Refreshed by a dreamless sleep, I was in a holiday mood Sunday morning. I moved through the breakfast buffet, looking forward to the morning of sightseeing in Copenhagen before the Clio sailed at one. I’d opted for the informal breakfast area on Deck 9, carrying my choices from the buffet out to a table at the bow. Seagulls circled. Pleasure craft idled near. Weekend sailors waved as they passed. I’d noted Jimmy and Sophia seated at an interior table and carefully avoided passing them. My quick glimpse had been troubling. Sophia’s head was bent. She jabbed at a waffle as if poking hay with a pitchfork. Jimmy’s face was creased in a tight frown. He looked frustrated. Hurt. Stymied.
I found a table outside on the open deck. I had a quick sharp memory of the night before. Kent’s voice had been freighted with hatred of Sophia. Rosie had clearly been angry on Kent’s behalf. Now Jimmy and Sophia appeared at odds.
Laughter sounded from a nearby table. An attentive steward smiled as he poured coffee. My spirits lifted. I wasn’t going to let the shadow of my purpose on the ship dampen this lovely morning. I had a few hours yet before I would meet Sophia and her entourage. Until then I intended to enjoy the harbor, my breakfast, and the morning excursion.
I love a Scandinavian breakfast and had chosen my favorites from the buffet: smoked salmon, liverwurst, assorted cheeses, and fruit. When I finished, I lingered, drinking coffee. There was no hurry. The first buses would not depart for another hour.
“Madam, I have a message for you.” A waiter held out a folded sheet of paper to me.
I thanked him. As I unfolded the sheet, torn from a small pocket notebook, I recognized Jimmy’s bold handwriting. Obviously he’d seen me as well. The message was brief: Your cabin. Three o’clock.
“Outside, please.” I pointed toward the balcony.
The steward placed the tea service on the plastic-topped table. He lifted the silver lid to display the dainty sandwiches—salmon, egg salad, butter—and scones. There was a plate of petits fours for dessert. I had chosen Darjeeling for Jimmy, green tea for me. When Jimmy and I had traveled together, afternoon tea was a highlight of the day. One of the highlights.
When the steward left, I waited on the balcony, the sliding door open, my ears attuned for Jimmy’s knock. I heard a familiar rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat, a knock I would recognize anywhere, three rapid taps, a pause, three rapid taps. I pulled open the door.
He gave a nervous, searching glance down the hallway before stepping inside. He was Jimmy, quick-moving, intense, vigorous, yet different from the man I thought I knew well. As the door shut, he looked down at me, his face unsmiling. His words were hurried. “I only have a few minutes. I told Sophia I was going up to the promenade. Look”—he pulled a small notebook from his pocket, tore out a sheet, wrote quickly—“here’s where everybody is. We’re on this deck at the stern, port side. Sophia and I have an end suite, 6088. Evelyn’s in 6086, Alex and Madge in 6084, Kent in 6082, Rosie in 6080, Val in 6078.”
I doubted I would visit any of them in their cabins, but I took the sheet as he held it out.
“Let’s connect after the Captain’s Reception. It starts at six-thirty, then we plan to go down to Diogenes Bar for a drink before dinner. Why don’t you stroll into the bar about seven-thirty?”
I looked at him soberly. “Sophia looked furious this morning.”
“Yeah.” Jimmy’s assent was brusque. “At me. At the Riordans. At the universe for not running on Sophia time.”
I raised an eyebrow.
Suddenly his wry grin was there, the sardonic, unflappable Jimmy I knew. “Maybe it’s reality time for me. Sophia’s—” He looked suddenly uncomfortable, a man not eager to explain a new love to an old. He was also a man who had spent his life scraping through dissemblance to the base vein of truth. He and I had been too close to lie to each other. He shrugged. “Sophia’s what you see, vibrant, arresting, unpredictable, fascinating. And”—his eyes were suddenly sad—“incapable of seeing anyone else’s viewpoint. She thinks I’m trying to tell her what to do.” He tilted his head, looked faintly surprised. “You know, I guess she’s right.” His tone was thoughtful. “I’m telling her to ease off, kiss the money goodbye, give these people their lives. I told her the money belongs to the Riordans, let them have it. She told me in a voice like ice granules that the money belonged to Frank. I told her Frank was dead. She told me I obviously had no sense of honor. On that happy note, I told her I was going to take a walk and slammed out of the cabin. If we were back in California, I’d walk right out of her life.” His voice was hard, his eyes hurt. “But she’s my wife. I have to protect her.” He stared down at me. Without warning he pulled me close, held me in a fierce embrace. “I don’t deserve your help in taking care of her. Sophia for sure doesn’t.”
I felt the warmth of his touch even after the door closed and he was gone.
I walked numbly out to the balcony. The silver tea service glistened in the sun. I sat down. Tea for one, not for two.
I studied my reflection in the broad full-length mirror on the forward wall of my cabin. The sleek silver crepe dress was simply cut, a bateau neckline and Empire waist, and a stylish flared three-tier skirt. A garnet necklace and matching earrings added color. I smoothed back a curl of my silvered dark hair, which I’d pulled back into a French twist.
My expression was a trifle rueful. I wanted to look my best, not perhaps for the most admirable of motives. I was going to see Jimmy and Sophia. I had no intention of appearing old and frumpy in comparison to her. I grinned at the mirror. All right. Reality was reality. Possibly old, but never frumpy. I’d earned every wrinkle on my face and saw them as indicators of a long life fully lived, not always as well as I would have wished, but as well as I had been able to manage. One of the nuggets of age is the realization that, save for the purposefully evil, everyone does the best they can, a conclusion both mitigating and chilling.
