Like Celia, Yvonne went to the early yoga class. Nothing was more important than maintaining her trim figure and youthful appearance.
Roger had been asleep when she left but was gone when she returned to the suite. Probably chasing after Lady Em and hanging on her every word, Yvonne thought disdainfully.
She showered, ordered a light breakfast, slipped on a sweater and slacks and went to the spa. In advance, she had made appointments for several different types of massages and customized facials. These would be followed by late afternoon makeup sessions.
She was already becoming accustomed to the amenities on the ship. But even so, she was happily surprised by the beautiful appointment rooms and the treatment at the hands of the highly skilled estheticians. It was approaching lunchtime when she settled in a deck chair and was immediately tapped on the shoulder.
“I’m Anna DeMille,” the woman to her left said to introduce herself. “But unfortunately no relation to Cecil B. DeMille. You remember him, of course, and the great story about him? He was directing a battle scene with hundreds of actors and was delighted with the way the scene went. Then he asked the cameraman, ‘Did you get all that?’ And the cameraman answered, ‘Ready when you are, CB.’ ” Anna laughed heartily. “Isn’t that a great story about my non-relative?”
Dear God, Yvonne thought, how did I get stuck with this one?
She forced herself to engage in a brief conversation, then stood up. “Nice chatting with you,” she lied.
Seeing her leave, Anna turned to the woman to her right, who looked to be in her early sixties and had just closed her book.
“I’m Anna DeMille,” she said. “This trip is so exciting. I would never be here except that I won the grand prize at my church’s annual raffle. Imagine, an all-expenses-paid trip on the maiden voyage of the Queen Charlotte! I still can’t believe it!”
“Very understandable.”
Anna ignored the chilly tone in the woman’s voice.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“Robyn Reeves,” was the crisp reply, as the woman opened the book she had just closed.
Nobody is very talkative this morning, Anna thought. I’ll take a walk and see if Devon is anywhere around. Poor man.
He must feel so alone being here by himself with his wife’s ashes.