Swinging on a Star by Janice Thompson Page A

Joey, Twila, Jolene, and Bonnie Sue all followed along behind me, as if I were the Pied Piper. As I swung open the door, I came face-to-face with a strange man with a camera in his hand. A flash went off, nearly blinding me, and I let out a bloodcurdling scream. That didn’t seem to faze him.
    “I’m a reporter with the—”
    He never had a chance to finish. I yelled, “Get off our property before I call the police!” then slammed the door in his face. The noise awakened just about everyone in the house. Mama and Rosa came sprinting down the stairs, still dressed in their nighties. They took one look at the trio of sisters and began to squeal with delight. Then Mama turned my way.
    “Who was that at the door, Bella?”
    “I . . . I think it was the paparazzi!”
    Bonnie Sue looked as if she might faint as she heard the word. “P-p-paparazzi?” She looked at the other sisters. “Do . . . do you think they’re after us?”
    Joey snorted with laughter, then quickly tried to disguise it as a sneeze. Nice attempt, anyway.
    Twila giggled. “I don’t know, honey, but I guess it’s possible.” Turning to me, she explained. “We were a smashing success on the ship—with the passengers and the captain.”
    “Oh?” I wasn’t sure what this had to do with the paparazzi, but I kept listening.
    “Yes. And we had the prestigious honor of being asked to sit at the captain’s table. How do you like them apples?” She beamed with delight.
    “The captain’s table?” Mama looked shocked. “How did that happen?”
    I could hardly believe this news myself. To sit at a captain’s table usually required knowing someone pretty important. Or being someone pretty important.
    “Well, here’s the thing.” Jolene smiled. “One of the gals who judged the big karaoke event heard us singing and told him all about it.”
    “Singing?” This was news.
    “Oh, honey . . .” Bonnie Sue giggled. “We were all the rage last night at the big karaoke final. But anyway, back to the story. The next thing you know, there we were, dressed in sequins, singing for the captain. It was the fancy night, you know.”
    “Fancy night?”
    “Formal night,” Twila said with a yawn. “They have at least one formal night per week on the ship, so we got trussed up like chickens in our opera dresses and moseyed in to meet the captain. He heard us sing, then asked us to sit at his table. But I think . . .” Twila leaned in to whisper. “I think he had his eye on Jolene.”
    “Oh, hush, Twila.” Jolene giggled. “No doubt the man is just nice to everyone. But I must admit he’s the handsomest man God ever did put on this earth. Oh, you should’ve seen him, ladies. He was tall and tanned, with a silver moustache and perfectly placed silver hair.”
    “Perfectly placed, humph!” Bonnie Sue laughed. “There’s a reason it was perfectly placed. The man was wearing a hairpiece.”
    “Oh.” Jolene’s expression darkened. “Anyway, his name is Bjorn and he’s from Norway.”
    “Of course.” Mama nodded. “They’re all named Bjorn.”
    They are?
    “Bjorn’s wife died a few years ago,” Twila said. “He’s a widower now.”
    “Poor guy,” I said. “So now he spends his days traveling the seas?”
    “Yes, and he meets literally thousands of beautiful women,” Bonnie Sue said. “But the fairest of them all—at least from what we could tell—was Jolene.”
    “Wow.” I didn’t know what to say, but Rosa sure did. She jumped on the story with full vigor.
    “That’s the most wonderful thing I’ve heard in years, Jolene! I’m so happy for you. In fact, I’m so taken by your story that I might just have to go on a cruise myself.” Rosa took Jolene by the arm, giggling like a schoolgirl.
    I could almost envision my aunt on a cruise ship. Of course, there would be that one little problem at dinnertime. She rarely ate food that she hadn’t cooked herself. Still, if we could overcome that one obstacle, she’d probably have