Free Wanderlost by Jen Malone Page A

an English-to-Spanish translation app on my smartphone; however, my smartphone is apparently crisscrossing the Atlantic Ocean considering the hotel still has no messages for me regarding my luggage. The mother of the person who holds my sister’s career in her hands is on my tour and about to bear witness to the mega-disaster that awaits me.
    I really hope Elizabeth has a fallback career in mind.
    Fortunately, about two seconds after Mrs. Shemkovich drops her bombshell, the waitress arrives to take our breakfast orders, so I don’t have to wrap my brain around a response.
    It turns out pancakes are kind of a “thing” in the Netherlands, at least according to our server. She hands me a menu with topping combinations I guarantee IHOP has nevereven heard of. Um, shawarma pancakes? Pepperoni pancakes? Rabbit-and-deer -topped pancakes?! Swear to God. They’re on my menu.
    â€œCould I please have butter and maple syrup pancakes?” I ask the waitress. She looks disappointed.
    Conversations swirl around for a bit as everyone plays the “Oh, my best friend’s cousin’s hairdresser lives in Texas, I wonder if you know him” game. It isn’t until the waitress is placing pancakes in front of us that attention turns back to me.
    â€œSo what’s on tap for you today, fearless leader?” Hank says in his freakishly loud voice, which guarantees everyone is now listening.
    â€œWell, funny you should ask,” I say. I swallow my panic. “I was thinking we could take a vote to see what everyone would most like to do. I figured it might be a nice way to show right from the start that, as your tour guide, I care deeply about your input into our trip too. What do you think about that?”
    â€œBut it says here we’re supposed to go on a dinner cruise through the canals at six o’clock tonight,” says Mary.
    Says here? Where’s here? I look down the table at the sheet of paper in her hand. I must get hold of that paper. In the meantime, I arrange my face into a carefree expression.
    â€œOh, of course we’re doing the canal dinner cruise. I’m sure we’ve already paid for it and reserved the boat and everything. I mean, we have. I know we have. Now, what does your sheet have us doing this morning? Let’s vote on that activity.”
    â€œIt’s a free day until six o’clock,” Mary replies, sounding puzzled.
    Oh. It’s a free day. I busy myself with my pancakes and try not to acknowledge that my grand gesture of democracy just makes me look kind of idiotic. I steal a glance at Dolores to see if she’s reaching for a phone to call her daughter yet. Fortunately, she’s too busy sawing into plain, dry pancakes. Wow, that’s even more boring than mine.
    â€œElizabeth?”
    I rub the butter pat around with the back of my fork to melt it.
    â€œElizabeth?”
    I drizzle maple syrup in a pattern across the top of my stack.
    â€œElizabeth!”
    Hmm? Oh, whoops! Mr. Fenton is talking to me .
    â€œSorry. I was distracted. Actually, I don’t usually go by Elizabeth. Um, I prefer Lizzie. If everyone would please call me Lizzie, it would be great.”
    Okay, where the heck did that just come from? Elizabeth would one hundred percent throw herself off a bridge if anyone dared to call her Lizzie. But maybe a little distance from my sister is just what I need in this situation, and my brain somehow knew it.
    â€œOh, okay, Lizzie , ” says Mr. Fenton. It’s a little weird that he didn’t give his first name when everyone else did, but he’s definitely the most formal one here so it kind of suits him. “I was just going to say that it is quite nice of you to volunteer your free time to spend with us today. Did you have any suggestions for us to vote on?”
    I gave up a free day. Drat.
    I hold up a stack of brochures and begin to leaf through them. “There’s the Van Gogh Museum, the royal