by Hanson, Lee
“Let’s walk through the Casino.”
And so they stepped into Circe’s realm of gaily flashing machines with their happy siren songs and cascading coins. The slots were all busy, with several machines chanting, “Wheel-Of-Fortune!” Blinking lights on top of one drew attention to an ecstatic winner, a middle-aged woman in a fancy gold dress, jumping up and down. Smiling servers dressed in black pants and white shirts with black bowties carried trays of colorful cocktails adorned with fruit.
Joe’s pace slowed to a crawl as he avidly scanned every inch of the Casino, his eyes settling on a poker table off to their right.
“Hey, look! It’s Gill Byrne. C’mon, let’s go say hello.”
Joe had done some investigation for Gill Byrne’s attorney when Gill divorced his ex-wife. They had a little girl. That was a big divorce case, Julie recalled. And then we went to his wedding. That was a few years ago and Julie couldn’t remember having seen him since then.
“Hey, Gill,” Joe said. “How’s Lady Luck treating you?”
“See for yourself,” Gill said, smiling and pointing to the chips stacked in front of him. “Hi, Merlin,” he said to Julie, using a nickname which had become her business moniker. “Cathy said your seminar was terrific.”
Oh, my God, that was Cathy who asked that question about family and friends! I didn’t recognize her under that big straw hat. And she was so thin! I hope she’s okay…
“Yes. I saw her there. Where is she?”
“She’s at the cocktail party, getting her picture taken with the Captain. I don’t know what for; it’s not like they don’t take pictures of everybody at the Captain’s Table.”
“We’re sitting at the Captain’s Table, too,” Joe said, happily. “Honey,” he said, turning to Julie, “why don’t you go in and join Cathy. You girls can catch up and I’ll meet you in the dining room at eight.”
Oblivious to Julie’s expression, he turned to Gill and plowed right on.
“You guys don’t mind if I sit in, do you?”
After a good-old-boys’ chorus of “hell, no,” Joe pulled out a chair, leaving Julie no choice but to muster a half-smile and walk away…steaming.
Great, just great. Is this how it’s going to be all night?
Julie was at a loss; she didn’t know how to react to Joe’s altered personality. He’d always been so considerate, always put her feelings first. Maybe I’m spoiled, she thought. This was Joe’s vacation, too, after all. If he wants to play a little poker, why shouldn’t he?
Because it’s not about poker, she told herself, answering her own question. They were on their way to a formal dinner...together.
She was halfway to the Windward Lounge before she got a handle on her negative thoughts. I’m not going to dwell on that, and I’m not going to worry about the rest of the night, either. Being invited to dine with the Captain on a ship like this is special. I’ll enjoy it and so will Joe. I’ll stay “in the moment” and leave tomorrow’s problems for tomorrow.
As a body language expert, Julie knew that smiling was often the first step out of the blues, so she pasted one on and waltzed into the cocktail hour.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 6
There was nowhere left to sit in the Windward Lounge, as passengers with Second Seating in the Main Dining Room were all gathered there waiting for their turn to be photographed in their finery with the Captain and two officers. The early birds sat chatting on comfortable sofas and club chairs, while the late arrivals mingled on the dance floor. A string quartet played light classical music, a pleasant background which didn’t interfere with the hum of conversation.
Julie looked around the room, admiring some of the formal wear. It’s nice to see people dressed so elegantly, she thought. The occasion to dress like this is so rare in Orlando. She spotted a slim woman across the room wearing a stunning emerald green strapless gown. It was Cathy Byrne. She was talking to two women, both in black. One was a tall, nice-looking woman with salt and pepper gray hair. She was wearing a tasteful knee-length dress with a short tuxedo jacket. The other was a younger, familiar woman in a mid-thigh, lacy number that fit as only a designer original can do. The petite woman, with her clipped pixie hairdo and big brown eyes, reminded Julie of Audrey Hepburn playing Sabrina.
Cathy saw Julie and waved her over. “Julie, you look absolutely fabulous!”
“Thank you. So do you,” Julie said, following her lead.
