough that Shelby hasn't had anything to drink yet. Or at least not enough to be impaired.”

  “And that'll give you time to pack and be ready to go to the airport?” asks Ian. “Not that we'd mind terribly if you missed your flight.”

  Sid laughs. “Well, I'd mind. That could be an expensive mistake.”

  He nods. “Yes, I've heard everything's pretty much booked coming in and going out of here this week.”

  So we head back to our suite, hoping Shelby is, one, fully clothed and, two, not drinking. To our pleased surprise, she is both. Well, the fully clothed part might be debatable. She has on her bikini, along with huge sunglasses and a large sun hat that pretty much makes it impossible to tell that it's her. In fact, she could actually pass for an old woman with bad eczema.

  “I thought I'd get some sun today,” she tells us, holding out a patchy red arm. “You think it might help?”

  “No,” says Sid. “I think it might hurt.”

  Shelby frowns. “Really?”

  “We could call the doctor and find out,” I suggest.

  “Would you?” she asks. So I dial the office and am eventually connected to Dr. Heishcel. I remind him of Shelby's situation and ask about her going out in the sun today. He gives me a little medical lecture, which I try to write down. Then I hang up and tell Shelby.

  “The doctor says that sun exposure may aggravate or worsen your allergic reaction. He also said to avoid chlorine in the pools. And stay out of the ocean. He said to keep doing the soda baths and to wear loose clothing and to apply cool compresses to bad areas, to get lots of rest, and to keep drinking plenty of fluids. Not alcohol,” I add, although he didn't say this. But if he was familiar with Shelby's habits, I'm sure he would.

  Shelby pouts at all that.

  “So why don't you go put on something loose fitting,” says Sid kindly, “and I'll fix you something to drink.”

  Shelby brightens. “Something good?”

  Sid nods. “Something good for you.”

  Shelby rolls her eyes, then goes back to her bedroom.

  “I'm getting nervous,” I say to Sid. “I've never done any kind of intervention before. Do you think she'll get mad at us?”

  “I think if we do it like Ian suggested, with kindness, caring, love…”

  “Right.”

  Sid makes a pot of coffee while I mix up a pitcher of orange, papaya, and pineapple juices, hoping again that Shelby might consider this a mixed drink. Pathetic, I know, but if it helps to soothe the girl, it might be worthwhile.

  Shelby and Sid are sitting on the couch when Ian and Ryan arrive. Shelby tries to make a fast break—I'm sure because she's embarrassed to be seen right now—but its too late. I've already let them in.

  “It's okay,” I tell her. “They heard all about your unfortunate experience yesterday.”

  “Tough break,” says Ryan, shaking his head. “That must feel pretty lousy.”

  She nods. “Yeah, it's been miserable.”

  “At least there was a doctor handy,” says Ian. “Can you imagine if he hadn't been there?”

  Shelby shakes her head. “No. I guess I'd be dead.”

  “We have coffee and juice,” I offer, bringing out a tray with cups and glasses.

  “What's the occasion?” asks Shelby as she sits back down on the couch next to Sid.

  “Just friends getting together,” I say lightly.

  “It's our last day here,” adds Sid.

  “Did you tell Shelby the big news?” asks Ian.

  So Sid tells Shelby about the engagement, and Shelby looks truly happy for the two of them. “I'd marry Ian for the accent alone,” she tells Sid.

  Sid laughs. “Yes, it's rather nice, but there's a lot more to him too.”

  Then the room gets quiet. I wonder who's supposed to start this thing. I hope it's not me, because I don't have the slightest idea what to say.

  “Shelby,” says Ian, “we wanted to talk to you before we all go our separate ways.”

  “Huh?” she looks up from her coffee.

  “For starters,” says Sid, “Maddie and I want to thank you for your hospitality. It was so generous of you to share your suite with us. We really appreciated it.”

  She waves a red patchy hand. “Oh, that was nothing. You guys make great roommates. No complaints from me.”

  “And it's been fun getting to know you,” I say. “You're such a congenial person…you have such a great disposition.”

  “Really?” she seems surprised by this. Then she laughs. “Oh, you mean when I've been drinking. Everyone thinks I'm fun then.”

  “No,” I say quickly. “I mean when you're sober, Shelby. You're a really sweet person when you're sober.”

  She frowns. “Oh.”

  “And you're a smart girl,” says Ian. “Witty and funny and clever. You seem to have a lot of potential.”

  She frowns now. “Hey, what's going on here? Am I about to die or something? What are you guys up to anyway?”

  “You're not about to die, Shelby,” says Ryan. “We just want you to know that we like you. We care about you. You've got so much going for you, Shelby. I remember how you used to be back in high school, how you cared about people, how you took your faith seriously. You were an amazing girl.”

  “But I've changed,” she says in a stiff voice.