The hours on Sunday passed pleasantly. Blanche remained secluded in her cabin, refreshing body and soul. With her remaining sheets of stationery, she decided to record her short time with her father. Words spilled on page after page until she had filled front and back of each sheet. She wrote in the margin to finish the last sentence. Thoughts crowded to the front of her mind, wanting to find their way on paper. If there was time on Monday, she would buy more, or perhaps even a journal. She could think of so many things she wanted to say, things about her mother, even new things she had learned about herself.
Tears stained and blurred portions of almost every page, but by the end, her tears had dried.
The more she wrote, the more she realized how little she knew about her father. Despite her immersion in life aboard the Cordelia for the past two weeks, she remained so ignorant. She’d have to depend on Ike. Her father’s insistence on his continued employment made total sense.
Blanche awoke on Monday morning refreshed, ready to make some preliminary decisions about her future. Her black suit needed laundering, so she set it aside for Dame Agatha. Instead, she reached for the deep purple dress her father had adored.
Effie turned over in her berth with a groan. “Would you like me to bring something back for you?” Blanche asked.
Effie flopped onto her back and yawned. “Maybe some toast and tea. I’m not all that hungry.”
“I’ll bring some.” With honey and butter and jam and maybe some bananas and orange juice—anything to tempt Effie’s taste buds. “I plan to meet with Ike about the business later this morning. I’d appreciate it if you could be there.”
Effie’s eyelids fluttered as if she were trying to see something through the curtain of her blindness. “I know very little about the business side of things. I wouldn’t be any help.”
Effie might not know dollars and cents, but she had her fingers on the pulse of the ship and crew. She would ask her opinion at a later time.
After a brief spell in front of the mirror, arranging her hair in a loose knot on top of her head, Blanche inched the door open. Smithers stood outside, his hand raised, ready to knock. “So you are joining us for breakfast.” He sounded pleased.
“Yes.”
“I will let Elaine know.” He bowed and headed for the staircase.
Blanche followed. The floor undulated with minute dimensions, suggesting a wind was rustling the river beneath them. The first breakfast bell sounded, so she had time before beginning the day. She headed to the main deck. Wind whipped around the floorboards, whistling past the empty spaces where cargo had waited on the trip downriver. Voices called from the wharf, and she glanced at stevedores toting pallets to the ship. Somehow, business was continuing as usual.
The wind teased her hair out of the loose knot, but she was glad for the cooling breeze, not going downstairs until the final warning bell sounded. As she walked through the open door to the salon—quiet, without Effie’s usual piano music—wide smiles broke out on several faces. A few brave souls applauded, but a frown from Smithers brought that to an end. Instead, he came forward to escort her to the captain’s table. “It is good to see you this morning, Miss Lamar. We are most distressed about the captain’s death.”
Ike rose to his feet, and his smile helped ease the core of cold at her heart. When Elaine brought the food to the pass, everyone paused, waiting for the grace Blanche had instituted. If she tried to pray out loud, she doubted her voice would carry across the room.
Smithers—Smithers?—led in a simple, but effective prayer. The waiters brought out heaping platters. Elaine made a rare trip from the kitchen. “If there is anything special you wish to eat, just tell me and I will cook it for you.”
Blanche shook her head, but Ike touched her arm. “Let her. She wants to help.”
Blanche couldn’t eat all the food already served, but she scrambled to think of something not on the table. “Maybe… some fried bananas? No, warm applesauce with cinnamon.”
“Yes, Miss Lamar. I will get right to it.” The cook’s smile was as good as a bear hug.
No one had treated Blanche with such tender care in her entire life, not even after her mother died. She waited, expecting tears to well up and spill out of her eyes. But they didn’t. Instead, tender gratitude held sway, filling her heart with peace. She’d like tea with cream and sugar. British-style, Mother used to call it. “Elaine?”
The cook appeared at the window in an instant. “Yes?”
“I would like to have a cup of hot tea. Do you have a cozy?”
“Yes, ma’am. Right away.”
Soon Blanche heard a teakettle whistling merrily and her insides warmed. She’d know she was truly better when the ice-cold spot at the center of her heart melted. For now she couldn’t seem to get warm. Grits, that might be good. She shook her head. She had already given Elaine plenty of extra work.
Ike offered her the basket of biscuits first, and she took one. They both reached for the gravy boat at the same time. He pulled his hand away, gesturing for her to take it first.
“I’ve never seen you take gravy on your biscuits.” He spooned eggs onto his plate.
“It sounds good this morning.”
Elaine appeared with a teapot encased in a crocheted cozy and poured Blanche’s cup mostly full. “Do you want more?”
Blanche shook her head. “That’s perfect.” She handed the gravy boat to Ike and added a spoon of sugar to the tea, then enough cream to fill the cup.
After she ate her biscuit, her hunger returned, and she ate bacon and eggs. When she had finished, she could almost see her reflection. Her mother used to say that. The memory brought a smile to her lips.
Ike smiled back. “You were hungry.”
Blanche stared at her empty plate. “I feel like I haven’t eaten for a week.”
“You haven’t done more than pick at your food since the accident.” Ike brought the cup of coffee to his lips. “I speak for everyone here when I say I’m glad your appetite has returned.”
