Shattered at Sea

by Cheryl Hollon

  They laughed, and Savannah could feel the tension at the back of her neck slip away. She selected a lime green frit and added cobalt blue stringers for her fluted vase demonstration. For a dramatic accent, she gathered a handful of lemon-lime millefiori pieces. They were Italian in origin and resembled miniature glass flowers. She placed the delicate selections in a wide pattern to make them easier to pick up.

  “He’ll turn up.” Eric did a double check on the materials that everyone placed on the stainless-steel marver table. Then he opened a small cupboard near the stage door and pulled out the portable audio system. He frowned and examined it carefully, then attached the battery pack for the microphone onto the back of his khaki shorts and clipped the microphone to his collar.

  “Do you always wear a portable microphone?” Savannah placed both hands on her hips. “I didn’t have one at Pilchuck Studio.”

  “Yes, I have to. My voice is thin and doesn’t carry over the wind and sea noise. I can’t work without it.” He tapped the bulb and said, “Test, testing. One, two, three, testing.” He frowned. It wasn’t working.

  The audiovisual panel was also on the port side of the ship next to their stage entrance door. He went to the panel and checked the power. It was on. Then he tapped on his headset microphone again.

  No sound.

  He frowned until deep furrows could be seen on his forehead. He pulled the portable battery pack off his shorts and checked the power switch. The little light glowed red on the wall panel. He turned the audio system off, then on and checked for sound.

  Nothing.

  Alan had been warming the blowpipe that he was going to use and looked around to Eric, who was fiddling with the panel. “What’s wrong?”

  “The sound isn’t working.”

  “For Pete’s sake, talk to the audience without it.” Alan spread his hands out palms up and jutted his chin forward. “It’s no big deal.”

  Eric mirrored the palms out. “It is a big deal for me. My voice doesn’t carry. I can’t work without a mic.”

  Alan gestured for Savannah to come over. “How strong is your voice? Can you talk for me instead of Eric?”

  “Sure, I’ve rarely used one of these fancy microphone thingies before this. My voice projects naturally.”

  Eric picked up the ship’s telephone that was also in the panel. “Great. You guys get started. I’ll give the ship’s AV guys a call and maybe they have a replacement available.”

  Savannah shrugged her shoulders. “Okay. I’ll assist Alan and narrate. That’s how I was trained, anyway. Let’s go.” Alan started the demonstration while Eric was arguing with someone on the phone.

  The center section of the front row was taken up by the Rosenberg twins dressed in electric orange throwback seventies style. On either side of them was another set of twins—gentlemen of about their age. They were white haired, wore white trousers with blue oxford button-down shirts along with those awful white patent loafers. Savannah noted that their large gold rings weren’t alike. That should help her tell them apart. She wondered if this inclination to dress alike later in life was a twin syndrome of some sort.

  Twins meeting twins on a cruise—you couldn’t make that up.

  She scanned the crowd and Edward was in the far back. She could see the wrinkles on his brow. He still looked worried.

  She cleared her throat and began. “Good afternoon, folks. Can you hear me?”

  The chatter of the audience quieted.

  “Good afternoon, is everybody having a good time?”

  The crowd yelled a rambunctious, “Yes!” Some of the guests lifted their fruity drink of the day high in the air.

  Savannah laughed. “Can you hear me there in the back?”

  She saw some thumbs-up from the last row. “We’re having some audio problems today. So, while Eric is busy calling the experts to get it fixed, I’ll simply yell!” She began the comfortable patter of explaining the process for the angelfish that Alan was making.

  Alan finished his piece by tapping the blowpipe and it dropped neatly into Savannah’s waiting thermal gloves. Everyone exhaled a sigh of relief and applauded. She walked along the front of the stage letting the first-row guests get a close view. Alan walked over to the annealing oven and opened the door for Savannah to place it upright, standing on its fins and tail. They both turned and bowed to another round of applause.

