I guess she was right. I always thought of myself as so introverted, but would an introvert be able to sell event planning? And run the events?
“I know I’m right,” she said, reading my mind. “Oh, they’re calling us forward. What do we do now?”
I snapped into action. This trip would never be successful if I couldn’t manage herding these cats through check-in!
Forty-five minutes later, we had all deposited our carry-ons into our tiny staterooms, marveled at the efficiency of such small spaces, and assured Mr. D’Ag that our larger luggage would indeed be delivered. Finally, Juliet and I managed to leave to find the Lido Deck to search for my mother and Russ. The others took a more leisurely route and would eventually find us.
We wound our way on the deck through people sitting and listening to joyful island music blaring through the loudspeakers. I saw Russ sitting calmly in a deck chair but didn’t see my mother. Russ was engaged in conversation with a sleek blonde. Wait. What tha—
Would my mother never stop amazing me? Instead of the suburban matronly bob that I was used to, she was now sporting a head-hugging pixie haircut. And were those highlights a lighter shade of blonde?
Before I had an opportunity to comment, Juliet whapped me on the back of the head.
“Hey!” I rubbed my noggin. “Where did you learn that?”
“I guess I’ve been hanging around your East Coast family for a while,” she shrugged. “In any case, cool it. I know what you are thinking. But your mother looks awesome in the new haircut, and the new style of dress is pretty cool, too!”
What? I didn’t even look at what she was wearing. Hmm Instead of her conservative capris and button-down pastel top, she had on a bright, floral mid-calf sleeveless dress, a “statement” necklace and jeweled wedgie sandals! All unquestionably tasteful, but still ...
“Mother?”
She turned to look at me, and her face was one of pure joy. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought she’d had some sort of face-lift. She spoke, and only when her cultured tones came forth did I know this was my mother.
“Darling! Russ and I checked into our staterooms and had time to wander around the ship a bit! It is so lovely. Why did I put off going on a cruise for so long?”
Because your crowd was more the firmly-on-the-ground type? Or used to be! Who knew with her these days?
“Keira, are we all in staterooms that overlook The Commons?” asked Russ. He was referring to the deck of the ship that was designed to resemble a large city park and was ringed by small shops and restaurants.
I guess I still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of my mother having a suitor, much less the fact that he had inspired an extreme makeover. I hesitated. Luckily, Juliet jumped in.
“All of our staterooms are in a row, so yes, we all basically have the same view, Mr. Shaw.”
“Call me Russ. So that means all our balconies are connected?” he asked. “If we have room service breakfast, we’ll see each other bright and early.”
“You bet,” said Juliet, brightly, obviously trying to fill the emptiness in the conversation. “So make sure you have your robe on if you step out there after your shower!”
I shot her a look. Was she not even listening to what she was saying?
“Well, Juliet,” my mother inserted with her usual delicacy, “I’m sure we’ll take that into consideration. And since you and I share a room, you can remind me.”
Really, Juliet.
“So ...” I attempted to rescue the situation. “The rest of our gang seems to be arriving.”
Alex and her family arrived, and I paid particular attention to how they greeted Russ and how they assessed my mother’s makeover. Of course, they are the nicest people ever so they didn’t show any shock or amazement.
“Look, they’re doing the Electric Slide!” Alex grabbed Cam and pulled him to join the group of dancers lined up in front of the small stage on the deck. Juliet lost no time kicking off her sandals and scampering right after them. The three jumped immediately to the front of the group and fell right into step, laughing and making new friends. The music stopped, and the smiling crew member leading the dance began to teach the steps to the next dance. After the new song started, she came over to recruit more of us. Her jet-black hair fell down her back in a thick braid, and her name tag improbably identified her as Neil.
“Let’s go, Celia,” said Anthony, with his hands on her hips. “We can’t let little sister have all the fun!”
“And you?” the crew member asked me in a Down Under accent. “You look like you’d like to dance, mate.”
“Just sitting this one out ... Neil?”
“It’s Cornelia, actually, but I grew up mostly around boys, so I wouldn’t have lasted long with a girly name.”
“Was that in Australia?”
“Bite your tongue! I’m a Kiwi from New Zealand through and through, and don’t forget that,” she laughed and went to the next group of people to recruit more dancers.
Damian moved to the railing where I was leaning and scooted himself beside me.
“Keir, I sense something is troubling you,” he said.
“Oh, not really,” I stared ahead.
“I’ve known you a long time, little sis, so please share with me,” he said.
“Well,” I paused, then turned toward him and couldn’t help spilling it all out.
“Don’t you guys see that my mother is dating someone practically young enough to be her son? And look at how she’s dressing! What? What are you smiling at?”
“Keira,” he began patiently. “I do know that Russ is younger than your mother, only because Alexandria told us. But honestly if there’s more than about six years there, I’d be shocked. Besides, what are you worried about?”
“What?” I began and noticed heads turning at my volume, so I took it down a notch. “I mean ‘what?’ I don’t want people to think my mother is a cougar.”