Blanche finished a dish of warm applesauce, then she settled back in her seat with a sigh.
“You know Effie better than I do. What will tempt her?” Blanche surveyed the choices.
“Biscuits.” Ike wrapped the hot bread in a napkin inside the basket before adding butter and honey. “With sweet tea. I’ll carry it for you.” Together they headed down the stairs.
After delivering breakfast to Effie, Ike and Blanche returned to the salon. Logs and account books filled his arms; Blanche had to open the door. She brought pens and pencils, including a red one. Add “sensible and resourceful” to the list of qualities that described Blanche. His boss. He shook his head at the thought.
She poured herself a cup of coffee from the sideboard and added a dollop of cream. “I can’t seem to stay warm this morning.”
Summer heat bothered Ike as usual, but he nodded. “Do you want me to fetch a wrap from your cabin?”
“No, I’ll be all right.” She drank about half a cup, topped it off, and sat down at the table, keeping the cup away from the papers. “I was good with sums at school. I hope that will help.”
Ike wondered if she intended to keep the account books now that she was the owner. Did that fall under daily operations? Or owner’s prerogative? He wasn’t ready to explain the special entertainment income.
He cocked his head at Blanche. “You’ve had a lot thrown at you at once. Where do you want to start?”
She picked up the coffee cup and blew across the top before taking a sip. “I want to know everything.” She set the cup to the side. “But today, we need to decide our next actions. Are we ready to return to Roma? Roma is the Cordelia‘s home port, isn’t it?”
“No, we’re not ready. And yes, Roma is our home port.” Ike hesitated then decided to mention what was on his mind. “Your father kept a room at the hotel in Roma. You’ll want to go through his things when we get there. Or you may wish to keep the room, for yourself.”
A lost look brushed across her face. “That sounds like a good idea. I don’t have a place I can call home anymore.”
“Yes, you do.” Ike laid his hand on top of hers, where her trembling fingers held the red pencil. “The Cordelia, for as long as you want to stay.”
“So I’m like Mrs. Noah, my home afloat on a sea of water. At least I don’t have to take care of any animals.” She brushed a stray curl behind her ear. “Only my ark won’t come to rest on a mountaintop anytime soon.”
“There are worse places.”
She removed her hand from his and pointed to the stacks by Ike. “I recognize the captain’s logs, but what are the other books?”
“Accounts. Sums, as you called them. Income and expenses listed. Details of salaries. All the information needed to run Lamar Industries.”
She nodded. “I will want to study those, I’m sure. But what do we need to do before we can leave? We already have cargo on deck. Are we expecting more? Or do you go from business to business, asking?”
“We could carry more cargo, but it’s not too bad. I’ve posted notices in the hotels for passengers to contact us about a ride upriver.”
Blanche nodded. “Do we have definite dates for the baseball trip with Mr. Ventura’s team?”
Ike shrugged. “River travel is never that precise. The towns are expecting us, but they will announce the game after we arrive in town.” He drummed the table with his fingers. “The main thing we are lacking is a pilot.”
“What about Pete? I know my father did most of the work himself, but I always thought that was because he loved his work.”
“He did.” Ike nodded. “But he didn’t completely trust the Cordelia with anyone else. Pete is an adequate pilot, but he doesn’t have the feel for the river that Old Obie had. That you have, for that matter.”
“Do you think I should apply for my pilot’s license? Like my father suggested?”
The corners of Ike’s lips quirked upward. “Absolutely. But we need someone to help us in the meantime.”
Her eyes dancing, she challenged him. “Didn’t I hear that you’re a pilot yourself?”
He shook his head. “I’d be willing to take over for a few hours, in an emergency, but I’m less experienced than Pete. I don’t want to risk our future with my hands on the wheel.”
“Then what are our options?” She hit on the crux of the problem.
“I have a few ideas, but I have to warn you, there are reasons why none of the men I have in mind are on the river at the moment.”
She grimaced. “Let’s talk it over together.”
“If we can coax him out of retirement, I’d like to get Captain Pettigrew. He helped teach Old Obie way back when.”
Blanche absorbed that bit of news. “So he must be elderly by now.”
“He quit the river about ten years ago when he decided to give up the fight against the railroads. I haven’t seen him for a couple of years, but the last time I laid eyes on him, he was hale of body and sound of mind.”
“And if he’s not interested or available?” She left the question dangling.
“The others are either as old as Pettigrew or men who have lost the battle with booze.” Ike didn’t blunt the truth.
Her face paled, and she took a single swallow. “It’s cooled off.”
Standing, Ike reached for the coffeepot and refilled her cup. Satisfactory steam rose from the surface, and she gripped it gratefully. She closed her eyes, and her lips moved in silent words. When she opened them, determination shone from within. “Do you think Captain Pettigrew will be home this afternoon?”
That’s my girl. Ike nodded. “So, you want to come with me?”
“Of course.”
The first luncheon bell rang. “I’ll put these away.”
Blanche tugged the account book toward her. “I want to study this one. Unless there are some figures you need to enter?”
“Not today.” He wondered how long it would be before she began raising uncomfortable questions. If he was lucky, not on this trip. She’d be too busy studying the books, if he had anything to say about it.