  Savannah removed the gloves and helped Eric prepare for his demonstration piece. He had planned to make a goblet with a dolphin as the stem holding up the clear bowl.

  Eric waved to her and Alan to stand close to him. In a whisper, with his back to the audience, he said, “No help is coming from the AV guys. They’re having similar problems with the ice skating show. There are unexplained power glitches everywhere. They did say they would try to get up here as soon as they could manage.” He looked at Alan. “Watch the stage door for them. If they see that we’re in the middle of a demonstration, they might duck out. Don’t let them do that.”

  He turned back to face the crowd with a broad smile. “Now for something completely different and quite difficult. My success rate on these goblets is running a bit higher lately. I usually lose about one in five. Now, however, I’m on a record-breaking streak. I’ve made twelve in a row and I’m hoping this will be my lucky thirteen.”

  Eric began gathering the glass for the goblet from the furnace and started the process of blowing, heating, shaping, and reheating to form a lovely thin shape. For the dolphin, he used a piece of solid blue glass that he had warming in a special oven to bring it up to temperature. He and Savannah managed to affix the dolphin to the globe with no problems.

  While Eric was pulling the blue glass into the shape of a dolphin, an audiovisual guy entered from stage left. He sidled around the front of the demonstration area and handed Alan a bullhorn. This apparently was the crew’s solution to the audio problem. Alan looked at it like it had come from another planet. He mouthed a really? to the AV guy, then shrugged his shoulders and put it up to his lips.

  “Testing. Testing one, two, three.”

  Nothing came out of the bullhorn. Alan looked down at the handle and found the power on switch.

  “Testing!” blared out of the bullhorn as if they were in a football stadium. Everyone in the audience shrieked and put their hands over their ears.

  Eric also jumped and nearly crashed his dolphin goblet into the side of the furnace. “Alan, put that thing down! I almost lost this.”

  Alan tiptoed gingerly over to stage left and placed the bullhorn down on the deck under the audio panel. He stretched out his hands as if to command it to stay and backed away slowly. He faced the audience. “We’ll leave that there and I’ll continue to shout a bit. Okay?”

  The crowd chuckled, and the sounds of agreement were heard.

  Meanwhile Eric was forming the dolphin by pulling the blue glass with pliers, returning it to the furnace, and then adjusting it again. It finally met his approval and he held it up for the viewers to see. Alan announced that there was still the base to attach followed by opening the mouth of the goblet.

  Savannah put a small gather of clear glass on a blowpipe and she and Eric attached it. He scored a channel in the glass close to Savannah’s blowpipe and then dripped a little water in the channel. A sharp rap on Savannah’s blowpipe caused it to separate, accompanied by a gasp from the spectators.

  Eric shaped the foot of the goblet and then turned his attention to the opening of the clear bowl. He heated the entire goblet, concentrating mostly on the enclosed globe. He removed it and sat back on the bench. He used the pointed tips of giant tweezers to start a hole to form the bowl. He inserted the tweezers in the hole and gently pulled the opening larger and larger. It took three trips to the furnace to keep it to the correct temperature.

  At last he was satisfied with the gentle tulip curve for the goblet bowl. Eric held his finished goblet high enough for everyone in the audience to see. There was a loud round of applause.

 
; Eric sat back at the glassblowing bench.

  Alan put his index finger in front of his lips and mimed a shh to the crowd. He signaled for everyone to cross their fingers and hold them over their heads. The audience followed his direction.

  Eric took the giant tweezers and scored a groove between the blowpipe and the foot of the goblet. Savannah put on the oven mitts and pulled them extra tight up her arms. She glanced out into the crowd and saw a familiar head.

  She lifted her chin. It was Ian!

  “Savannah,” Eric whispered with a hint of panic in his voice. “Pay attention.”

  She turned back to Eric and the beautiful dolphin goblet landed in her gloves. It wobbled from side to side for a second, then shattered into shards.

  The crowd groaned like a weary old man.

  Savannah stood back from the carnage, then looked at Eric. “I’m so sorry.”