I tightened an earring and picked up my silver evening bag. As my cabin door closed behind me, I paused for a moment. Oh yes, the stairways and lifts were to my right. The carpeted corridor was well lit but had the cavernous aspect peculiar to a passageway on a ship. I was getting accustomed to the gentle rock beneath my feet. Other passengers, too, wobbling a bit as they got their sea legs, were on their way to the reception or dinner or drinks. I didn’t hurry. It was a few minutes before seven. I would attend the captain’s party for a few minutes, then go to the bar as planned.
The party was on the pool deck. The dark-haired captain was impressive in his white uniform. He and others of his staff mingled with the guests, women in pastel dresses, some chiffon, some silk, the men in dark suits and some in black tie. He smiled when we shook hands, and I introduced myself.
“Mrs. Collins.” An engaging smile softened his formal appearance. He had an angular face with piercing blue eyes and a blunt chin. “Welcome to the Clio. I’m Captain Wilson. I hope you enjoy our cruise.”
“I’ve enjoyed everything so far.” Everything but my silent observation of Kent Riordan and his sister in Tivoli. “The tour this morning was excellent.”
“What did you find most interesting?” He looked at me intently, as if he truly was interested in my reply.
My answer was immediate. “The queen’s birthday tapestries.” The magnificent modern-day tapestries depicting a thousand years of Danish history from the Vikings to modern times were created to celebrate the queen’s fiftieth birthday in 1990. The seventeen Gobelins hang in the Royal Reception Chambers of Christiansborg Palace. The brilliant colors were a reminder that old tapestries bedecking museums and castles once were fresh and spectacular in their beauty. “I was especially taken by the Gobelins of the present and the future.”
His smile was sudden and genuine. He looked like a small boy with a fistful of agates. “My wife is Danish and we spend our shore leave there. They say The Little Mermaid is Copenhagen’s greatest treasure. She is very fine, but the queen’s tapestries can’t be matched anywhere.” He gave my hand a firm squeeze, then turned to the man behind me.
I stood near the port rail sipping fruit punch and observing the passengers, some stylish, some dowdy, but all affluent and for this moment secure and happy in a very insecure world.
It was easy to find Sophia Montgomery. She was vivid in a lobster pink sleeveless silk dress with a drape neck. Her smile flashed. Her light laughter invited everyone to laugh with her. She was the center of an admiring throng. She exuded star quality. A distinguished-looking man in a boxy jacket and kilt beamed down at her. Jimmy was smiling too and looked like the Jimmy I knew, affable, interested, kindly.
My gaze slipped past them, rested on Alex and Madge Riordan. The contrast could not have been greater: Sophia’s effervescence, Madge’s pinched face and thin lips.
Careful to keep my head averted from Jimmy, I drifted close to Alex and Madge. “…the most beautiful necklace I ever saw. You’re disgusting not to get it for me. You know my card’s full.”
Alex shot a hunted glance toward Sophia. “Don’t make a scene, Madge.”
His wife tossed her head, slapped her hands to her hips. “I like to make scenes. Maybe I’ll go up to Sophia and tell her she’s turned you into a miser. I can tell everyone here”—she flung out a thin hand with bright red nails—“that you’re under her thumb and she’s a bitch. How would she like that?”
His hand shot out, gripped her arm. “Shut up. Don’t alienate her. She’ll cut us off.”
Madge yanked her arm free, rubbed the splotches on her skin. “Look what you’ve done.” There was surprise as well as anger in her voice. She stared at him, blue eyes wide. “Don’t ever touch me like that again. If I’d known when I married you—” She broke off.
Alex’s thin face sharpened. “Known what? That the money was in trust?” His eyes were dark with pain. “You thought I was rich. Is that why you married me?”
Before Madge could respond, Evelyn thrust herself between them, burbling, her high-pitched voice determined. “Wasn’t it fun today? I’ve never seen so many shops. Didn’t you love Caritas Fountain? All those vendors! Did you know that’s where the old central market was? Just think, three hundred years later people are still making and selling things in little open-air stalls. Of course, most of the goods now come from factories, but still, it’s such fun wandering around and finding the most interesting…” She gripped each by an elbow, maneuvered them toward the doorway.
I heard Rosie’s light musical voice behind me. “Bless Evelyn. She’s still galloping to the rescue. Kittens from treetops when we were kids. Poor Alex from his bitch of a wife now.”
I half turned, saw Rosie and Val.
Rosie was breathtakingly lovely. Champagne embroidery swirled in a diagonal swath down her black crepe dress. Titian curls were piled high atop her head, emphasizing her fine bone structure and graceful neck. Chunky faux pearls alternated with gleaming topaz in her earrings, necklace, and bracelet.
Val’s unrelievedly black dress was beautifully cut, sleeveless with a surplice vent. She was, in her own remote, distant manner, as lovely as her sister. But it chilled me to see that her jewelry, a double strand of jet beads, was black as well, the black of an abandoned well or lonely country lane at midnight.
Val’s expression was faintly sad. “Poor Evelyn. She tries to patch up our lives, but even she can’t save us from the ogress.”
“Speaking of…” Rosie’s Titian curls nodded. “We’re being summoned.”
Sophia held up her hand in a graceful gesture, the queen gathering her retinue.
I moved behind a clutch of passengers, stepped to the starboard rail. I rested my elbows and looked down at the water and the wake of the ship. I would have enjoyed staying where I was, watching the sun sink in the west and splashing the sea with gold and orange. That luxury, that freedom were not to be mine.
I swung about, moving in the preordained pattern Jimmy had devised. In a few minutes I would walk into Diogenes Bar. Would my appearance there spell a difference in the lives of those I had been watching? Or—and I felt a sudden misgiving—in my life?
I took one step, then another. It was too late to question my course.