On Thursday morning, a thick fog blanketed the ship, as if to soothe the passengers after last night’s rocking storm. A cup of coffee sat cooling next to Caroline. She was writing up her notes for her story before everyone else woke. Last night had been awful—she hadn’t felt that sick since she’d gotten food poisoning from a Caesar salad in SoHo years ago. Given the smooth sailing now, however, it was almost easy to forget that she’d been hunched over the toilet last night, Javier rubbing her back and desperately trying to make her feel better. For a while, the cruise had felt like her own special version of Deliverance.
The only remaining pieces of evidence of the storm were the large puddles around the pool, where water had sloshed over, and the abandoned cocktail cups, wrappers, and flip-flops scattered across the deck. Caroline watched while a steward swept at the mess with a wide-brush broom. It occurred to her that maybe he’d be willing to talk with her about the working conditions on the ship, but then she thought better of it. He was probably recovering himself from last night.
In her sleuthing, Caroline had learned that the Bermuda Breeze hired more than one thousand crew members from over sixty countries. She’d spoken with one woman, Jenna, who worked in the kids’ clubs on the ship. Her own children, she said, were back in Burma, where her sister cared for them for the eight months she was at sea. It seemed an inordinately long time to be away from one’s family, but almost everyone Caroline talked to acted as if they’d been granted a rare opportunity, their paychecks pennies from heaven that they could send home—and money that would stretch much further in those places than it would on American soil. Especially the young male stewards she’d interviewed seemed to consider working on a cruise ship a privilege. They enjoyed the perks—the travel, meeting new people, the food and entertainment—that came with it.
In her more cynical moments, Caroline wondered if maybe they’d drunk the Kool-Aid, convincing themselves that they were living lives of leisure when, in fact, they toiled for ten-hour shifts or longer. But who was she to judge? Her job was to report on the leisurely aspects of the cruise and the highlights of Bermuda, not prick people’s conscience. It wasn’t as if she was a journalist for Mother Jones, after all. Maybe another day.
She went back into the cafeteria to refresh her coffee. Whether it was due to last night’s rough seas or the fact that she’d been picking at the same food for several days now, Caroline found it difficult to glance at the buffet. What had seemed like an ambrosial spread the first night had transformed into a ransacked display of muffins and bagels, bruised apples and bananas. The kitchen, she thought, must be nearing the end of its wares. Caroline had gorged herself on so many buttery treats that even the blueberry muffins didn’t tempt her this morning. (She’d long since given up on working out on board. What was the point? The caloric invasion was swift and unbeatable.)
Like impatient toddlers, the passengers lined up for the buffet this morning were getting pushy and belligerent. There were those who cut the line, pretending not to know better; the parents who juggled their own plates and their children’s and inevitably ended up dropping food; and then the handful of finicky passengers who demanded a gluten-free, dairy-free waffle that wasn’t available. It was this last group that got on Caroline’s last nerve. She wanted to ask them if their waffles should be calorie-free as well. Yes, even in her newly engaged state, she could still feel uncharitable toward her fellow passengers.
Which probably meant it was time to go home.
Besides, she had a wedding to plan! It seemed surreal. She’d been so focused on the proposal that the actual marriage part hadn’t quite registered yet. There was so much to do, so much to decide on before, well, when? A fall wedding, she thought, would be nice. Yes, autumn in New York would be a lovely time to get married. Something small and intimate. Maybe in Central Park?
Across the room she spied Lee, nursing a cup of tea, and went over to say hello.
“Good morning. Glad to see you survived the Poseidon,” she said. Lee peered up at her, big bags looming under her eyes, her blond hair flattened against her scalp.
“Very funny. Wasn’t it awful? I think I got maybe two hours of sleep total. Between the rocking and the stuff with Lacey—” Lee stopped and sipped her tea. She hadn’t revealed Lacey’s secret to anyone.
Caroline cocked her head. “Uh-oh. Is Lacey’s ankle worse?” She pulled out a chair and sat down.
