by E. A. House
“Did you know,” Chris asked from his nest of blankets, “that some Catholic churches in Minnesota and surrounding states have muskrat dinners during Lent?”
“Right,” Carrie said, “I did not want to know—Redd, aren’t you used to people talking about you? You have your own television show.”
“I don’t use my given name for the show,” Redd explained. “It’s too embarrassing, and I like being anonymous.”
Nobody pointed out that someone who naturally dressed and acted like his television persona was hardly being anonymous, but Redd said, “I have a double life,” defensively anyway.
“I only ever feel my ears burn when someone is talking about me using my given name,” Redd explained, giving the hot chocolate a final whisk and tipping the contents into cups. “It’s much more serious an occasion, there are only ten or twelve people who know—anyone else want some of this?” he offered. There was not a sudden rush.
“Oh, here,” Bethy sighed when he started to looked dejected, handing the first two cups to Chris and Carrie and cautiously taking a third when Redd offered it to her. “You were saying?” The hot chocolate was definitely hot, and also definitely had some chocolate in it, so technically it fit the definition. Even if it did taste strangely like strawberries.
“Only ten or twelve people know that I was born Robin Wyzowski,” Redd finished. Carrie swallowed her mouthful of hot chocolate too fast and started coughing. “And now almost twenty of them do,” Redd added thoughtfully, sipping his own hot chocolate. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing. Nobody takes me seriously when my name is Wyzowski, it’s probably why nobody believed me when I tried to help give Kevin an alibi during that business with Ryan.”
“I’ll take you seriously,” Carrie offered, still coughing. Somehow the name fit him.
“Thank you,” Redd said, and then took a deep gulp of his drink and made a strangled urk noise.
“Redd!” Bethy gasped. He was making the most amazing faces.
“I think that all the nuts from the chocolate bars settled at the bottom,” Redd said faintly once he’d taken several deep breaths and blown his nose.
“Why me?” Bethy muttered, burying her head in her hands.
“Otherwise, this worked really well,” Redd added, studying his cup. “I’ll have to make this kind of hot chocolate again some time.” This time it was Flo who made a horrified noise.
“Don’t,” Bethy said, not looking up. “Flo might actually throw you overboard and we’ve had enough people go overboard tonight.”
“Yes, that would put a damper on the evening.”
“I’m damp,” Chris said glumly. “And still a little confused.”
“I just can’t believe you actually took that inflatable manatee on the boat,” Bethy mumbled, “and that it actually made the boat look frightening from an angle, and that anyone would think this ship was haunted. This ship would be an insult to all haunted ships!”
Carrie blushed and took a sip of her hot chocolate to cover it up. The manatee had looked just enough like a person floating in mid-air to scare her. Up close, the only thing scary about it was the painted doe-eyes.
“You keep telling me the San Telmo isn’t a haunted ship,” Bethy added. “But ever since you mentioned the name we’ve been followed by strange events—which I guess would make it more of a cursed ship than a haunted ship.”
“Oh, that’s the great trick of the San Telmo,” Redd explained. “It’s not a haunted ship, but it’s the sort of ship that haunts your whole life if you aren’t careful.”