Page 1 of Hearts Aweigh
M AYDAY . M AYDAY . M AYDAY.
Emily Windsor’s seventy-eight-year-old bones sounded a silent warning.
She twisted an empty butterscotch wrapper in her wrinkled fingers and tried to pinpoint the problem.
Her mission in life was finding lonely people a love as sweet as her own had been.
She should be chomping at the bit to have a ready and willing candidate.
But this case seemed a little too … what was the word?
Easy.
A petite figure sat in a padded chair a short distance away. The pretty redheaded woman picked at the gold lace edge of her lavender ball gown. A lopsided tiara sparkled atop her curly locks.
Emily shoved the wrapper in her pocket and combed a hand through her own unruly mop of gray hair. “I’m sorry, dear. We’ll get started soon.”
Geraldine Paroo’s five-foot-ten frame filled the chair beside her. The retired librarian raised a red pen, crossed through a word in her paperback novel, and straightened the cat-eye spectacles on her nose, more than content to read as they waited for the others.
The ladies faced their new protégé from one side of a long table like a reality show’s judging panel.
A harried waitress zipped through the MS Buckingham ’s elaborate dining room with a freshly laundered pile of tablecloths.
She cast them a confused look but said nothing.
A shout from the pier below drew Emily’s attention to the windows.
They had mere minutes before a fussy crew member demanded they vacate the ship for zero count.
All passengers must be off before the new cruise guests started loading.
No time to waste. But two of the Shippers were missing.
Emily reached under her chair and tugged a walkie-talkie from her large black purse. Static crackled as she pressed the button. “Daisy, have you found Althea yet?”
“Coming,” a breathless Southern drawl answered. “We’re outside the dining room.”
The ornamental wooden doors to their left opened, and fashionable Daisy entered in a black silk blouse and matching skirt. Her chin-length silver hair swung as she towed her smiling roommate, Althea, behind her.
“Sorry, y’all.” Althea scrunched her smooth Creole skin into an apologetic grimace. Her generous hips swayed. “I got waylaid by the first mate. Peter kept trying to escort me off the ship.”
“Never mind that.” Emily waved her over. “Our client is waiting.”
Daisy hurried to a seat at the opposite end of the table from Gerry, but Althea swerved and headed for the young woman.
“Just let me grab a hug from our Abby-girl.” She squeezed the redhead so tight the tiara slipped onto the young woman’s forehead.
Abigail O’Brien adjusted her crown. Her lips parted in a lighthearted smile.
“I don’t normally dress this fancy for an interview, but I have to greet the children in a few minutes.
” She brushed her hands down her lap. “Thank you for considering me. Getting help from our ship’s famous matchmakers is a real honor. ”
Althea huffed as she made her way to sit in the middle beside Daisy. “I don’t understand why we’re doing this. We’ve never interviewed anyone before. Let’s cut the fuss and get to the romance.”
“I must admit”—Daisy folded her hands in her lap—“I also don’t see the need for a formal inquiry. Why must we go to all this trouble?”
Gerry grumbled. “I was hoping to write another chapter in my novel before we deboarded. Is this really necessary?”
Emily remained silent because she didn’t have an answer.
This meeting was a last-ditch attempt to shush her cantankerous bones.
The charming young woman in front of them was not only willing but asking for assistance.
After setting up multiple uncooperative couples, Emily should count it a blessing to have someone enlist their services.
Am I being contrary, Lord? You deposited this precious child in our laps. I should be raising the sails, not dropping anchor. What’s the matter with me?
No voice from heaven, angelic choir, or burning bush answered. Even a gentle whisper would’ve been sufficient. Emily tapped her thumb against the table. She didn’t care for the silent treatment.
Abby zeroed in on the head Shipper’s agitated thumb. She didn’t know them well, but these ladies used to like her. Had something changed their minds?
The silver-haired tribunal stared her down. She averted her gaze from the long table of senior citizens to the muddy brown waves of Galveston Bay outside the windows. Why had she assumed they’d jump at the chance to orchestrate her happily-ever-after?
“What makes you think we can help you?” Gangly Gerry at the end thumped her polished black oxford on the floor like she was marking the seconds it took their examinee to answer.
Abby fidgeted. The cruise ship’s dining room waited in all its pristine glory for the new passengers making their way through security.
No one should be in here less than an hour before boarding time.
But nothing deterred these four women. This boat was their home, and even the captain quailed at telling them no.
Abby gulped. “You … you’re the Shippers. Experts at relationships. If anyone is lacking in the romance department, you ladies are the ones to call. Everyone knows that.”
“Oh mercy.” The dainty Daisy on the opposite end pushed a glossy silver lock of hair behind her ear. Her soft-spoken tone hearkened back to humid summer nights and sweet tea on the veranda. “Our work is supposed to be a secret. Did you say everyone knows?”
“Maybe not everyone. Just”—Abby tilted her head—“most people employed on the MS Buckingham . You ladies reconciled our last cruise director with his long-lost sweetheart and even caught a rogue detective smuggling cocaine into the States. It’s hard to keep that kind of success under wraps.”
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 our intentions.” 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 if somebody hadn’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.”