Page 2 of Hearts Aweigh
Emily, the short but commanding woman in the center, drummed her fingers on the table. Her hair stuck out from her head like it was boycotting conditioner. “This might make operations more difficult if the general public is aware of ourintentions.” Swatting a drooping curl, she continued. “We need to exercise more stealth. Gerry, make a note.”
The tall woman flipped open her laptop and began typing at lightning speed. “If the cat’s out of the bag, there’s no sense trying to stuff it back in. You’ll just end up with a scratched face.”
“I hate cats.” Althea unwrapped the waxed paper from a gooey, chocolate-covered caramel and took a bite. “They always act like they know better than me.”
“I’m inclined to side with the cat.” Gerry raised her hands from the keys. “Even with my allergies.”
“Don’t get my dander up.” Althea crumpled the candy paper and tossed it on the table.
“Better than cat dander.”
“Ladies.” Daisy reached down the table to quiet her squabbling compatriots. “We have company.” She fetched the discarded litter and tucked it in her purse.
Abby repressed a chuckle. It wouldn’t do to offend her interviewers. An uninformed person might mistake these women for a doddering, unfocused quartet, but she knew better. They were clever enough to spend their golden years on a cruise ship instead of in a retirement community. Smart and savvy, the Shippers made the impossible happen.
For Abby, finding true love was proving to be the most impossible of quests.
Emily studied her. “Most clients resent our interference. At least in the beginning. You’re the first person who’s ever sought us out.”
“I really want to get married,” Abby admitted without a hint of embarrassment.
“Why?”
“I haven’t thought too much about why.” She laughed. “Don’t most little girls love to stick a curtain on their heads and pretend to walk down the aisle? Not very women’s lib, I know. But true. I guess I want to get married because”—she wrinkled her nose—“it’s lonely by myself. I’d rather have a partner. Someone to share things with. That guaranteed one person who’s always on my side. My best friend.”
“Not all husbands are friendly,” Daisy drawled.
“Another reason I came to you.” Abby waved at the line of ladies. “I need the experts to help me choose wisely. Past experience has shown my taste isn’t always trustworthy.”
The dining room door whooshed open, and a white-blond head poked through. “Mrs. Windsor!” First mate Peter’s frantic blue eyes widened in horror as he scurried to their table. “Why are you still on board?” He skittered around Emily’s chair like a nervous hamster. “Ladies, I’m begging you. Please vacate the ship for zero count.”
“Forgive us, Peter.” Emily slid her walkie-talkie into her roomy handbag. “We had important business.”
The statement warmed Abby’s heart. Her love life was important to these ladies, even though they barely knew her.
“But it’s turnaround day,” Peter said.
“Sorry, baby.” Althea side-eyed Emily. “We’d have been off the boat an hour ago ifsomebodyhadn’t called an emergency meeting.”
He gaped at his phone. “It’s 11:54 a.m. The VIPs are boarding in six minutes.”
Daisy flipped open the miniature pendant watch she wore on a gold chain around her neck. “My timepiece says 11:52. Have no fear, Peter. We’ll make it.” She rose from her seat with the noble grace of a queen.
He sputtered. “I’m not sure that antique—”
Althea wiggled a finger. “Don’t discount something just because it’s been around awhile. Daisy told me that Masterson heirloom has kept time for a century without losing a second.”
Daisy’s lips quirked. “It wouldn’t dare.”
Emily folded her hands on top of the table. “You see, Peter. We have eight minutes. More than enough time. Why not let us stay aboard on turnaround day? You know we’re going to walk down the gangplank and come right back up again.”
The finicky employee shook his head. “It’s not protocol. Because you’ve received special permission from the owners, you ladies are allowed to leave your belongings in your cabins. But zero count is a nonnegotiable. We can’t let the new passengers onto the ship until the old passengers are off.”
“Are you calling us old?” Althea’s eyebrows puckered, along with her mouth.
Four pairs of Shipper eyes drilled into him.
“N-no, ma’am.” Peter retreated. “I meant, I … I—” His gaze moved in a wild circuit and landed on Abby. “Aren’t you supposed to pass out refreshments to the VIPs while they wait to board?”
