The Do-Over(79)

“We need to win this,” my competitive daughter said to Wes.

“We need more duct tape and ornament hooks,” he responded as he wrapped garland around the boat’s rail.

“Mom, can you go to the gift shop for us and see if they have any.”

Grabbing my purse, “I’ll be back in a little bit.” As I walked along the dock toward the red-roofed resort, I couldn’t help but smile. Scarlett and Wes were totally caught up in decorating the boat for the Annual Holiday Boat Parade Competition. Scarlett had read about it before the trip and the two of them had been picking up kitschy holiday items ever since.

With so many guests arriving by boat, their gift shop, The Emporium, was more like a small town’s general store, stocked with so much more than sundry items, as many of the mooring clientele had repairs to make to their vessels upon arrival or before departure and enjoyed many meals on their own accommodations.

Immediately finding the duct tape and ornament hooks, I started to browse the store looking for small souvenirs to bring home to Laynie, Jill, Jonathan and Chris. They had the usual assortment of key chains, shot glasses and glass ornaments with shells and sand inside. I loaded several cute ornaments into my basket and moved on. Seeing the shelves lined with packaged cupcakes and donuts as well as single servings of Chef Winston’s famous Key lime pie, spurred a great idea. I would go to the restaurant and see if I could buy a whole pie to take back to the boat for dessert tonight.

Turning toward the checkout counter, I was shocked as I looked into her familiar, smiling face. The painful jolt in my chest made me gasp out loud and drop my basket, causing one of the glass ornaments to shatter. How could it be? Was I just imagining this?

Looking down for a moment to grab the basket at my feet, I realized I was practically hyperventilating. When I straightened up, no one was there. The checkout girl was looking at me, “Don’t worry. I’ll clean that up. Go pick out another one.”

“The woman who was here, where did she go?” I asked, totally bugging out.

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t see her.” The girl shrugged.

“She was standing right there.” I pointed to right in front of the checkout counter.

Shaking her head, the cashier said, “Sorry.”

Going back down the aisle to replace the broken ornament, I stopped for a moment, leaned against a shelving unit and took a deep breath.

It couldn’t have been her. She would probably be dead by now. She was an old woman when I met her. And Dominica must be hundreds of miles from here. It’s in the Windward Islands’ chain and this is the British Virgin Islands. But that smile, that toothless smile. And the way she looked at me. Like she knew me. It was her. It was definitely her.

Realizing that I was shaking, I put my basket down. Maybe I was just dehydrated or something, I wondered, because I would have sworn the old woman who gave me the poppets had just been standing a few feet away from me, smiling her toothless smile. I needed to get out of there. Picking up the basket, I quickly chose another ornament and paid for my purchases.

Greeted by a hostess at the restaurant, I asked if I could possibly purchase a whole Key lime pie. While she left me to go into the kitchen and check, I dug out a water bottle from my purse and took two healthy swigs before putting it back in my bag. When I looked up, coming toward me in his crisp, white chef’s jacket, the pastry chef extraordinaire greeted me with a warm, wide smile.

“How are you today?” he asked.

“I’m wonderful. I was hoping to purchase one of your delicious pies so that we could enjoy it on our boat tonight after the Boat Parade,” I explained.

“Absolutely, you can. But there is something else I’d like to show you that you may want even more.” He piqued my curiosity.

“Even more than your famous Key lime pie?” I couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Yes, it is very special and I only make it for Christmas. Follow me.”

Joining him as he walked back to the kitchen, the scent was like following my nose to Heaven. The air was heavy with the aromas of butter, cinnamon and cloves and I thought I might never want to leave. Pastry Chef in the Caribbean might be the perfect career move.

Baking sheets lined with parchment covered the countertops. Rolls, croissants, and pies cooled, while warm fragrant air wafted from the ovens. Winston led me to the far end of the kitchen, where a countertop was lined with round cakes heavily dusted with powdered sugar. Their fragrance was intoxicating. Literally.

“How much rum went into these babies?” I smiled at the Pastry Chef.

“You are in the British Virgin Islands,” he laughed.

“And these are real English Christmas Cakes, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they are.”

“You know I can’t leave without one,” I sighed.

“I thought you might feel that way.” He then directed a member of his staff to wrap one up for me.

“What took you so long?” Scarlett asked as I boarded The Do-Over.

“I was getting us a proper dessert for later this evening.”



With high hopes, we turned in our ballots for the boat competition before our dinner at The Grille Restaurant.

“I hope we win something.” Scarlett had put her all into it and she and Wes had created a North Pole wonderland.

“We’ll know in a little bit. They’ll be announcing in about two hours,” Wes explained as we were seated at our table.