Alice on Board

by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

  Pamela and I stood at the rail of the Chesapeake deck, scouring the crowd gathered below.

  “There they are!” she cried, pointing them out.

  A tall, slim man in a dark brown sport shirt and tan pants, canvas bag over one shoulder, was pulling a suitcase, and walking beside him was a woman not much shorter, dark glasses beneath her sun visor, denim skirt, and tee.

  Pamela was waving wildly. “Dad! Hi, Dad!” she called. “Meredith! Up here!”

  The mustached man shielded his eyes and looked around, smiling, then focused on us and waved back, grinning.

  “Hey, Pamela!” Meredith called, smiling broadly.

  Pamela scrambled on down to meet them while I zipped to crew quarters for my camera.

  “I’ll get a picture of the three of you when we have a chance,” I told Pamela later when we met on the main deck. “How do they like their room?”

  “They like it, I think. I know Meredith does. It’s smaller than Dad expected, but he likes the view. Curtis just delivered their bags, so they’re putting stuff away right now.”

  “It’s nice that they came, Pamela,” I told her. “I mean, that they’re interested in where you’re working this summer, sort of including you in their lives, you know?”

  “That’s what I was thinking. And Dad’s looking really relaxed. I think she’s good for him. I hope they do get married.”

  We were heading up the stairs to the lounge deck when Pamela suddenly grabbed my arm to hold me back, her eyes huge.

  “What?” I said, looking at her pale face. “What?”

  Pamela’s lips moved, but no sound came out. Her nails dug into my arm.

  “Mom …” she said finally.

  13

  UNBELIEVABLE

  It was definitely Mrs. Jones.

  The petite woman in the white pants and silky aqua top, clunky bracelets along one arm, was having a lighthearted conversation with a portly man about ship terminology.

  “Here’s the way I remember,” the gentleman was saying. “When you bow”—and he demonstrated—“you lean forward. Remember that, and you’ll automatically remember that the stern is in the rear.”

  Mrs. Jones laughed her high, tinkly laugh and thanked him as she strolled on, straw bag slung over one shoulder, platform shoes encasing her red-painted toenails.

  Pamela turned to me with an expression of complete helplessness. Her face had gone from pale to pink. “What is she doing here? What can she be thinking?”

  “Do you figure she knew that your dad and Meredith had signed up for this cruise?” I asked her.

  “Of course she knew. Why else would she have come and not told me? I can’t believe this!”

  “Wait a minute,” I said, pulling Pamela back as she started forward. “It’s a stretch, but isn’t it possible that she looked up the cruise line on the Internet—just like Meredith did—to see the kind of ship you were working on and read about the big discount they were offering for July? That she jumped at the chance and signed up, just as they did?”

  Pamela shook her head, eyes blazing now. “Not without telling me.”

  “You haven’t been answering her calls… .”

  “No, but I’ve been reading her texts and I text her back once a week. Alice, don’t you remember how she embarrassed me back in tenth grade when she signed up as a chaperone on the class trip to New York? That’s the real Mom, in all her glory, come to mess things up for Dad and Meredith.”

  “Girls?” Dianne frowned as she passed. “We have enough help up here. Would you go back to the gangway and direct passengers from there?”

  “Sure,” I said, and my hand still gripping Pamela’s arm, I guided her back down the stairs.

  Pamela’s “welcome smile” was a little too fake, but boarding passengers were either so confused or so excited, they didn’t seem to notice the artificiality. The first pause we had in the stream of guests, however, Pamela got a copy of the passenger list from the reception desk—the list that would appear in all the rooms that night so people could get acquainted—and we scanned it quickly for her mom’s name. Common as the name “Jones” is, there was only one listing: Bill Jones and Meredith Mercer, Silver Spring, Maryland.

  “Your mom’s not listed!” I said. “What is she? A stowaway?”

  Pamela started at the beginning again and slowly traced her finger down the page, stopping at Sherry Conners, Silver Spring, Maryland.

  “Here she is—her maiden name,” said Pamela. “What if they’re on the same deck? Oh, my God, Alice, what am I going to do?”

