can’t sleep in the public areas.”
“Are there any extra beds in the crew quarters?” I asked, as if the possibility just occurred to me.
“The crew quarters? That’s not allowed. What are you going to do?”
I took another sip and gave her a little more hang time. Whatever solution we came up with had to come from her. And I knew, or at least strongly believed, it would. She was that kind of caring, involved person. And a problem solver.
“Why in heaven did Mr. Monk change his mind?”
“He had a fight with his girlfriend and she left without him.” All true.
“That’s too bad. You hate to see that happen. I suppose . . .” Okay, here it came. “Giselle, the ship’s accordion player . . .”
Okay, this was unexpected. “What accordion player?” You’d think I would have noticed an accordion player.
“She was let go after the Alaska cruise. She used to wander through the tables in the dining room and play requests. Really sweet girl. Wonderful musician. I say ‘girl,’ but she must have been in her eighties. Anyway, the company has made some cutbacks.”
Thank goodness for accordion cutbacks, for the sake of the diners and my housing situation. “So, her room is free?”
“Giselle actually bunked with me. I suppose we wouldn’t get into too much trouble if you . . .”
“I would love to bunk with you, if that’s possible.”
Hurray! This would be the best imaginable solution, I thought. I’d have a place to sleep, I’d be able to keep a better eye on Mariah, and we could become closer. I might even be able to warn her about Sheffield.
“It’s not going to be as comfortable,” she said. “We’re below the waterline, so there are no windows. And the rumbling of the engines can be annoying until you get used to it.”
“Sounds perfect. I mean, except for the rumbling. I think we’ll get along great. And you’ll be helping Adrian so much.”
“It’s not the trip you signed up for,” Mariah said. “And it hardly seems fair. You’re the one who paid the single supplement.”
“I don’t mind, believe me. As long as it doesn’t get you in trouble.”
“Don’t worry about that. The captain can’t fire me.”
“He can’t?” That’s not what he’d told his wife.
“I mean he wouldn’t,” she demurred. “He’s a great guy. He’ll understand. Just the same, it’s probably a good idea not to tell him.”
Charlie the bartender was making his rounds. I waved him off, but he took Mariah’s highball glass and refreshed her club soda. “Your new usual,” he repeated. “At least it’s cheaper on the house.”
“Thanks, Charlie.”
All right. Are you ahead of me here? You could be. Because this was the exact moment when it hit me. The reason behind her new usual cocktail.
Mariah’s old usual had probably been an alcoholic drink. Let’s start with that assumption. Mariah liked to sit at bars, at least this bar, which is a no-no for recovering alcoholics, at least in the early days of recovery. So let’s assume she wasn’t a recovering alcoholic, just someone who had recently given up drinking. She was also someone who could put pressure on her captain boyfriend to leave his wife—or else.
Somehow I just knew. Mariah Linkletter was pregnant, which was bad news for the captain. And probably for Mariah’s life expectancy. Suddenly I had a renewed urge to stick by her side all evening.
“Can I eat at your table tonight?” I asked, my voice rising just a tad. “It’ll be fun. We’ll get my things and move them into your cabin, then we’ll have dinner and maybe do something afterward.” I knew I was sounding desperate right now in a
Single White Female
, stalker-girlfriend kind of way.
“Sure,” said Mariah with a little hesitation. “Sounds great.” The pocket in her skirt buzzed. “Sorry.” She pulled out a phone and spent a few seconds checking a text. I couldn’t tell if she wanted to smile or not. She did neither.
“Let’s get
“Are there any extra beds in the crew quarters?” I asked, as if the possibility just occurred to me.
“The crew quarters? That’s not allowed. What are you going to do?”
I took another sip and gave her a little more hang time. Whatever solution we came up with had to come from her. And I knew, or at least strongly believed, it would. She was that kind of caring, involved person. And a problem solver.
“Why in heaven did Mr. Monk change his mind?”
“He had a fight with his girlfriend and she left without him.” All true.
“That’s too bad. You hate to see that happen. I suppose . . .” Okay, here it came. “Giselle, the ship’s accordion player . . .”
Okay, this was unexpected. “What accordion player?” You’d think I would have noticed an accordion player.
“She was let go after the Alaska cruise. She used to wander through the tables in the dining room and play requests. Really sweet girl. Wonderful musician. I say ‘girl,’ but she must have been in her eighties. Anyway, the company has made some cutbacks.”
Thank goodness for accordion cutbacks, for the sake of the diners and my housing situation. “So, her room is free?”
“Giselle actually bunked with me. I suppose we wouldn’t get into too much trouble if you . . .”
“I would love to bunk with you, if that’s possible.”
Hurray! This would be the best imaginable solution, I thought. I’d have a place to sleep, I’d be able to keep a better eye on Mariah, and we could become closer. I might even be able to warn her about Sheffield.
“It’s not going to be as comfortable,” she said. “We’re below the waterline, so there are no windows. And the rumbling of the engines can be annoying until you get used to it.”
“Sounds perfect. I mean, except for the rumbling. I think we’ll get along great. And you’ll be helping Adrian so much.”
“It’s not the trip you signed up for,” Mariah said. “And it hardly seems fair. You’re the one who paid the single supplement.”
“I don’t mind, believe me. As long as it doesn’t get you in trouble.”
“Don’t worry about that. The captain can’t fire me.”
“He can’t?” That’s not what he’d told his wife.
“I mean he wouldn’t,” she demurred. “He’s a great guy. He’ll understand. Just the same, it’s probably a good idea not to tell him.”
Charlie the bartender was making his rounds. I waved him off, but he took Mariah’s highball glass and refreshed her club soda. “Your new usual,” he repeated. “At least it’s cheaper on the house.”
“Thanks, Charlie.”
All right. Are you ahead of me here? You could be. Because this was the exact moment when it hit me. The reason behind her new usual cocktail.
Mariah’s old usual had probably been an alcoholic drink. Let’s start with that assumption. Mariah liked to sit at bars, at least this bar, which is a no-no for recovering alcoholics, at least in the early days of recovery. So let’s assume she wasn’t a recovering alcoholic, just someone who had recently given up drinking. She was also someone who could put pressure on her captain boyfriend to leave his wife—or else.
Somehow I just knew. Mariah Linkletter was pregnant, which was bad news for the captain. And probably for Mariah’s life expectancy. Suddenly I had a renewed urge to stick by her side all evening.
“Can I eat at your table tonight?” I asked, my voice rising just a tad. “It’ll be fun. We’ll get my things and move them into your cabin, then we’ll have dinner and maybe do something afterward.” I knew I was sounding desperate right now in a
Single White Female
, stalker-girlfriend kind of way.
“Sure,” said Mariah with a little hesitation. “Sounds great.” The pocket in her skirt buzzed. “Sorry.” She pulled out a phone and spent a few seconds checking a text. I couldn’t tell if she wanted to smile or not. She did neither.
“Let’s get
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