by Janet Dailey
JANET DAILEY CAPTURES THE
HEART OF AMERICA!
LOOK FOR:
The Four Volume Calder Saga:
This Calder Range
Stands a Calder Man
This Calder Sky
Calder Born, Calder Bred
The Best Way to Lose
For the Love of God
Foxfire Light
The Glory Game
The Great Alone
The Hostage Bride
The Lancaster Men
Leftover Love
Mistletoe and Holly
Might Way
The Pride of Hannah Wade
Ride the Thunder
The Rogue
The Second Time
Separate Cabins
Silver Wings, Santiago Blue
Terms of Surrender
Touch the Wind
Western Man
PUBLISHED BY POCKET BOOKS
The Stars Were Out,
a Diamond Shimmer of Varying Brilliance
Above the Ship’s Deck. . . .
“I thought you’d be safely tucked in your bed by now,” Gard said, casually voicing his surprise at finding her there.
“It’s such a beautiful night that I came out for some fresh air before turning in,” Rachel said, disturbed by the effect he was having on her.
“What is it you’re fighting, Rachel?” he asked with a quizzical look.
“I simply find it awkward being alone with you when so many people have made the mistake of thinking we’re married,” she insisted. “It’s bound to put ideas into your head.”
“And yours?” Gard suggested knowingly. He lowered his head to fasten his mouth onto her lips. . . .
Books by Janet Daily
Calder Born, Calder Bred
Stands a Calder Man
This Calder Range
This Calder Sky
The Best Way to Lose
Touch The Wind
The Glory Game
The Pride of Hannah Wade
Silver Wings, Santiago Blue
For the Love of God
Foxfire Light
The Hostage Bride
The Lancaster Men
Leftover Love
Mistletoe & Holly
The Second Time
Separate Cabins
Terms of Surrender
Western Man
Nightway
Ride the Thunder
The Rogue
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
Copyright © 1983 by Janet Dailey
Cover art copyright © 1985 Robert A. Maguire
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Simon & Schuster Inc., 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
Originally published by Silhouette Books.
ISBN: 0-6-71-87514-0
eISBN: 978-1-4516-3979-7
First Pocket Books printing September 1985
10 9 8
Map by Ray Lundgren
POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Printed in the U.S.A.
SEPARATE
CABINS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We wish to offer a special thanks to the Princess Cruise Lines for their cooperation and assistance during our research on their ship, the Pacific Princess, on its cruise to the Mexican Riviera. And a special acknowledgment, too, goes to Max Hall with the Princess Cruise Lines for his assistance. It was greatly appreciated. Lastly, we’d like to thank Captain John Young and the crew of the Pacific Princess for practically allowing us the run of the ship. We enjoyed his company immensely and especially his wonderful British wit.
BILL and JANET DAILEY
Chapter One
“It will be approximately another twenty minutes before they’ll begin boarding passengers. You’ll be going through that door.” The young woman, seated behind the table, pointed to the open doorway at the far end of the cavernous port terminal, then passed Rachel a long, narrow boarding card and two visitor passes. “Enjoy your cruise, Mrs. MacKinley.”
“Thank you.” Rachel stepped away from the table to make room for the next passenger in line, then paused to look around and locate the couple who had come to see her off.
The long table was one of several that had been set up to process the tickets and papers of arriving cruise passengers. Their location split the long half of the huge room nearly in the middle, separating the waiting area with seats from the baggage-handling section where passengers’ luggage was loaded on a conveyer belt and carried out to the ship’s hold. From there the luggage would be disbursed to the cabins indicated on their attached tags and be waiting in the passengers’ assigned rooms when they came aboard.
The sitting area did not have enough seats to accommodate all of the hundreds of waiting passengers gathered in the terminal building of the port of Los Angeles. The size of the crowd was increased by the addition of friends or relatives who accompanied some of the passengers, like Rachel. The majority of the passengers and their guests were milling around the large open area near the entrance. Somewhere in that throng of people were Rachel’s friends, Fan and John Kemper.
As Rachel moved toward the crowd her gray eyes made a slow, searching sweep of the faces, but it was the red-flowered silk of her friend’s shirtwaist dress that caught her attention and guided Rachel to the waiting couple.
“Everything all set?” John Kemper inquired as Rachel rejoined them.
By profession he was an attorney, of medium height and blond hair thinning to show the start of a bald spot at the back of his head. On the weekends he avoided the conservative dress of his profession in favor of flashier garb, like the loud red slacks and plaid blazer he was wearing. Mac MacKinley had been a client of his. It was through that association and Rachel’s long-time friendship with John’s wife that she had met Mac, later marrying him.
“Everything is set,” Rachel confirmed and handed him the two visitor cards. “Here are your passes. After all the passengers are on board, they’ll let the visitors on the ship . . . which we won’t board for another twenty minutes.”