Lee shook her head. “No, the ankle seems better actually.” She debated whether to say anything. Would it be breaking Lacey’s confidence to tell Caroline? Her daughter adored her aunt. Would she be upset if Caroline found out that she’d been “almost” pregnant?
“We had a little pregnancy scare,” Lee whispered. “But it’s nothing,” she added quickly. “No need to worry.”
Caroline fell back in her seat. “Whoa.” She was quiet for a minute. “That’s big. I had no idea. Is she doing okay? Are you okay?”
Lee nodded. “Yeah, it was quite a shock at first, I’ll give you that. But now we’re fine. At least, I think we are.”
“Oh, lovey, I’m so sorry you were dealing with that. And here I was, only thinking about myself. I’m afraid I haven’t been a very good friend lately; I’ve been so focused on things with Javier.”
Lee shrugged. “It’s all right. I didn’t know myself until two days ago.” She paused. “Besides, I’m really happy for you guys.” And, as she said the words, it struck Lee that they were genuine. She was glad that Javier and Caroline would be together and that there would be another celebration to look forward to after the cruise.
“Aw, thanks,” Caroline said. “I still can’t believe it myself.” Her eyes turned dreamy for a second, as if she were imagining a five-tiered wedding cake with fondant, then quickly refocused on Lee. “But what about Lacey? Do you want me to talk to her? Was it that boyfriend of hers—or some other loser—who almost screwed up her life?” Caroline grunted. “Sorry, poor choice of words.”
But Lee laughed. It helped to have a girlfriend who wasn’t shy about getting to the heart of the matter. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been missing Caroline’s no-nonsense attitude.
“Do we need Javier to fly up to Maine, maybe, and break the kid’s legs?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” answered Lee. “I will tell you, though, I’m going to make a more concerted effort to visit Lacey this year. Get to know the boyfriend a little better. Give him the hairy eyeball and all that.”
“Ooh, that sounds like fun.” Caroline grinned evilly. “Let me know when you’re going. I might invite myself along for a girls’ trip. I think I’d like to meet this Taylor guy, lay down the law.”
“Tyler,” Lee corrected. “I always mix it up myself.”
“What about Tyler?” Abby asked. She’d found them and was wedging herself into the last open chair at the table. Despite the gloomy weather outside, she carried a bag filled with all her pool gear, including her sun hat.
Caroline tossed Lee a look. “Oh, nothing,” she said. “We just want to make sure that Lacey’s boyfriend understands there are certain rules that come with dating our goddaughter.”
“Why? What’s going on? Do we not like the boyfriend?” Abby asked, easily falling into their routine of talking in the collective we when it came to forming opinions beyond their own rooming group. “Do we not like the dining hall food?” someone might ask or “What do we think of Professor Peterson?” It had always comforted Abby, as if their rooming group was a collective force, one person with three minds.
“We’re not quite sure about the boyfriend,” Caroline explained now.
“We think he’s nice, but we don’t really know him that well,” Lee concurred cryptically.
“And we’re thinking we should get to know him better since Lacey thinks so highly of him,” continued Caroline. Abby felt as if they were speaking to her in code. She didn’t know exactly what was going on, but she was pretty certain she’d be agreeable to whatever her girlfriends suggested.
“Okay?” said Abby.
“And we were thinking, more specifically, of taking a little road trip up to Maine this fall. You know, to visit Lacey, maybe introduce ourselves to Taylor. I mean Tyler.” Caroline winked at her. “Are you in, Abs?”
“Oh.” Abby thought she understood now. From the sound of it, Tyler had gotten Lacey into a bit of trouble and needed a talking-to. Well, the roommates had been down this path before, typically with their own boyfriends, when one or the other needed to be set straight. But the rule of looking out for each other naturally extended to Lacey and, Abby hoped, to Chris and Ryan.
She gazed around the table at her roommates’ expectant faces, the friends she loved most, the girls who would traipse across the Sahara to give her water, if need be.