  “Why do you have to do anything, Pamela?” I asked her. “You aren’t involved in the hostilities. You didn’t sign them up. None of the other passengers know they used to be married to each other. What will be will be.”

  “Yeah, and it could be awful,” said Pamela.

  “That will be between them if it is.”

  “I just feel so sad for Dad and Meredith. This was supposed to be such a fun trip,” Pamela said, and I saw her lips tremble.

  I stayed close to her for the next hour. I didn’t see Mrs. Jones again, but I saw Pamela’s dad standing in the doorway of his stateroom as we escorted a passenger up to her room, and when he saw Pamela, he called, “Pamela, when you have a minute, would you step in here?”

  I watched her go in his cabin, a sinking feeling in my chest.

  * * *

  I had only a few minutes to talk with Pamela when we went down to crew quarters to freshen up for dinner service. It was the first time some of us had waited tables at dinner, so Pamela and I were nervous enough as it was.

  “What happened with your dad?” I asked.

  “He said he’d seen Mom in the lounge and wanted to know what the hell was going on—whether I’d known she was coming, which of course I hadn’t.”

  “He’s blaming you?”

  “Not really, but he’s pissed, and he’s got a right to be.”

  “How did your mom find out they’d signed up, do you suppose?”

  Pamela unbuttoned her shirt, rubbed deodorant in her armpits, and buttoned up again. “She’s got spies. One of her friends works in the same hospital as Meredith, and it isn’t too hard to find out who’s going where and when.”

  Gwen came in just then to put on her bow tie. She took one look at Pamela and me and said, “What’s going on?”

  “Mom’s on board,” Pamela told her.

  Gwen looked confused for a moment, and then her eyes widened. “Your mom?”

  “Yes. Under her maiden name, Sherry Conners. Dad just found out.”

  “You saw her here? Omigod!” Gwen gasped.

  We heard the clattering of footsteps on the stairs down the hall, and Liz burst in, followed by Emily and Rachel. “Pamela, I just saw your mom!” Liz cried.

  “I know.” Pamela flopped down on the edge of her bunk. To Emily and Rachel she said, “My dad’s on board with his longtime girlfriend, and somehow, for some reason, my mom’s here too.”

  Emily could only stare. “They’re … divorced?”

  “Yes,” Pamela said. “And just when things are starting to go well for Dad—after Mom left us a few years back …”

  “I’m surprised he didn’t leave the ship,” I said, remembering some awful arguments they’d had in the past.

  “Well, that was his first reaction, but Meredith talked him out of it. ‘Are we going to let Sherry control our lives?’ she asked him. She said they’d come on this cruise to relax and have fun, and that’s what she intended to do. ‘If Sherry wants to make a scene,’ she said, ‘she’ll have to do it without any help from us.’ And finally Dad simmered down.” Pamela gritted her teeth. I could actually hear them grinding. “She is so darn, damned selfish!”

  “Oh, man!” Emily said. “What a situation!”

  “What a mom!” said Rachel. “And I don’t even know her.”

  “Dining crew!” came Dianne’s voice from the end of the hall.

  “Coming!” I yelled.

 
; “I just hope I don’t get Mom’s table,” breathed Pamela. “I don’t trust myself to keep my cool. But I can’t pretend I don’t know her.”

  When we reached the main deck, Dianne took Pamela and me aside and into her office across the hall.

  “I have a feeling there’s something I should know,” she said. “And I’d like you to level with me before we leave port. You both look upset, and I’m going to need your full concentration in the dining room.”

  A horrible thought crossed my mind. Could we both get sacked because of Pamela’s mother?

  Pamela gave a little groan. “Well, my parents are divorced, and my dad and his girlfriend are on board, as you know …”

  “Yes?” Dianne studied us.

  “… and so is my mom.”

  Dianne looked confused. “I don’t remember another Jones on the passenger list.”

  “She’s under her maiden name, Conners. They don’t get along, to put it mildly, and I just don’t know what will happen. No one knew she was coming.”