“If that’s the case, let’s wait outside,” Fan suggested immediately. “It’s so crowded and noisy in here that I can hardly hear myself think.”
As Fan spoke Rachel was accidentally jostled by the person next to her, giving credence to her friend’s suggestion. “Lead the way,” she agreed.
John headed their exodus, threading a path through the press of milling people to the door. Single file, the two women followed after him with Rachel bringing up the rear. A faint smile touched the corners of her mouth at the way Fan kept glancing over her shoulder to be sure Rachel was behind them. It was a mother-hen trait that came naturally to Fan, accustomed to keeping track of her brood of four children, three boys and a much awaited girl.
The thought of the four towheaded youngsters brought a flicker of remorse, sobering the gray of her eyes. More than once in the last four years Rachel had wished she and Mac hadn’t decided to wait awhile before starting a family. At the time it had seemed sensible, since their furniture business was expanding with branch stores. Mac had been such a big, strapping man, so full of life and ambition. No one could have foretold that a massive coronary would take his life before he turned thirty-five.
They passed out
of the building’s shade into the slanting sunlight of a February afternoon. A drifting breeze picked up the scent of flowers from the bouquets for sale as bon voyage gifts just outside the terminal’s entrance. Rachel made an effort to throw off those reflective thoughts of the past and look to the present and its surroundings.
A few other people shared their desire to escape the crowd inside the building and dawdled on the walk, watching the late arrivals as they drove up to the curb. A long row of buses was parked to one side, having already transported those passengers who had flown into the Los Angeles airport.
“We can sit over here on this ledge.” Fan led them to a landscaped island of palms and shrubbery where there was room for them to sit on the concrete lip of the low wall.
Conscious of how quickly the skirt of her white suit showed the smallest trace of dust or dirt, Rachel brushed at the seat before she sat down. The femininely tailored suit was a flattering choice, showing the slimness of her long-legged figure. Its whiteness accented the ebony sheen of her black hair and the silvery lightness of her gray eyes, sooted in with dark, curling lashes. Her blouse was a jewel-bright shade of blue silk with a collar that tied into a wide bow. It was a striking outfit, made all the more stunning by the attractive beauty of the woman wearing it.
John remained standing, not taking a seat on the ledge beside them. “There’s a catering truck parked down the way. Would you girls like something cold to drink?”
“I’ll have a diet cola.” Fan was quick to accept her husband’s offer, then glanced inquiringly at Rachel. “Rachel?”
“An orange drink, please.”
“A diet cola and an orange drink coming right up,” John repeated their orders, then sketched them a brief salute before moving away.
There was a thoughtful smile on Fan’s face as she watched her husband leave. After a second she turned to Rachel and sighed, “I love it when he calls us ‘girls.’ It makes me feel as if I’m eighteen again.” She laughed shortly, a merry sound full of fun at herself. “Half the time I think I still am. That is”—she qualified—“until those four little demons of mine come charging into our bedroom in the mornings. Then I’m forced to remember I passed the thirty mark two years ago.”
“You look the same as you did the day we graduated from college,” Rachel insisted, but made no comment about Fan’s reference to her children. The mention of them came too quickly after her own thoughts of regret for her childless existence.
“Then how come the red dress I wore that day clings in all the wrong places when I try to wear it now?” Fan demanded with a mocking look. “I suppose after four children I should be grateful I can get into it at all.”
“You look wonderful and you know it,” Rachel assured her friend, because it was true.
There were minor changes in Fan’s appearance. Her blonde hair no longer flowed silkenly to her waist; it was shorter and styled in a sophisticated French sweep. Her once pencil-thin figure was now well rounded but still slender. And Fan was the same person, actively involved in a half dozen projects at once and managing to successfully juggle them all. The quickest way to make an enemy of her was by still calling her Fanny instead of Fan, an appellation she hated.
“I look like exactly what I am—a country club mother of four children, wife of a successful attorney with a flourishing law practice, and committee member of a dozen charities. All the conventional things I vowed I would never be . . . until I met John. And I couldn’t be happier and more fulfilled than I am now,” she declared with a serenely contented smile.
“Sometimes I wonder where the years have gone.” Rachel turned her wistful gray eyes to the pale blue sky and stared, lost in its infinity. “Graduation seems like only yesterday. I turn around, and here I am—thirty-two years old and—” She had been about to say “alone,” but she stopped herself.
“And about to embark on a glorious seven-day cruise down the Mexican Riviera,” Fan finished the sentence for her, deliberately steering it away from any potentially depressing thought.
Recognizing her friend’s intention, Rachel swung her gaze around and smiled in silent gratitude of Fan’s understanding. “I don’t actually believe I’m going yet,” she admitted with a touch of wryness. “I probably won’t believe it until the ship leaves and I’m on it.”