Turning toward the two women Cathy said “This is Adrienne Paradis and Lottie Pelletier. We were just talking about how much we enjoyed your seminar.”
“Thank you so much. It’s a pleasure to meet you. ‘Adrienne, of Paradis Travel,’ Julie said, recognizing the younger woman. “Of course! I knew you looked familiar. I’ve seen your wonderful ads. So tempting! Your office is in Winter Park, isn’t it?”
“Yes, for Central Florida. We have quite a few locations in the state.”
“More like all over the world,” Cathy said.
There was some kind of undercurrent between Cathy and Adrienne that Julie couldn’t quite put her finger on. Were they friends or, what was that new term? Frenemies.
“Is that right?”
“Yes, it is,” Adrienne said. “We’ve been very fortunate. My parents started the business many years ago in Paris.”
“Paris,” Julie said wistfully, “that’s a city I’d love to visit. My friend and I have been talking about it, in fact.”
“Where is Joe? Cathy asked, looking around the room.
“I’m afraid he’s with your husband,” Julie said. “They’re aiding and abetting each other in the Casino.”
All four women smiled knowingly.
“I must go,” Lottie Pelletier said. “I enjoyed your seminar, Julie. Have a good evening everyone,” she said, as she followed the Captain and his entourage from the room.
***
Julie and Cathy arrived in time to join Joe and Gill, who were part of a crowd moving slowly into the Main Dining Room. Joe flashed a big smile at Julie and she returned it, her earlier pique somewhat dissipated. She took his hand and they all moved forward, couple by couple. Looking up at Joe, Julie came to a conclusion despite her concern about his drinking. So far, it just seems to make him more sociable.
They were taken aback by the sheer size and splendor of the dining room. Marble columns supported second and third level balconies on either side, each of which accommodated almost as many tables as the main floor. A deep crimson and blue carpet of oriental style covered the whole, wall to wall, and every chair was upholstered in pale blue damask. Snow white table linen drew one’s eye to the Mystral’s distinctive blue and gold charger plates, set among more polished glass and silverware than the average person could possibly use in a single meal. Sparkling crystal hung like diamonds from recessed tray ceilings, creating a soft glow over each separate dining area.
Julie looked up in awe at a massive chandelier that was suspended high in the center of the room. Ahead of them and directly beneath it was a circular table for twelve. Three ship’s officers in their white uniforms - two men and a woman - stood behind their chairs on the far side, smiling and awaiting their guests. Julie recognized Captain Collier as the tall one in the middle. He was tanned and fit, with dark hair going gray at the temples and a trim mustache and beard.
He wears the commander’s mantle well.
Although she hadn’t met Andrew Collier, she knew quite a bit about him, having looked him up while in the ship’s Internet Café. The article said he was “fifty-five, a superb raconteur, having travelled all over the world, and one of the most personable cruise ship captains plying the seas for HCL.”
That was nice, but recent news of a smaller ship running aground and tipping over in the Mediterranean was fresh in Julie’s mind. She was relieved to note that Captain Collier also had “extensive maritime training and many years of experience”…especially since he was in charge of this floating city she was presently visiting instead of Paris.
“I couldn’t be better, Captain Collier. Thank you for inviting us.”
He immediately turned to Joe and shook his hand as well. “Mr. Garrett, I believe? Welcome aboard. Are you enjoying your cruise?”
“You bet I am!” Joe said, a little loud. “This is some ship. How many tons is she?”
“One hundred-sixty-thousand, Joe, and she’s longer than the Eiffel Tower.”
“Wow!”
“Indeed,” the Captain said, smiling. He turned toward the Byrnes and their friends. “Hello, Gill, Cathy. Good evening, Adrienne, Dale. It’s nice to see you again. Please, have a seat, all of you. Make yourselves comfortable while I welcome our other guests.” With that, he quickly moved around the table to greet an older couple on the other side.
Place cards were set all around and they took their seats. Joe and Julie, then Cathy and Gill were to the Captain’s right after a ship’s officer. To his left, after the female officer, the Captain had placed the older couple and beyond them Adrienne and Dale. Directly across from the Captain sat Jonathan Reece, the writer from Conde Nast Traveler magazine. He was young, black and British. Julie smiled, acknowledging him, and he sketched a little wave at her and Joe.