  Eric stood up and looked at the crowd. “Obviously, thirteen is not my lucky number.” A small rumble of laughter accompanied his pity-me look.

  “I thought it was okay.” Savannah pulled off the gloves and put them back on top of the annealing oven. Then she returned to stand over the shards.

  “Sometimes, it’s not something that we can even guess,” said Eric. “I thought it was fine, as well, but I have seen that happen before. This is only the second time.”

  Alan joined them as if they were standing over a body. He tapped Eric on the shoulder. “Here, this will make you feel better. The AV guys came up with a backup portable microphone system.”

  His eyes lighting up, Eric clipped the battery pack on his waistband at the small of his back and slipped the headset on. “Testing, testing, one, two, three.” A huge grin split his face as the sound carried to the back of the crowd.

  Now it was Savannah’s turn and she was hardly calm. She looked back to the final row for Edward, but he was gone. She certainly hoped it was because he had spied Ian, as well. But there was no time to think about that. Her turn had come and she was determined to make a beautiful fluted vase.

  Eric was so grateful to have a portable microphone that he over-explained every step that she took in the process.

  Alan was rolling his eyes and holding his sides tightly to keep from laughing out loud. It was a little funny and helped to push thoughts of Edward and Ian away while she concentrated on the glowing ball of glass. To make sure that the vase was a little bit larger, she made an extra gather in the furnace in between picking up the frit and the stringers.

  Just as Savannah was using the giant tweezers to make the opening in her vase, she caught sight of Edward. At her next reheating phase, she risked turning her head toward where she saw him.

  He shook his head and mouthed a no.

  She furrowed her brow, confused. Was that truly Ian? Am I just wishing so hard that I’ve imagined him ?

  The next step in making her fluted vase was to step up onto the glassblowing bench and swing the blowpipe like a pendulum to let gravity lengthen the piece. She then raised it a few feet and swirled it so that it expanded into a blossom.

  The crowd gasped and then burst into applause. Savannah quickly reheated the finished piece, removed it, and safely landed it into Alan’s gloved hands. She gave a little flourishing bow and they were done for the day.

  Several of the cruisers tackled her with questions as they stood by the stage door while the crowd dispersed. A hummingbird of an elderly man came up and grasped her hand with both of his trembling ones.

  “That was a lovely show. I love to see you girls hang in there with the men.” He continued to hold her hand.

  “Thanks; it’s more about balance than strength.”

  He nodded and noticed that he was still holding her. He let go and stepped back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Alan whispered into her ear, “I see the cavalier has found you.”

  Savannah continued to smile as the guests left the seating area. “Cavalier?”

  “That’s what we call him. He’s one of those permanent cruisers who basically lives aboard for about the same price as a fancy nursing home. It’s very popular with a certain set of seniors. He’s been on this particular ship for about two months.”

  Savannah finally extracted herself from the glass demonstration viewers and grabbed Edward by the arm.

  “What happened?”

  “I took off after the guy and I lost him. He was the same general build as Ian, but why would he run from me?” Edward raised his hand in a tight fist. “My gut says it wasn’t Ian and he’s still missing.”

  Savannah rubbed his arm. “I think we’re both wanting to find him so much that we’re not assessing the situation correctly. Running away from us just doesn’t make sense. I agree that it wasn’t him.”

  * * *

  The dress code for tonight’s dinner was formal. Savannah wore a full-length black velvet gown that fit like a glove. Her panic-driven shopping trip to Dillard’s at Tyrone Mall had unearthed the classic in a markdown rack that made the purchase a little less painful. She didn’t like spending money for clothes she wouldn’t wear often. She anticipated that her accountant would have a comment to indicate that a floor-length formal didn’t improve the bottom line for her business.

  Her late mother’s heritage jewelry set the perfect tone with diamond earrings and an art deco sterling silver pin. The pin was shaped like a shield. She waited for Edward in the lobby in front of the main dining room.

  She fiddled with the rhinestone catch on her tiny red evening bag that held only lipstick and her pass card.