Her comment seemed to explain her lack of enthusiasm. She’d planned vacations before, but something had always come up at the last minute, forcing her to cancel. A small frown of concentration lay upon her features as Rachel mentally went over her checklist to see if she had overlooked any item that might now crop up.
“This time you’re going,” Fan stated. “John and I are personally going to make certain you are on the Pacific Princess when she leaves. After all I went through making the reservations and picking up your ticket last week, you’re going.”
Rachel smiled absently at the firm avowal. Something was nagging at her, holding any eager anticipation for the trip at bay. It darkened her gray eyes, giving them a vaguely troubled and faraway look.
“You could look a little more excited,” her friend accused.
“Sorry.” She flashed a glance at Fan, still slightly preoccupied. “I have this feeling I’ve forgotten something.”
“I don’t know what it could be.” Now it was the blonde who frowned as she considered the possibilities. “Mrs. Pollock, next door, already has the key so she can water your houseplants. And you’ve arranged to have your mail held at the post office until you come back. You did check to make sure your passport hasn’t expired, didn’t you?”
“It’s current,” Rachel nodded. Even without it she had enough other identification with her to allow her to enter and leave Mexico.
“Everything else has been handled, and they’ve already taken your luggage aboard.” Fan sighed and briefly shook her head. “I can’t think of anything other than that.”
“Other than what?” John returned with their cold drinks in time to catch the last part of his wife’s remark. His fingers were splayed to grip the three containers, slippery with the condensation coating their sides. Plastic straws were poking out of their tops.
“Rachel thinks she’s forgotten something,” Fan explained as she took two of the drinks from him before John dropped them, and passed the orange soda to Rachel.
“She has,” he stated without hesitation and reached in the side pocket of his plaid blazer to offer them napkins.
“What?” Her gray eyes widened, surprised that he seemed to know something she didn’t.
“The cares of the world,” he pronounced, then let a knowing little smile curve his mouth. “Or more specifically, the care of the Country House, home of fine furniture. Which is the same thing since you’ve made it your whole world after you lost Mac.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s my whole world.” Rachel was obliged to protest his all-inclusive assessment, yet she realized it was true.
The furniture company had almost become the child she and Mac never had, the recipient of her time and attention. In the last four years since Mac’s death she had lost touch with most of the friends who were outside her business sphere—with the exception of Fan. Even then, the close contact had been maintained mostly because John acted as both her business and personal attorney. Nearly everything in her life revolved around the company and its stores.
Fortunately she had worked in the company, both at the retail outlets and in the office, putting to practical use her college degree in business management, after she and Mac were married, so she’d had the knowledge and experience to run it herself when she had acquired sole ownership of it on his death. It hadn’t been easy, but the challenge of putting the company on a more solid footing had been rewarding, both emotionally and monetarily. She’d had the satisfaction of taking something she and Mac had dreamed and making it come true.
“For all intents and purposes it might as well be,” John countered, knowing her too well.
“Perhaps,” Rachel conceded absently. Hi
s reference to the business had unrolled a new string of thoughts. She lifted back the cuff of her jacket sleeve and glanced at the thin gold watch around her wrist. “I should be able to catch Ben Atkins at the office. I have time before they begin boarding passengers, so I think I’d better phone him. That ad campaign is going to start running on television next and I need—”
“You are not going to call anybody.” Fan laid a restraining hand on her arm, firmly asserting an authority born of friendship. “You are staying right here. I’m not going to let a last-minute phone call interfere with your vacation plans.”
“This is not the most opportune time to be gone for two weeks.” As soon as she said it Rachel recognized it was this knowledge that had been troubling her. She began to have doubts about the wisdom of leaving on the cruise just at the launch of a major ad campaign. Granted, the cruise only lasted seven days, but she had planned on staying in Acapulco a few days longer before flying back. Of course, she could always cut short that stay and return within a week.
“One of these days you’re going to learn there isn’t an opportune time to take a vacation when you own your own business,” John calmly informed her. “Besides, you are the one who said Ben Atkins was capable of handling things while you’re gone.”
“He is.” It was a rather grudging admission. “But I’ve worked hard to build the company to its present status. I’m not sure it’s wise to leave now when we’re launching a critical phase of new advertising. You were the one who advised against selling the company after Mac’s death, and encouraged me to operate it myself. Now I’m going to be gone at a time when fast decisions need to be made.”
“And if something important arises, Ben can contact the ship by radio. You aren’t going to be completely out of touch,” he reminded, countering her argument with calm logic.
“No, I suppose not,” Rachel acknowledged and sipped thoughtfully through the straw, coral-red lipstick leaving its imprint on the clear plastic.
“When was the last time you took a vacation?” John changed his tactics, challenging her with the question.