Waiters with short, pale blue jackets began to pour either a fine Cabernet or Chardonnay for each diner. So unobtrusive was the service that dinner rolls, hot from the oven, and artfully done appetizers seemed to appear like magic: bacon-wrapped scallops with thin sliced salmon and caviar, bruschetta with feta cheese and fresh basil, colorful crudité with dip.
Cathy whispered, “Those folks are celebrating a special occasion,” nodding toward the older couple chatting with the Captain and the female officer. “They were chosen at random. He seats them close. I think he wants to make sure they’re included in the conversation. Such a wonderful host.”
So I’ve read, Julie thought.
Apparently Adrienne and her strapping, sandy-haired companion knew the seating drill, too. They had immediately found their seats. Now, leaning across the table, she said, “Julie, Joe, I’d like you to meet my husband, Dale.”
“Dale Simpson,” Joe said, wide-eyed. “Of the Tampa Bay Rays!”
“Hi, nice to meet you. Yeah, that’s me. I retired a while ago, though. I work with Adrienne at the agency.”
“Nice to meet you,” Julie said, thinking, how long ago could it have been? He doesn’t look more than thirty. Certainly younger than her. You’d think she would have used his last name. She diminished him and his baseball career. He’s Mr. Paradis now.
“Hey, great to meet you, man,” Joe said. “I’m a Floridian, born and bred. The Rays are my team! I was so damn excited when ya’ll won the pennant in 2008. Think they’re going to do it this year?”
Ya’ll? What alter-ego was Joe slipping into? He sounded like an awestruck southern college kid who’d never been out of Florida. And then it dawned on Julie that the last time Joe had a drink, that’s who he was.
Joe and Dale did their baseball-bonding for a few minutes until Captain Collier tapped his glass.
“Well, good evening everyone and welcome. I’m so glad to have all of you as my guests tonight. May I introduce our officers? I’m sure most of you know Dr. Michelle Sinclair, our Principal Medical Officer.”
The tall woman in the white dress uniform seated to his left smiled and said, “Good evening,” to everyone around the table. She was naturally beautiful, with a light olive complexion and the kind of teeth movie stars pay for.
Forty, perhaps, thought Julie, noticing a few strands of silver in her hair and some laugh-lines about her hazel eyes.
The Captain continued his introductions. “And on my right, this is our Ship’s Hotel Manager, Bob Sanchez. He’s the fellow behind the scenes who takes care of the cabins, the public rooms and our dining room service, too. That’s a big job and no one could do it better.”
The somewhat portly officer had a ring of brown hair and a bald pate. He smiled and said, “Welcome aboard, everyone. If you ever need any assistance, please give me a call.”
He blushed. Shy? Not likely, Julie thought. This guy might look like Friar Tuck in a white uniform, but he’s the boss in his domain. The flush is more likely due to his weight.
“Next to Dr. Sinclair, may I present Phil and Alice Kent, who are celebrating their fiftieth anniversary,” the Captain said, leading a round of applause.
“A toast,” he said, raising his glass, everyone following suit. “To Alice and Phil, may tonight be full of happiness and laughter, and all your tomorrows happy ever after.”
The Kents smiled and thanked everyone.
Julie was smiling and thinking, nice couple, Northerners, when Captain Collier suddenly turned the spotlight on her. “I’m sure you know our body language expert, Julie O’Hara, and the gentleman at her side is Joe Garrett. Did any of you attend Ms. O’Hara’s fascinating seminar?”
Cathy and Adrienne both said they did, and how much they’d enjoyed it. Then Alice Kent chimed in.
“Oh, Ms. O’Hara, I’m such a fan! I saw you on The View. Phil and I loved your seminar and we bought Clues, but we forgot to get you to sign it.” With that, she pulled the book out of her purse. “I hope you don’t mind; I brought it with me.” She looked across the broad table laden with food and china and, embarrassed, quickly tucked the book back in her bag. “Perhaps after dinner?”
“Of course,” Julie said, thinking, I love this woman. “Did you bring a pen?”
