Fleur De Lies(57)
Rob noted the time. “Would you excuse me?” He ranged a look around the area where the guests had assembled. “I need to make a phone call to see what’s happened with our local guide. She’s running late.”
“So, Bernice—” I ducked quickly to avoid getting my eye poked out by her umbrella. “I was under the impression you’d voted to skip the port walk.”
“You never get it right, do you? The wusses voted to ditch the walk. I voted to take it.”
“You’re not worried about ruining your orthotics?”
“What orthotics? My feet are perfect … thanks to two over-priced bunion ectomies and Medicare parts A, B, C, and D. So what am I supposed to do with all this junk they crammed down my throat at the front desk?”
“This is your receiver.” I plucked the bar soap-sized gizmo from her hand and looped the attached lanyard around her neck. “When you plug your earbuds into it, you’re supposed to be able to hear whatever the person on the transmitting end is saying.”
“Who’s gonna be on the transmitting end?”
“The local guide, I assume.”
She stared down at the added clutter on her chest. “It’s covering up my name tag.”
“Why don’t we join the crowd so we can get further operating instructions?”
“Slackers. What’s wrong with the guides in France that they can’t scream the information at us like all the other guides do?”
We skirted the perimeter of the group until we reached what I deduced might become the front of the pack since it was closest to the stairs that linked the river promenade to the street above. Faces were obscured within hoods and beneath umbrellas, but I was able to pick out Woody and some of the men he’d been sitting with last night. Cal huddled with a few of his buddies in the opposite direction of where Woody was standing. Victor was here with Virginia, which surprised me. I thought he might be too devastated to venture off the boat today, but perhaps a long walk in the rain would help soothe his emotional upheaval. I didn’t see Bobbi or Dawna until I caught sight of their blonde hair in the middle of the group, surrounded by a phalanx of doe-eyed males.
“Could I have your attention, please?” Rob hopped up on a bench with his yellow umbrella. “Our local guide is running a few minutes late, so this is a good time to introduce you to our mobile speaker system. Have you all hung your receivers around your necks?”
Nods. Mumbles.
“Locate the dial on top of your receiver and turn it to channel four.”
Studied silence. Heavy breathing.
“My receiver doesn’t have a dial,” complained an older male voice.
“Move your thumb,” suggested another guest. “It’s underneath.”
“Is everyone on channel four?” asked Rob.
“What’s on the other channels?” someone called out.
“We’re only interested in channel four. Now, plug your headphones into the port on the side of your receiver.”
“I didn’t get any headphones,” protested a female guest.
Rob held up the cellophane package containing our audio equipment. “Headphones, earphones. Whatever. Plug the prong into your receiver.”
A woman standing nearby sniggered to her friend as she ripped open the pouch containing a coil of spaghetti wire that resembled string licorice. “I’m glad he explained what’s inside here. I thought it was a mid-morning snack.”