Page 30 of Cruel Christmas Cruise (Cruising Through Midlife: Cruise Ship Cozy Mysteries #12)

The city is transformed into a Christmas card come to life, with wreaths on lampposts and miles of twinkle lights strung across storefronts. The smell of roasting chestnuts and cinnamon fills the air, punctuated by the occasional whiff of exhaust from the iconic black cabs.

I’m more than a little breathless by the time we reach The Crown Jewel, an imposing Tudor-style pub with a sign featuring a crown stuffed with pound notes. The windows glow with a warm, inviting light, a stark contrast to the rapidly darkening London afternoon.

I spot Parker, and just as I’m about to smile, I spot something else and gasp instead.

To my surprise, a welcoming committee awaits us outside the restaurant’s doors—not just Parker, but my daughter Abbey, Ransom’s daughter Emerson, Wes’ sons Owen and Carter, and Bess’ granddaughter Kelsey—all grinning as if they’ve pulled off the heist of the century. And believe me, they have .

And standing slightly apart from the group, like the ghost of Christmas Awkward Past, is my ex-husband Stanton.

He’s tall, barrel-chested, with the face of a deity—if that deity was a hundred pounds overweight and had a chin that dipped down to their belly.

His blond hair has gone to gray, and mostly fallen right off his scalp, and his soft brown eyes have hardened over the years.

“ Surprise! ” Parker calls out, rushing forward to give me a hug.

“What?” I cry out. “But what about those text messages this morning? You made it sound as if you were all an entire ocean away!” I cry out as I take in the crew I believed was firmly planted in the USA.

“We tricked you!” Abbey shouts with glee as she wraps her arms around me.

After a flurry of hugs and kisses—highlighted by the fact that Abbey is still seeing Owen (Wes’ older son studying medicine), Kelsey is still seeing Carter (Wes’ younger son studying law), and Parker is still seeing Emerson (Ransom’s daughter)—I find myself face-to-face with Stanton.

“Merry Christmas, Trix,” he says, patting his chest as if he were the gift he was giving me.

Is it too early to ask for an exchange?

Thankfully, I’ve already made one. I pull Ransom in close as if to prove the point.

“Merry Christmas. Is Neelie here, too?” I ask, searching for his much younger fiancée. We’ve already met in person before, and sadly she didn’t take my advice and steer clear of Stanton. Although Neelie made it clear she was less into Stanton and more into the financial prospects he provides.

“Nope.” He grins. “Just me. I’m all yours for the holiday.”

We all share a laugh that carries only a hint of the awkwardness you’d expect from this blended, complicated family tree that looks more like a tangled bush.

“Well”—Wes says, clapping his hands together—“this is certainly going to be a Christmas to remember.”

The sound of sleigh bells suddenly rings out overhead.

We all look up into the dark sky, and my jaw drops at the impossible sight above us—a sleigh pulled by eight tiny reindeer, the ninth in front with an unmistakably bright red nose, and a jolly figure in a red fluffy suit guiding them through the dark London sky.

“Is everyone else seeing this?” I whisper, wondering if the excitement of the day has finally caused a collective hallucination.

“ Santa ,” Nettie breathes out the name as her face transforms into childlike wonder. “The real Santa!”

As if on cue, the first flakes of snow begin to fall around us, like confectionary sugar dusting a perfect Christmas dessert.

Within moments, the soft white flakes are catching in everyone’s hair and eyelashes, transforming the London street into a scene straight out of a snow globe.

It’s picture-perfect, storybook Christmas magic.

We head inside and settle around the table, this mismatched family of mine—biological, step, and chosen.

The pub serves a traditional Christmas feast with all the trimmings—roast turkey, crispy potatoes, Brussels sprouts that even the kids are eating without complaint, and enough Yorkshire puddings to build a small fort.

The conversation flows as freely as the spiced cider, punctuated by laughter and the occasional friendly argument.

(Those arguments are mostly between Wes and Ransom—and Stanton, too.

Who knew that even he could fit in so well?)

As I look around the table, I feel a warmth that has nothing to do with the roaring fire in the hearth. Here we are—ship captains and security experts, students, questionable plastic surgeons, and retirees—connected by bonds stronger than blood.

“A toast,” Wes says, raising his glass. “To family, however you define it.”

“To justice,” adds Ransom, with a meaningful look my way.

“To ghosts,” I murmur, too quietly for anyone but Ransom to hear.

We clink glasses as the snow falls more heavily outside, transforming London into a winter wonderland. It’s the perfect ending to a decidedly imperfect adventure.

But even as I savor the moment, I can’t quite shake the feeling that this is merely an intermission. Soon enough, the Emerald Queen of the Seas will continue her journey, carrying passengers with secrets, grudges, and perhaps even murderous intentions.

She’s already calling me back, because trouble always seems to find me, especially when there’s a killer on board.

Thank you for reading!