  “Savannah, dear,” said Faith as she grabbed Savannah’s hand and patted it. “I’m so glad we caught you before you went into dinner.”

  “We changed our table to one that could seat eight instead of six.” Rachel smoothed the skirt of her purple satin gown with a lavender lace peplum jacket. “We have invited our gentlemen to join us.”

  Faith put her lavender gloved hand on Savannah’s arm. “I hope you don’t mind, dear. They have been very considerate and entertaining.”

  “It’s nice to have interesting conversations again.”

  Savannah smiled at their earnest expressions. “There’s no need to ask. Of course, they should join us. Have you seen Ian today? I thought I saw him at the demonstration.”

  The twins shook their heads in unison.

  “We’ve been looking,” said Rachel.

  “But we haven’t really been out and about very much.” Faith looked sad. “We’re finding the movement of the ship a little precarious.”

  “Let’s be clear,” countered Rachel. “We’re not decrepit. We don’t need canes or walkers yet.”

  Faith tilted her head to the side. “However, we did have some wobbly moments up on the top deck.”

  “I’m glad the demonstration occurred before that little bit of weather,” Savannah replied.

  Edward appeared looking like James Bond of the Sean Connery flavor. His tux fit perfectly, and he looked outrageously comfortable with a black cummerbund and expertly tied red bow tie.

  Savannah could feel the deeply pleasant effects of his good looks right down to her toes.

  He grabbed her hand and kissed it like Cinderella’s Prince Charming. “You look brilliant—absolutely stunning.” He gazed into her eyes for a long slow moment like he was trying to memorize every detail of her appearance for recalling later.

  “Have you seen Ian?”

  “No, and neither have Faith nor Rachel. I’m convinced now that he’s alive.” Their waiter arrived to seat them. “Hang on, I’ll explain after we’ve been seated.”

  Edward tucked her hand onto his arm to proceed into the dining room. The Rosenberg twins followed. Their waiter led them to a location that was near the captain’s table. Edward looked at Savannah with one eyebrow raised.

  “We’ve been moved to join Faith’s and Rachel’s gentlemen friends. They obviously have some influence with the crew.”

  “But what if Ian—”

  “The head
waiter has taken care of that. If Ian shows up with his lady friend, they’ll be led to our table.”

  Edward ordered a gin and tonic for himself and a glass of champagne for Savannah. The rest of the table ordered the ship’s special drink of the day, Rumrunner.

  “Before anyone else gets here,” started Edward, “I know that Ian is alive.”

  Savannah turned to him so abruptly that she nearly tipped over her water glass. She caught it and set it upright. “How do you know?”

  “I can’t find his day-by-day pill box. He must have gotten into our cabin and now he has it with him.”

  Rachel leaned forward. “Is anything else missing?”

  Faith leaned over as well. “Maybe his shaving kit or brush?”

  “No, nothing else appears to be missing. So, the question is where is he?” Edward scratched his head. “Why didn’t he leave a note?”

  The four of them sat back in their chairs with a puzzled silence so thick you could slice it and spread it on toast.

  Rachel pointedly stared at the four empty places at their table, then looked over to her sister. “What do you think has happened to our gentlemen?”

  Faith squinted her eyes and pouted. “We may have been just a tiny bit forward with them, dear. We can be a little larger than life sometimes.”

  Savannah quickly put the napkin over her mouth.

  Rachel, “Yes, sister. We sometimes strike people the wrong way. I think we’d better tell Edward now, don’t you?”

  Faith nodded. “I think we’ve already waited too long. You start.”

  “Edward, we told you that we saw Ian out on the deck but there’s more.”

  “More?” Savannah shifted her head around the arm of their server who placed a gin and tonic in front of her eye-line to Faith. “What do you mean? What happened?”

  Rachel raised a finger, looking at the server. “One moment. Could you return in a few minutes? We’re not quite ready to put our orders in.”

  The waiter finished serving their cocktails and left.