  Dianne got the picture. “What will happen as far as the staff goes, Pamela, is that we will treat all our guests with courtesy. If they have issues with each other, that’s between them. If they’re disruptive, Quinton will step in. Believe me, he’s handled such things before. But you’re not responsible for your parents’ behavior. Do your job. That’s all we ask of you.”

  Pamela was visibly relieved. I could tell just by the shift of her shoulders. “Thanks, Dianne,” she said.

  “What Quinton and I will do,” Dianne continued, “is try to seat them far apart in the dining room whenever possible. For tonight, since some people have already arrived and others aren’t wearing their name tags, we’ll just hope for the best.”

  * * *

  We stood at the side of the dining room looking pleasant, small towels draped over our arms, as guests filed in. There was open seating at all meals, but if a couple hesitated or a single person held back, Quinton or Dianne promptly suggested a table and escorted them to it.

  I watched Dianne have a quick conversation with Quinton, saw him listen and nod. But my eyes kept drifting back to Pamela. What was it like to have a mom who acted so hurtfully? What mother in her right mind would get it in her head to follow her ex-husband onto a cruise ship, their daughter watching helplessly from the sidelines?

  My other thought, the one that always followed this question like a shadow, was what was it like to have a mother at all? I’d certainly got the feel of it once Dad married Sylvia. We’d had some arguments, but we also had a few close conversations, and I really did love her. But because she’d come so late in my life, it wasn’t the snuggle-up-sit-on-her-lap-stroke-my-hair kind of love, much as I wanted that, down deep. She treated me as she should have then, as a young teenage girl, and it took a while for me to realize that I couldn’t recapture my five-year-old self and the mother I’d needed then. She was really more like an older sister than a mom—a tutor, a mentor, an aunt, definitely a friend—but not exactly a mom. Right now, though, looking at Pamela, I could tell she wished that Sherry was anything but.

  Mr. Jones and Meredith entered the dining room, still wearing the same clothes they had on when they boarded, as were most of the passengers. The first night aboard ship was always casual—everyone getting unpacked and settled, finding their way around, introducing themselves to each other. I saw Dianne scan their name tags when they came in and direct them to a round table over by the window with three other couples already seated, which meant that Pamela’s mom couldn’t possibly sit with them this first night. Six more nights to go, plus breakfasts and lunches, too.

  As the room filled up, the noise level grew louder and I began to wonder if Pamela’s mom had already come in and I’d missed her. Then a small woman in black silk trousers and a red clingy top showing lots of cleavage appeared in the doorway, crystal globes at her ears, and she stood there poised, expectant.

  Quinton bent slightly to read her name tag, greeted her with his usual trademark smile, and suggested a place on the opposite side of the room, where two couples were waiting for their table to fill. I heard Pamela exhale gratefully as she picked up a water pitcher and headed to one of her tables. I did the same. We were going to get through this meal okay, even if it was the first time we’d served at dinner.

  “Good evening, and welcome to the Seascape,” I said cheerfully as I filled the glasses. “I hope you’re all feeling a little bit settled?”

  “Getting there!” a red-faced man said jovially. “We’ll let you know after dinner.”

  “As long as we don’t get seasick,” said his wife. “This is my first cruise, and I don’t do very well on boats.”

  “I think you’re going to find it smooth sailing,” I said reassuringly. “I’m Alice, and I have the pleasure of serving you tonight. Someone will be by shortly to take your wine order, and in the meantime, let me know if you’d prefer soup or salad.”

  Across the room I saw Mitch talking to Pamela’s mom, taking her order.

  “Oh, look!” someone said. “We’re moving!”

  Passengers on both sides of the dining room looked toward their windows as Baltimore’s Inner Harbor passed slowly before our eyes and the scenery changed from shops and restaurants to trees and water. Still the ship went on turning, the bow thruster doing its job, and finally, as I took my order to the galley, all I could see out the port side of the ship was water and sky.

  You’ll never believe this, I e-mailed Patrick that night. Pamela’s dad and girlfriend are on this cruise, and guess who else turned up? Pamela’s mom!