“Keira, please don’t use that term. It’s not very kind.” He drew me closer to him. “NO one who knows your mother would think that. As for her wardrobe, she’s an amazingly classy lady, no matter what she wears. What could be wrong with that?”
“Well. Um.” I really didn’t have an answer. I looked at my mother, trying to see her through a stranger’s eyes. And I actually saw an attractive older woman with an age-appropriate hairstyle and an age-appropriate outfit. The more I thought about it, I wondered why I hadn’t helped her modernize her look myself.
“And stop right there,” Damian said. “I know you’re feeling guilty that YOU didn’t help your mother with a makeover.”
“Actually, yes, why didn’t I? Do you realize how many shopping expeditions your sister and I have had since my father died?”
Damian shook his head. “She just wasn’t ready for a change until now, for whatever reason. Instead of beating yourself up over it, why don’t you embrace the change and help her now?”
Hmm. I didn’t think about it that way. As a matter of fact, her haircut was cute, but I think the colorist and stylist that Alex and I frequented would probably be a step up.
“Damian,” I finally said. “You’re the best.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said with true modesty. “But listen, I’ll be sharing a room with Russ this week, remember? If I discover anything that is worth worrying about, I’ll let you know.”
“What do you mean?” My senses were back on alert. “What could you discover?”
“Oh, that he sleeps with a childhood teddy bear. Or that he is attempting to contact aliens in his spare time,” Damian teased.
“You!” I punched his shoulder. “How can you be so wise one minute and so exasperating the next?”
“It’s a gift, sister, it’s a gift. Now listen, there’s the whistle to call us all to our mustering station to show us what to do in case of emergency. We’d better get there early, because with all of this gang going to the same mustering station, at least one of us needs to be standin
g close to the front and paying attention.”
“Too true.”
We had barely taken two steps when a tall man dressed in typical cruise attire for the crew—navy blazer with crisp khakis—stopped us.
“Are you Keira Graham?” he asked seriously.
I was not sure I liked his tone.
“Who is asking?” my natural defenses responded.
He stepped backward, obviously not accustomed to people questioning him. After a beat, his face broke into what can only be described as a practiced dazzling smile that reached all the way to his sapphire eyes.
“Sorry. Let me start again. I’m looking for Keira Graham.” Was his tone a bit too polished? “Might you be her?”
“Again,” I started. “Who’s asking?”
“Keir ...” Damian shook his head from behind the stranger, who whipped around.
“Maybe I’ll have more luck with you. I’m looking for Keira Graham. Who should be able to direct me to someone traveling in her group?” He glanced at the paper in his hand. “Father Damian D’Agostino.”
Damian’s eyes widened.
“What? Why are you looking for me?”
Chapter Six
I crossed my arms and tilted my head in a smirk. Ha! Not so funny when a stranger is looking for you, is it Damian? I only regretted that the others had already moved on.
“Are you Father Damian?” Damian was not in his clerical collar, so it was understandable that this man was confused.
The stranger was as tall as Damian with a slightly more athletic build, and his stylishly tousled brown locks with just a hint of blond made an interesting contrast to Damian’s own dark curls.
“Well, yes, but—”
“Fantastic.” The man grinned. “The purser said that you identified yourself as a Catholic priest. Because the cruise line doesn’t assure that priests are on board every cruise, when we discover one who has identified himself, we ask if he would be willing to say daily Mass. We generally have many passengers on each cruise who would like that.”
“Certainly,” said Damian, without hesitation. “Just tell me where. How will we arrange for the necessities? How—”
“Show up at the purser’s office after mustering and ask for me.” He handed Damian a card. “We’ll get this sorted out. As I said, we are prepared to do this if we find a priest and are thrilled when we do find one,” said the man as he prepared to move on to his next task.
“Wait a minute,” I jumped in, grabbing the card from Damian. “Just who are you? And how did you know I was me?”
“Oh, simple,” grinned the man over his shoulder. “You and I need to meet anyway later this evening. I was told to look for the regal, ice-cool, stunning, green-eyed blonde who looks like she’ll snap your head off.”
“What? Why would we need to meet?” And who gave that description?
“I have to go. We’ll speak later about the event you’re managing. I’m your boss this week. I’m Brennan McAllister, the cruise director.”
I managed to make it through the entire mustering process, learning how to manipulate a life vest and how to arrive at the correct lifeboat in case of an emergency, all without making one comment about the weird encounter. But the words of Brennan McAllister kept ringing in my head: “regal, ice-cool, stunning green-eyed blonde.”
How was it that these words could strike such a nerve? Admittedly, being called stunning was a tremendous compliment, but other than Alex, who called me Princess, no one had made a joke about me being regal in a long time—since college, in fact. Who was this Brennan McAllister anyway?
“What is up with you?” whispered Juliet, standing next to me during the mustering process. I shook off her inquiry, knowing that if I attempted to explain that bizarre encounter, it would engender many more whispers from the entire gang.
