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Michaela examined herself in the floor-length mirror in her suite. She turned to the side and smiled in satisfaction. Her workouts in the pool and at gym had paid off. She looked great. She wore a dark green formal satin gown that made her green eyes sparkle brighter than usual. Her dark hair gleamed in the low light and her short curls were shiny. I look pretty good for a middle aged gal, she thought to herself. She moved closer to the mirror, inspected the fine lines around her nose and mouth, and decided they were “experience lines” and wouldn’t worry about them. Then she reached into her safe for Dottie’s emerald necklace. She clasped it around her neck and the beauty of the jewels stole her breath away. I hope I don’t lose this necklace or that no one knocks me out and steals it before I can return it to my safe. Dottie will never get over it if I lose this emerald necklace.
She reached for her cell, snapped a picture, and texted it to Slade. Then she picked up her glass of champagne and walked to the sofa. Angel was asleep in his orthopedic bed but opened his eyes as she sat down. She spoke softly to the dog, and he closed his eyes as she scratched his ears.
Mic hadn’t known a cruise stateroom could be so plush. She had a king-size bed, an enormous bathroom with a whirlpool tub, a large sitting area, a huge closet, an outside deck and balcony, a small kitchen, and the most romantic lighting she’d ever seen. She smiled to herself and her heart jumped a little when she thought of Slade McKane, the number one man in her life. Mic was excited about the cruise. She and Dottie had shopped for months in preparation for the long trip to Dottie’s home in Italy and the Mediterranean cruise. Her three weeks in Rome had been fantastic, as had her time in Venice and Tuscany. It was a trip of a lifetime for her and sort of a Swan Song for Dottie because at eighty-two years of age, Mic wasn’t sure she’d make it to Europe again to see her family, most of whom she didn’t like. At any rate, Michaela was now the owner of four formal evening gowns (Dottie had been appalled when she’d suggested wearing the same one twice) that she wore to dinner on the ship. Each night, they dined for several hours in the Captain’s Dining Room with the passengers du jour. It’d been fun the past several evenings, but tomorrow night she’d decided to put her foot down and tell Dottie she was eating in her room. She wanted room service and she wanted to wear her favorite sweatpants. She laughed and thought of how angry Dottie would be.
Angel startled as the stateroom phone rang. Of course, it was Dottie. “Where are you, Michaela? It’s almost eight o’clock. The captain is escorting us to dinner and we’ll knock on your door shortly. Are you ready?” she impatiently asked.
“Take it easy, old lady,” Michaela said happily. “Don’t have a conniption fit. Of course, I’m ready, but remember, the captain works for you because you pretty much own the cruise line.”
Dottie hesitated. “Well, that’s true, but still, I’m not so old that I don’t want to be wined and dined by a handsome man in a uniform — even if he does work for me. Be ready,” she growled. “It’ll be fun.”
Michaela’s phone signaled a text. She picked it up and smiled at the digital display. “Miss you. Are you sick of lobster and filet mignon yet, beautiful?”
Mic typed in, “Almost.”
“I’m just hungry for you,” Slade texted back.
Mic’s heart jumped in excitement and she sent him a sad faced emoji.
“Have a great night, gorgeous. I’ve gotta go cook my hot dog.”
“Good night, Slade. I miss you.”
Michaela’s eyes widened in delight as Slade texted her two hot dogs on coat hangers. She laughed. He was such a great guy. They’d been together for about eight months now. She was feeling that nesting instinct, which frightened her because she’d never wanted to settle down. She imagined Detective Slade McKane in her mind. Tall, dark, Irish, and handsome. Her heart hammered as she thought about him. Her daydream ended when Dottie rapped sharply on her door.
Michaela slid into her heels, opened her stateroom door, and smiled into the eyes of the ship’s captain. Captain Frederick Wodensen was devastatingly handsome in his full dress uniform. Dottie stood next to him and was dressed in a lovely flowing raspberry silk dress. Her silver hair was arranged beautifully in a chignon. Gorgeous crystals hung from her ears.
Dottie kissed Michaela on both cheeks and said, “You look lovely, dear. I may leave you those emeralds when I die.”
Mic laughed and said, “You’re never going to die, Dottie. We all know that.” Her eyes admired the elderly lady. Dottie was amazing and could easily pass for fifty, not eighty-something.
Seconds later the ship’s first mate, Gustav Hensen, appeared and offered Michaela his arm. Mic accepted with a smile, called to Angel, and then she, Mr. Hensen, and Angel followed the captain and Dottie to the private dining room.
This is the life, Mic thought to herself. What could possibly go wrong on a Mediterranean cruise? She closed her eyes, excited about the remaining seven days before they departed Rome for Richmond.
Michaela was too excited about the evening to notice the angry man near the elevator watching her.