  It was like a time bomb, I’d told him. But, as Quinton keeps telling us, every day on a ship is a surprise.

  I don’t know where Pamela went after we cleaned the galley, but when she came up on the top deck around eleven, all the girls were waiting.

  “Well, I confronted her,” she said, pulling a chair over and sinking down in it, hands folded over her stomach. “It didn’t take me long to learn what room she’s in—311, Chesapeake deck. I wasn’t going to go the whole trip pretending I didn’t know her.”

  “What did she say?” Liz asked. “How did she explain herself?”

  “She didn’t, and I don’t know what to think. I followed her to her stateroom and said, ‘Mom, how could you do this?’ and she said, ‘Do what? Is it so awful I wanted to surprise you?’”

  We all rolled our eyes.

  “‘You know Dad and Meredith are on this ship,’ I told her, and she said, ‘Then they must have seen the same advertisement I saw, for bargain rates.’”

  Lauren shook her head. “No, that’s not the reaction a normal person would have had. That was just too cool and premeditated. If she hadn’t known, she’d be completely surprised.”

  We agreed. But Pamela looked torn. “Still … it’s possible, I suppose. And I’d feel ashamed if she really did just want to surprise me and didn’t know they were here. And instead of being happy, I’m treating her like a criminal.”

  “Well, then, take her at her word!” Emily said. “Treat her like all the other guests and assume she’ll make new friends. At least they’re not on the same deck. Maybe she and your dad will simply ignore each other the whole trip, and all this worry will be for nothing.”

  At Norfolk the next day, Mr. Jones and Meredith went off to see the shipyard, and Pamela’s mom stretched out on the observation deck in shorts and a halter top, with a drink and a magazine.

  When she came to the captain’s reception that evening, she was the most mesmerizing of the guests, in a short sequined cocktail dress, shockingly tight around the bust, and silver stilettos that would have killed a man if she’d used them as a weapon.

  “Oh … my … God!’ gasped Natalie, who was replacing the steamed shrimp platter. She looked at Pamela. “Is that your mom?”

  “Does it show?” Pamela said.

  “I just meant … wow!” Natalie said.

  Mrs. Jones—Sherry—didn’t do anything out of line, exactly. S
he didn’t strike a model’s pose in the doorway, but she had timed her entrance so that she was one of the last to arrive and could linger a bit longer with the captain and first mate. People did take notice.

  Lauren overheard her ask the captain if she would be able to see the pilothouse, and he responded that every cruise had a ship’s tour sometime on the schedule, pilothouse included, and she could sign up with either Stephanie Bowers or Ken McCoy.

  Once again, Quinton carefully seated Bill and Meredith many tables away from Sherry, and we were glad to see that Mr. Jones seemed to be enjoying a conversation with the men at his table while Meredith chatted with the woman next to her.

  The subject of Pamela’s mom had been confined so far to the girls, but it came up at the crew dinner later that night. We had taken our dinners up to the observation deck and were chowing down on Sloppy Joes and fries when Barry asked, “Anyone know when the tour of the ship will be? The broad in the Saran Wrap dress was asking, and I said I’d try to find out.”

  We girls frowned his way. “The broad?” said Gwen, reprimanding him. “That is so forties.”

  “Okay, the silver stiletto babe,” Barry said, and then, realizing he’d done it again, “Sherry Conners.”

  “That happens to be Pamela’s mom,” said Emily.

  Barry did a double take. “Whoa! Sorry! But … wow!”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said,” Natalie told him. “Pamela comes from hot stock.”

  I didn’t know if Pamela had wanted us to keep it secret or not, but once it was out, it seemed easier, even for her.

  “We’ve got a problem here,” Lauren said, and told the guys about how Pamela’s dad and girlfriend were on this cruise and how, somehow, Pamela’s mom had booked herself on the very same one; we were trying to see that Sherry Conners didn’t ruin the trip for them.

  “They should all have code names,” said Curtis, the snake-and-flag tattoo on his left arm moving a little when he flexed a muscle. “I could get on my walkie-talkie and say, ‘Decup three stern.’”