“Hotel” sounded the same in several languages, but Marissa didn’t let herself hope until she saw for herself that the trail opened to a plaza, at the far end of which sat a sprawling, whitewashed building with a sparkling fountain. Beyond that a curving beach embraced a deep-set lagoon, with thatched bungalows nestled under palm trees. The tableau was completed by an obviously surprised bellman who was rapidly joined by several more equally agog uniformed coworkers.

The babble of languages was overwhelming but in short order they were all seated in the small lobby, tumblers of fruit juice in one hand and a hunk of fresh, sweet bread in the other. Gregorio immediately went with the manager to use the phone.

“I told you we were on Huahine!” The Brit was extremely pleased with himself, as evidenced by his repeating himself several more times.

Marissa finished the bread—nothing had ever tasted so wonderful—and gratefully accepted a wedge of papaya and a dozen roasted filberts from the tray being circulated by a wide-eyed teen.

If that wasn’t unreal enough, Linda sat beside her on the small couch, looking as if she’d just finished a casual stroll.

“It’s okay to feel like you’re on Candid Camera,” Linda observed.

“I was thinking more like I’d slipped into an alternate reality. Now I’ll never get to be Ginger.”

With a fascinating quirk to her lips, Linda said, “You can be Ginger any time you want.”

“I’m not sure I want to be that helpless.”

“I can see that.” Linda finished her papaya slice and licked her long, nimble fingers. Marissa did not stare. Not a lot, anyway. She wondered if near-death experiences caused people to have outrageous fantasies. “Helpless isn’t in my comfort zone either. We’re both too strong to play that game.”

“Strong? If I tried to stand up right now I think my legs would buckle.”

“Just reaction.” Linda again gave her a cheeky smile. “That or you secretly would like to be Ginger from time to time. Nothing wrong with that.”

The conversation was getting as bizarre as the entire trip. Nevertheless, that look in Linda’s eyes was mystifying and intriguing. Marissa wasn’t sure anyone had ever looked at her like that before. She really didn’t know what to make of it. “I’m not sure a Sixties sexpot will stand up as a rigorous analogy.”

Linda laughed. “Is there another you’d prefer?”

She went for the obvious. “Xena? Wonder Woman?”

The bright smile dimmed slightly. “Go ahead, say it.”

“You do know you look a little bit . . . Okay, a lot like . . . ?”

Linda’s smile faded further and for the first time she looked away as if the conversation no longer interested her. “Yeah. Believe me, I know.” With an obvious effort at calm, she added, “My eyes are brown so I can’t be either.”

“You could have your legs shortened and dye your hair gray to avoid any comparisons.”

“No thanks. I’m doing my best to stay out of doctor’s offices from now on.”