Free Wanderlost by Jen Malone

Hank and Maisy.”
    Everyone else at the table parrots me as Hank sits and pulls a still-giggling Maisy onto his lap.
    Next to Hank, a refined-looking man stands. He’s African-American, with a full salt-and-pepper beard and a neatly trimmed buzzed haircut. His khakis are pressed with a sharp crease and, even though it’s summer, he’s wearing a navy blazer over a button-down dress shirt. He clears his throat. “ Goedemorgen . That was Dutch for ‘good morning.’ I try to learn the local ‘good day’s, ‘please’s, and ‘thank you’s when I travel.” He clears his throat again and continues in his gentle voice. “My name is Mr. Fenton, I’m from Aurora, Colorado, and this is my third organized tour. I’m really looking forward to getting to know everyone.”
    â€œHow do you say that ‘good morning’ again?” one of the women asks.
    â€œGoedemorgen . ”
    The whole table repeats it.
    Mr. Fenton stays standing to pull out the chair for the woman seated next to him. If I were a hundred years older, I’d totally be crushing on him.
    The woman he helps up is on the frail side and I finally know what the expression “bird-boned” means. She looks like a flyswatter could topple her over. But her voice is strong and her smile is friendly.
    â€œHello, everyone. My name is Emma Jordan and I’m fromConnecticut, just outside of Hartford. I’m traveling with my closest friend in the world, Mary O’Brien, and this trip has been a dream of ours since we were little girls listening to the serial Escape on my daddy’s radio.”
    â€œOh, I loved me that show,” Hank booms. A few others nod.
    Mary stands too now and holds Emma’s hand. She and Emma are like Jack Sprat and his wife, because everywhere that Emma is skin and bones, Mary is soft layers of fat. I’ll bet a hug from her would be like being wrapped in towels straight out of the dryer. Her eyes are as warm as melted chocolate and her grin has everyone around the table smiling back at her.
    â€œI’m going to warn you all right now that Emma and I can sometimes bicker, but pay us no mind. We thought it would help us get cast on The Amazing Race , but apparently they’d already filled the ‘old people team’ spot by the time we showed up and we were worried if we waited for next season, one of us might not be around. So here we are.”
    I stifle a laugh, but it turns out I don’t need to because everyone else laughs out loud.
    â€œAnyhoo, if it gets annoying, you just tell me to ‘shut up, Mary.’ I promise I won’t mind. Half the time I walk around saying it to myself anyway.”
    Emma reaches over and bops Mary on the head, which makes everyone laugh again. With the exception of Texas Hank, I have the sweetest group of grans and grampses possible. Jackpot! Maybe this won’t be so bad.
    The last woman at the table pushes back and her chair scrapes along the floor. I cringe at the sound. She’s got mousy brown hair and a double chin, even though she’s pretty thin. Her shoulders hunch in and when she speaks, we all have to lean in a bit to hear her. “Hello, everyone. My name is Dolores Shemkovich. I’m from Dayton, Ohio.”
    Her voice hits every syllable like she’s giving a formal speech to the queen. Wow, though. From Ohio. What are the odds?
    â€œI’m from Ohio too,” I tell her. “And our tour company is based in Dayton. What a coincidence.”
    She looks over at me and gives a tiny shrug. “Oh, no, dear. No coincidence. You see, the company is owned by my daughter.”
    Her daughter?!

NINE
    I’m in a foreign land. With no itinerary of the tour I am supposed to be leading, much less the actual information I am supposed to be imparting to the six individuals entrusted to my care. The driver of my tour bus speaks only Spanish. I do not speak Spanish. I do have