Page 15 of Hearts Aweigh
Emily positioned her chair in the corner—a perfect vantage point to observe the room while enjoying the window view at her elbow. She slid the curtain back to let in more light. Blue water waved hello like an old friend from the other side of the glass.
“Time to draft our battle plan. How many viable candidates do we have for Abby?”
Gerry tapped a few laptop keys. “Three, plus one under consideration.”
“That’s all?” Althea asked. “She’s such a cute, cheerful thing. I’d expect the men would be lining up to date her.”
“It’s not about who’s interested,” Emily said. “It’s about who deserves her. A man who’s kind, dependable, and has a good relationship with the Lord. Those aren’t so easy to find.”
“Handsome too.” Althea stuck a finger in the air. “Might as well go for broke if we’re asking for the impossible.”
“Not a bad idea.” Emily laced her hands together. “Why don’t we ask for guidance from the One who specializes in making the impossible possible.”
They bowed their heads, and Emily prayed. “Dear Lord, you brought Abby to us for a reason. Help us find the man you intended for her. Let him be honest, trustworthy, and fun.”
Daisy spoke reverently. “We ask that he treat her with respect and consideration. Let him be a loving partner who supports her dreams and aspirations.”
Gerry prayed next. “Please give him the wisdom of Knightley. The good humor of Tilney. The constancy of Wentworth. And the simmering passion of Mr. Darcy.”
Althea finished. “And please, Lawd, let him be easy on the eyes. Someone Abby will be happy to look at across the breakfast table for the next sixty years.”
They concluded the prayer, and Gerry slipped her glasses on her nose. She spun her laptop around to the other women. It showed a picture of a slim man wearing ironed khakis with a black leather belt and a button-down shirt, tucked in neat and precise.
“Candidate number one,” she said. “Norville Boynton, the honorary chaplain for this voyage.”
“Doesn’t give us much time.” Emily took notes in her binder. “What are his qualifications?”
“Age thirty-one. Graduated from a respected seminary six years ago. Pastors a small Methodist church in Cape Canaveral, Florida. Does missionary work every summer at an orphanage in South America.”
The air-conditioning blew from the vent over their heads. Daisy withdrew a handkerchief from her purse and pressed it to her nostrils. “He fulfills the height requirement Abby gave us. Tall enough that she can wear heels, but just barely.”
“Something’s off.” Althea’s mouth scrunched at the corner. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for helping the ministry. My son-in-law works harder than any man I know pastoring his church in Chicago. But how did this Boynton guy stay single so long? Thirty-one years is a long time to wait if he’s truly walking the straight and narrow. We don’t want Abby marrying a cold fish.”
“Althea”—Daisy wrung her handkerchief—“that’s no way to refer to a member of the clergy.”
“I’m inclined to agree with her.” Gerry typed away. “No woman wants to crawl into bed with an ice cube.”
“Ladies!” Daisy’s handkerchief flapped like a signal flag.
Emily’s fingers drummed the table. “Deep-six the chatter, girls. We’ve got work to do. Who’s candidate number two, Gerry?”
“Peter.” Gerry clicked a button, and a picture appeared of the first mate in his dress whites, a cap tucked under his arm, his blue eyes wide with earnest fervor.
Althea laughed. “Peter? He’s skinnier than a Catholic at Lent. And fussy as all get-out.”
“He does like to remind us of the rules,” Emily admitted. “But he’s a good boy. And very accommodating.”
“Indeed.” Daisy put her signal flag away. “He’s always checking on us. And he’s a regular member of the staff. That eliminates the time constrictions we encounter with the minister.”
“Good point.” Emily made a note. “Although Abby’s so eager, I don’t think she’ll mind us rushing her a bit.”
“Still not feeling it.” Althea held up three fingers. “Next.”
Gerry scrolled down her computer screen. “Candidate number three requires a bit of finagling. He’s not aboard the ship.”
“Say that again.” Althea propped a hand on her hip.
“He’s a dock manager in Galveston.” Gerry spun her laptop again. It showed a burly man with abundant black curls. “I’ve talked with Diego Gutierrez several times on our turnaround days.”