“Oh, yes,” she said, extracting the pen and waving it.
Adrienne laughed and said, “I wish I’d brought my copy!”
“Me, too,” Cathy said. “We’ll have to catch you tomorrow, Julie.”
“Ms. O’Hara has an open interview later this week,” the Captain said. “But I’ll let Mr. Reece, from Conde Nast Traveler magazine tell you more about that,” and he turned the conversation over to him.
“Uh, hello, everyone. I’m Jon. Like the Captain said, I’m a writer from Conde Nast. I’m here doing a story on cruising, and I’ll be interviewing some of the officers and entertainers. Julie’s interview is Thursday and we’re looking for some audience feedback, so it’s going to be in the Odyssey Lounge again. Speaking of that, I’d like to do some passenger interviews, too.” Looking at the Kents, he asked, “Would you folks be interested in doing a quick interview after dinner?”
“Oh, we’d love to!” they said in unison.
Look at those expressions, Julie thought with delight. Their lips are curled all the way up on the sides and they’re all teeth. So happy, so genuine. They can’t believe their good luck.
“Excellent,” the Captain said. “I think that’s a fine idea. And now, may I introduce my good friends, Gill and Cathy Byrne, who are members of HCL’s Captain’s Club and are enjoying their fifteenth Holiday cruise.
“And last, but certainly not least, I’d like to introduce our good friend, Adrienne Paradis, travel agent extraordinaire, and her husband, Dale Simpson.”
“Our” friend, Julie thought, not “my good friend”, not even “my friend.”
Julie’s eyes slid over to Michelle Sinclair, sitting on the Captain’s left. The doctor was still smiling, but there were subtle changes in her expression. The laugh lines about her eyes that Julie had observed earlier had flattened out. Her beautiful white teeth, upper and lower, were still in view, but her lips, instead of curling up on the outside, were drawn back in an oblong shape.
There’s no depth to that smile; she’s faking it.
The Captain continued his homage to the travel agent. “Adrienne’s prestigious agency, Paradis Travel, is responsible for booking at least four hundred guests on this cruise alone. And we thank you, Madam,” he said, raising his glass to her.
“No need to thank me, Captain,” Adrienne said, rising. “I enjoy matching people with their perfect vacation, whether it’s watching baby sea turtles
hatch at night on the Galapagos Islands, or sailing in luxury on a beautiful ship like the Mystral.”
Nice pitch. No shrinking violet, our petite friend…
Adrienne raised her glass and said, “Here’s to perfect vacations!’
The Captain’s table echoed her toast, “To perfect vacations!”
* * * * *
CHAPTER 7
Except for the ship’s officers and the Kents - who had left with Jon Reece to do their interview - the Captain’s dinner guests had gone on to the popular Top Hat nightclub on Deck 12, also in the rear of the ship. The dark floor-to-ceiling windows didn’t offer much of an ocean view, as the moon was largely obscured by clouds. Still, the band was good and the place was jumping.
As the evening wore on, the musicians had steadily dialed-down the decibels and tempo until the room was half full. A quarter of those folks were slowly swaying on the dance floor. It was one o’clock and the Captain’s guests were resting. Gill was drinking scotch and scowling. Joe, his polar opposite, actually got up to sing with the band and then laughed along with everyone else when they took the microphone away from him. Dale and Cathy were passing the time with banal conversation about their dinner.
“There’s no way regular guests get a lobster that size,” Dale said.
“And it was sweet,” Cathy added. “I’m sure it was from New England.”
How could you tell? Julie thought. You just moved it around your plate, along with the rest of your food. You’re too thin. You’ve had your eyelids done and your upper lip. Are you afraid of age, afraid of losing Gill, or both?
Julie sighed. Cathy’s insecurity was screaming at her.
Julie was so tired. Earlier, at the seminar, she had answered Cathy Byrne honestly. She couldn’t “turn it off”, couldn’t stop reading people. And watching this particular group interact with each other was exhausting.
Worse, Joe had been dancing with Adrienne half the night, until she finally got the message that Julie was pissed and left.
“Joe, let’s go. It’s late.”