Say No Moor

by Maddy Hunter

  “I honestly don’t think you need to take any extra precautions today, Mom. We’re on a roll.” I swept my hand skyward. “Glorious weather. Calm seas. Trust me, there’s no way we’re going to sink.” Given my rather lengthy track record of being wrong about almost everything, I hated to speak in absolutes, but this time I knew I was right.

  I hoped.

  I checked my watch. “They should be serving lunch pretty soon, Mom. You wanna head down to the galley and find a seat before it gets too crowded?”

  She trailed her fingers over the life preserver slowly, affectionately, as if it were a tiny ball of fur named Cottontail. “Will you promise that if something happens to me, you’ll stop by the house to visit your father at least twice a week so he can practice talking to another human being? I’m afraid he might forget how otherwise. And watch your grandmother’s diet. She has a nasty habit of bingeing on maraschino cherries.”

  “Mom, you’re on vacation. This is supposed to be fun. So stop with the Grim Reaper references, will you? You’re not facing imminent death.”

  “Of course I’m not.” She flashed a perky smile. “Really, Emily, I can hardly contain myself. I’m absolutely having the time of my life. I don’t think I’ve had this much fun since I color coded your father’s sock drawer.”

  Which must have been a real knee-slapper considering the only socks Dad owned were black.

  Leaving Mom to stand guard over the ship’s most accessible life-saving apparatus, I went in search of Etienne to enlist his assistance in helping me round up the group for lunch. The advertised meal consisted of turkey wraps, chips, and fresh fruit, but for an additional twenty bucks we could order a platter of Alaskan king crab legs, complete with stainless-steel lobster cracker, moist towelettes, and bandages.

  Unfortunately, my guys are spectacularly bad when it comes to wrestling with seafood that looks like the creature from the Predator movie. Removing husks from ears of sweet corn? Yes. Dissecting the legs of spiny crustaceans? Not so much.

  Fear of shellfish is another consequence of being landlocked.

  Not seeing Etienne at the port rail among the impenetrable wall of whale watchers, I poked my head inside the nearby observation cabin, with its indoor seating and huge viewing windows, to find the room deserted. That left only the main deck galley and bow to search.

  Circling around the rows of passenger chairs that were bolted down mid-deck, I noticed Thor Thorsen’s wife, Florence, sitting by herself, bundled up in a hoodie and tinkering with her cell phone. As physically unremarkable as Thor was impressive, she reminded me of everyone’s favorite pair of slippers: plain, devoid of decoration, and a bit frayed around the edges, but blessed with the ability to soothe the sorest of feet. She was schlepping a jumble of camera lens cases that were skewed across the width of her chest, but she was so entangled in straps and nylon webbing that I hoped she didn’t get snagged on some out-of-the-way hook and accidentally strangle herself.

  She waved when she saw me. “Are you looking for Etienne?”

  “Have you seen him?”

  “You bet. Goldie was starting to feel a little queasy, so he and Margi escorted her down to the galley a few minutes ago. This is her first time on the ocean, and if she felt as bad as she looked, I bet it’ll be her last. I would’ve taken her myself, but I didn’t want to leave Thor high and dry without his equipment.”

  Florence was always looking to help someone. She’d received numerous citations from practically every organization in Windsor City for her leadership and outstanding community service, and had founded her own chapter of the Daughters of Norway, which many of my regulars belonged to. Word around town was that Thor often took advantage of her generous spirit, but if today was any example, she seemed perfectly content sitting by herself, lugging all his photographic equipment, while he enjoyed the sights.

  I eyed the straps and cases hugging her body. “Is that stuff heavy?”

  “Heavy, no. Cumbersome, yes.”

  I was tempted to ask why big, broad-shouldered Thor couldn’t carry his own camera equipment, but I figured that was none of my business. “Have you seen the whales yet?”

  She shook her head. “Doesn’t look like anyone at the rail is too keen on giving up their spot, so I’ll wait and see Thor’s photos when we get back home. It’ll be just like being there.”

  Yeah, why go through the hassle of paying a lot of money to see something firsthand when you could wait until it was over and see it vicariously from the comfort of your own sofa?

  She waved her cell phone at me, her face a question mark. “I know the boat is equipped with satellite internet, but do you think it’s working? I mean, I sent a couple of text messages to Lorraine Iversen back home and I thought they went through, but I haven’t heard back from her yet, which is really unusual because she’s as compulsive as I am about answering texts immediately.”

  “She’s probably juggling a million medical issues at the moment, so I wouldn’t worry too much. She got a lot dumped on her plate in the last few days.” Lorraine’s mother had broken her hip the day before our flight, so she’d had to cancel her reservation, leaving her husband, Ennis, to make the trip without her. “Give her time. Hospitals aren’t known for having the best cell service. Too much concrete and steel.”

  “You’re probably right. But still.” She frowned at her phone. “It’s just so unlike her. I mean, she’s my best friend. I’d like to know what’s happening so I can give her a little emotional support.”

  “Talk to Ennis. He might have an update that’ll help ease your mind.”

  She nodded. “Sure. I…I just can’t shake the feeling that something terrible—” Leaving the thought unfinished, she turned her cell phone off and stuffed it into the pocket of her hoodie. “Shutting the thing off might help, right? Sometimes I think it’d be better for everyone’s peace of mind if the cell phone went the way of the dinosaur.”

  Closing her eyes, she inhaled a deep breath, then let it out slowly, as if she were in the cool-down stage of an exercise program. “There.” She opened her eyes and forced a smile. “I feel better already.”

  But she didn’t look better.

  She looked as if she were carrying the weight of the world on her narrow shoulders…and the strain was about to crush her.