Dark Passage

FOUR

‘As with any vessel, adequate provisioning is crucial, especially on a cruise ship serving several thousand meals at each seating. For example, passengers and crew on the Royal Caribbean International ship Mariner of the Seas consume 20,000 pounds of beef, 28,000 eggs, 8,000 gallons of ice cream, and 18,000 slices of pizza in a week.’

Wikipedia, March 31, 2013

At the entrance to the Firebird café stood an attractive, dark-haired steward whose name tag read ‘Sheila – Australia,’ a machine dispensing freshly squeezed orange juice, and a hand sanitizer. ‘Norovirus,’ said Ruth, as she gave her hands a squirt and rubbed briskly.

‘A shot of O.J. would probably work just as well,’ I scoffed as we entered the café, an enormous, horseshoe-shaped room with a spectacular 180-degree view. We were ahead of the crowd, thank goodness, so while Ruth held down a table for four in a booth near the window, I grazed the buffet tables, assembling a lunch of pasta Bolognese, green salad and fresh, hot rolls with butter. When I sat down, Ruth took off, but not before a server had appeared out of nowhere to take our orders for drinks. I didn’t usually drink wine with lunch, but what the hell, I thought, handing Pradeep from India – as I worked out from his name tag – my sea pass. ‘A glass of merlot, please.’

Tidal Wave must have passed muster because Georgina joined us after about fifteen minutes carrying a plate heaped with fried chicken, wild rice and sauteed green beans in one hand, and a small dessert bowl in the other.

‘Where’s Julie?’ I mumbled around a mouth full of ziti.

Georgina nodded in the direction of the buffet. ‘Filling up at the salad bar. She claims to be on a diet.’

‘What on earth for? She’s as thin as a rail! When we turned sideways for that photograph I’ll bet she disappeared.’

‘It’ll probably last all of ten minutes once she sees the dessert buffet,’ her mother said, pointing to the bowl that held her brownie smothered in hot caramel sauce.

Ruth eased over so that Georgina could sit down, and a few minutes later I did the same to make room for Julie. ‘What did you think of the teen club?’ I asked my niece.

‘It’s awesome! There’s a disco, and a lounge with a drinks bar where they serve mocktails and stuff. And a separate room with tons of video games.’ She paused to take a breath. ‘And a rock-climbing wall – I can’t wait to try that – and a bungee-jumping trampoline.’

Georgina smiled across the table at her daughter. ‘When Julie asked the youth counselor how many teenagers were on board, she said two hundred and fifty.’ Georgina picked up a green bean between her thumb and forefinger and popped it into her mouth. ‘I don’t know how many counselors it takes to ride herd on that many kids, but I think there’ll be plenty to keep them and our girl occupied.’

Ruth paused, a forkful of beef stroganoff half way to her mouth. ‘Julie? Over there? Don’t look now, but those guys are totally checking you out.’

‘Where?’ Julie’s gaze flit curiously around our section of the dining room, but she was way too cool to turn her head.

‘Up at the grill, in the hamburger line. Wearing the red T-shirts.’

Chin slightly dipped, Julie glanced sideways through her eyelashes. ‘Oh, them.’ Her cheeks flushed. ‘That’s Connor and his cousin, Josh.’

It certainly didn’t take Julie long to make friends, I thought to myself. Aloud I said, ‘They look too old for the teen club.’

‘They are,’ Julie said. ‘Connor and Josh are part of that ginormous reunion group. They’re, like, twenty-one. They showed up at Tidal Wave to check it out for Josh’s little sister. She’s fifteen, but I can’t remember her name.’

Julie scooped up the last of her potato salad, then shot up from her seat. ‘I’m going to check out the desserts.’

As she flounced away, Georgina raised a knowing eyebrow. ‘See? What did I tell you about dessert?’