When the horn blew to break us up, I made a mad dash for the room assigned for meeting with the chefs, secure in the knowledge that the rest of the family would spread out to random activities until meeting up for dinner at our large appointed table. I was not prepared to share the details of that odd meeting until I had time to process it.
In the room, I had intended to take comfort in the routine of work by busying myself with a review of the week’s agenda before the meeting started, but Juliet caught up with me almost as soon as I’d sat down.
“Give it, Keir. Why did you arrive at muster looking like you had just been to the principal’s office?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” I kept my eyes down and focused on my iPad.
“Hey! Don’t forget that I share a tiny, tiny office with you on a weekly basis!” She crossed her arms. “Don’t make me go get your mother!”
My head shot up.
“All right.” I glanced at my watch. “But we only have a few minutes, so just the details.”
I shared the bizarre conversation and tried to describe the person who had identified himself as our new boss.
“Weird,” she said. “I mean, I get him looking for Father Damian, but what a bizarre way to go about it.”
“I know, right?”
“Although I guess the way he identified you was pretty spot-on—”
“What!” I glared at her and pulled myself to my full height. “Exactly what gave that away to him, if one might ask?”
“That!” Juliet pointed at me. “That’s the whole regal thing you have going on.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but it was true. There was my nickname coming back to haunt me again. But somehow it sounded different coming from him!
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it, Princess,” began Juliet. I wadded up a piece of paper and threw it at her. “I’d be more worried about what the definition of boss is. Does that mean he is suddenly in charge of our project?”
At that moment, our food bloggers and chefs started to stream into the room, claiming seats and chatting with one another. Some of the chefs were professionals who had been on the scene for a long time and either had their own restaurants or were well-known for working in popular eateries all over the country. Some were new to the restaurant world. We had everyone from chefs trained at Le Cordon Bleu to homegrown foodies who had a lot to write about. Most of them had cookbooks that had already been published or were being released in the very near future. We tried to recruit a variety of styles and cuisines to give the attendees the maximum experience.
Alex arrived with her usual bouncy energy and managed to greet every single one of them in the space of moments.
I began the meeting and explained the week’s agenda. The demos would run every day, whether the ship was in port or at sea. Since those attending the conference were all dedicated foodies, they clamored for this type of activity and would gladly fit it in with their fun in the sun.
“Each of you is assigned to one of two rooms fully equipped with the items you requested for your assigned time and class. The ship’s crew will manage the switchover between classes. I suggest that you show up early to make sure you have everything you need and are prepped.”
“How many students are signed up for each class?” asked Arless Schneider, who specialized in gluten-free recipes.
“Don’t worry, we’ll bring in ringers if no one wants to see your presentation,” yelled Roland Branshon good-naturedly from the back of the room. The crowd laughed. Arless and Roland had competed in a cook-off on a local morning show in their home city recently, and Roland had come out the winner.
“No one has to worry,” I laughed. “Every class will be filled to capacity. Almost as soon as we posted this cruise on the website, it sold out.”
“How will we know if someone is registered for our specific demonstration?” asked one of the bloggers.
“When they made reservations with us for the seminar and paid, they were each sent a packet containing, among other things, a name badge along with their personalized schedule so that they wouldn’t have to register again when they got here,” I said. “Each of you has y
our class roster in your packet, and you just need to match the name badges to the roster as the attendees arrive. They’ve already given us permission to share their contact information with you. We’ll distribute that after the event, so you don’t need to collect any of that information. We recommend that you have whoever is stationed at your book sales table do the checking in right at that table. All of this is written on your Important Facts Sheet.” I pulled out that sheet and pointed to it.
We continued with other practical questions and answers, and then someone asked, “I see that Alexandria isn’t in one of the two rooms, but is booked in a theater for her demo. How’d she get that?”
There it was. I had been hoping that no one felt I’d played favorites with Ali and was prepared for a discussion about that perception, but I didn’t need to worry. Roland immediately jumped back in:
“Hey, you get booked on Iron Chef with Bobby Flay, and you get to play the big room next time,” he interjected.
The room cheered and applauded, and Alex stood up and struck the iconic Iron Chef pose.
“Okay. This will be our last meeting as a full group,” I said. “Just remember if you need me for anything, my stateroom office is listed on your Important Facts Sheet. Even though most of you have given up your cell phones for the voyage, Juliet and I have not, and you can have either of us paged anytime at the numbers on your sheet. Anything you need, you let me know. I’ll be bouncing from demo to demo during the day, so I should be easy to find.”
“And if you can’t find her, please look for me,” came a vaguely familiar voice from the back of the room. Heads swiveled.
Brennan McAllister jumped from his perch on a table on the back of the room and made his way to the front, shaking hands along the way like a politician stumping for votes.
I could see the women eyeing him appreciatively as he moved through the group. He had changed from his formal Cruise Director togs into a stylish pair of jeans and a polo jersey with the ship’s logo over the breast. Did he only take the job with this cruise line because their signature blue color matched his eyes?
Love on the Lido Deck Page 5