Julie was still away, presumably trying to decide between the mini cream puffs, chocolate-layer cake, key lime pie and fresh-berry trifle when the public address system crackled to life and the hotel director – in a charming, Continental accent – introduced himself and welcomed us aboard the Phoenix Islander. After summarizing the itinerary and giving us the weather report – sunny, 78°F, 25°C – he informed us that our staterooms were ready.

I volunteered to fetch Julie, only to discover that it wasn’t the enormous selection of desserts that was holding her up; it was – according to the name printed on his Crawford Family T-shirt – blue-eyed, sandy-haired, beachbum-buff Connor. If I had been decades younger… well, never mind. Julie hovered over the sneeze hood separating her from the chocolate-layer cake, feigning indifference as Connor urged her to try it.

I swept in like the Wicked Witch of the West. ‘Say goodbye to Connor, sweetie. It’s time to go to our staterooms.’

Julie grabbed a handful of M &Ms, waggled the fingers of her free hand at Connor, said, ‘See ya!’ and trotted along beside me out of the café. Georgina and Ruth had gone on ahead, so we followed them down the elevators to deck four, amidships on the starboard side.

Ruth was waiting for me in the narrow corridor, leaning against a framed photograph of Santorini – whitewashed houses and churches at sunset, perched along volcanic cliffs. I delivered Julie to her mother, then watched while Ruth slotted her card into the keycard lock, turned the handle, pushed the door open and stepped inside. ‘Wow!’ she said.

Our room was tastefully decorated, spotless and smelled like freshly laundered sheets. Our bags were waiting for us, too, neatly laid out on protective leather pads at the foot of our beds. A sliding glass door led outside to a balcony furnished with a small, round table and pair of wooden deck chairs. I wandered over, opened the door and stepped out into the breezy, early summer afternoon. Today our view was the city of Baltimore. Tomorrow, I knew, we’d be looking out over the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean.

Near the door to the balcony were a two-cushion sofa and a coffee table on which sat a small bottle of champagne buried up to the neck in a bucket of ice. ‘There’s a card with it,’ Ruth said, picking it up. ‘It’s an invitation. Seems Captain Halikias is inviting you and a guest to a cocktail reception tomorrow night.’

‘Cool,’ I said, unzipping my suitcase, looking for my toiletries. ‘You wanna be my guest?’

‘What’s the Neptune Club?’ Ruth wanted to know, glancing up from the invitation.

‘It’s a frequent flyer rewards program for cruising. Paul and I signed up ages ago. Remember that cruise we took to Alaska’s Inner Passage?’ I looked up. ‘I think that Whats-his-name Simonides bought out that cruise line, so the points carried over.’

A polite tap-tap-tap interrupted my explanation. Thinking it’d be Julie or Georgina, I opened the door wide. ‘Is there anything I can get for you, Mrs Ives?’ inquired our steward, whose name was Rodolfo, from the Philippines.

‘I think we’re all set, Rodolfo, but thanks so much for checking.’

As Rudolfo backed out the doorway, smiling broadly, Ruth reached for the champagne. ‘This is what I call a warm welcome!’ She began to remove the foil from the cork. ‘Shall I do the honors?’

‘Absolutely! But wait, let’s get Georgina.’

I thumped the ball of my fist on the door to the adjoining cabin. It swung open almost immediately, and Georgina stuck her head in. ‘Is this a private party, or can anyone join?’

I laughed. ‘Come in, come in. And bring a glass. Where’s Julie?’

‘Taking pictures of the cabin on her iPhone and posting them to Facebook. What else?’

Ruth untwisted the wire hood that held the champagne cork in place, aimed the bottle at the open balcony door. ‘Look out below!’ The cork shot from the bottle and disappeared over the balcony railing. ‘Ooops!’ Ruth giggled. She divided the champagne equally among the three glasses. ‘Cheers!’ she said, handing a glass to me.

I took it and tapped my glass against hers, then Georgina’s. ‘Cheers! To a wonderful cruise!’

‘And remember,’ Ruth said before taking a careful sip. ‘What happens with sisters, stays with sisters.’