Page 33 of Hearts Aweigh
C LAMOR FILLED THE MAIN LOBBY from one end to the other. Suitcase wheels rattled against the marble floor. Passengers hollered and laughed and complained on their way to the Galveston pier gangplank and a return to normal life.
Abby sat on a couch with her young charge beside her. Maddie gaped with wide-eyed interest at the swirl of passing people. The little girl seemed unaware that these were their last moments together.
Where had the final three days gone? A sharp, unpleasant sensation hit Abby.
Almost distress. But she pushed it away.
Saying goodbye was part of her job. She may have grown more attached to Maddie because of the extra hours they’d spent together, but she’d get over it soon.
There’d be more children on the next voyage to take her place.
“Pink!” Maddie grabbed Abby’s arm and pointed at a woman exiting the elevator with a large sun hat.
Abby faked a disgruntled expression. “Another one? Why are there so many more pink hats than green ones? I picked the wrong color.”
“I’m beating you.”
Maddie’s merry giggle caused an agitated pulse in Abby’s brain.
No matter how special the new group of kids, they couldn’t take this girl’s place.
Abby had babysat enough young passengers and taught in enough classrooms to admit the truth.
This was different. Certain children claimed a room in a person’s heart and lived there.
Regardless of how much time passed, Abby knew she’d never forget Madeleine Masterson.
Or her handsome father.
Abby glanced at the nearby table where Mr. Masterson talked with his mother. Both sat with rigid spines, hardly a picture of familial harmony. The two stood and made their way over.
Daisy bent to her granddaughter and smoothed the girl’s hair. “I was so happy to see you, Madeleine. Please visit me again soon.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Maddie nodded.
Daisy straightened, brushed both hands down the front of her black dress, and faced her son. “Spencer, it was good of you to visit. Please take care of yourself.” With eyes averted and chin raised, she left them.
Spencer motioned to someone at the side, and the fully recovered governess joined them in her starched white shirt and wrinkle-free gray skirt. Not a hint of weakness remained.
“Ms. Blanchet,” he said. “Can you please take Madeleine to the dock? I’ll join you shortly.”
“It’ll be a pleasure to set foot on dry land again, sir.” She helped Maddie off the couch.
“Wait!” Abby knelt on the ground. Tears clouded her last look at the precious girl. She swallowed the ridiculous overreaction and forced a bright smile. “I loved meeting you, Princess Maddie. I hope we can play together again sometime.”
Maddie’s lips turned down, and she blinked. “You’re not coming with us?”
“I’m sorry. I have to stay here on the ship. But I’ll miss you.” Abby wrapped her in a hug and squeezed tight. The child’s arms looped around her neck.
Ms. Blanchet checked her phone. “Let’s go. The chauffeur is waiting.” She prodded Madeleine away.
Cold air rushed to fill the empty void in Abby’s arms. She drew a wavery breath and got to her feet. The somber governess led her charge to the exit. Maddie glanced over her shoulder with watery eyes before she disappeared. Mr. Masterson waited with something in his hand.
“Ms. O’Brien”—Spencer offered a white envelope—“your help was invaluable during the voyage. I’ve made sure to reflect my appreciation in your tip.”
Abby’s nostrils flared.
Her tip? He was treating her like …
Like what? An employee? That’s what she was. If she’d expected anything more, she was the one in the wrong.
She took the envelope and fingered the flap. The evidence of his generosity bulged inside the paper. Would it be improper to slip the bills out and throw them in his courteous, unsmiling kisser?
Yes. Of course it would.
Abby extended her hand and gave him her best professional smile, the one she used at parent-teacher conferences. “Thank you, sir. I hope you enjoyed your voyage. Please choose Monarch Cruises again in the future.”
His large fingers covered her own in a warm grip, and the corner of his lips lifted in an amused grin she didn’t appreciate. “You can be sure I will.” He released her. “Until we meet again, Ms. O’Brien.”
Spencer strode off, his tall figure drawing interested peeks from more than one woman as he passed.
Not once did he turn around. Clutching the envelope, Abby watched until he was out of sight.
The urge to chuck it in the nearest trash can hit, but she resisted.
What was wrong with accepting a tip for a job well done?
A job.
She mustn’t get attached to her charges. It hurt too much when they inevitably left. She’d use the money to buy a new dress and wear it on the next date the Shippers arranged.
Love. Marriage. Babies of her own.
That’s what she should concentrate on.
Emily sat between Gerry and Althea on a long couch near the entrance. They allowed the drama to play out without interfering. Abby wandered through the room. The hand not holding the envelope swiped at her eyes as she disappeared down the hallway.
In the opposite direction, Daisy rambled aimlessly near the reception desk. A man spun too quickly and bumped her. She stumbled to the side but accepted his apologies with a distracted dip of her head.
Gerry sighed. “Poor Daisy.”
Althea pursed her lips. “Our girl is going to be lower than a doorstop after this.”
“Can you blame her?” Emily said. “Who says goodbye to his mother like she’s one of his clients?”
“In Spencer’s defense”—Gerry withdrew her spectacles from a pocket—“Daisy wasn’t very motherly herself. Maybe the Masterson clan does it different. Some families aren’t huggers.”
“Forget hugging.” Althea snorted. “He didn’t so much as pat her on the shoulder. If my son acted that way, I’d spank the living daylights out of him.”
Gerry murmured her agreement.
Emily tapped her foot in an exasperated tattoo.
Spencer irked her to no end. He’d bid an apathetic goodbye to his mother and shook hands with the woman who …
who what? Emily had never found the right label for the closed-off man’s emotions.
He was attracted to Abby. Of that, there was no doubt.
Telltale signs of jealousy abounded on more than one occasion.
But Emily was sure it went deeper. A soul connection.
Like he recognized something in Abby that was missing in himself. Yet he’d walked away after a handshake.
“Baby, please.” Althea snagged Emily’s vibrating knee. “You’re about to beat a hole through the floor.”
“Sorry.” Emily laced her fingers together and eyed the decorative ceiling. Paintings of cherubs cavorting among the clouds stretched overhead. “The Lord moves in mysterious ways, but this time he’s got me flummoxed. I can’t spot him working at all.”
“What a relief he doesn’t need your approval.” Gerry polished her glasses against her sleeve.
Althea nodded. “Faith is for when we don’t understand God’s plan. Sometimes we have to walk in the dark awhile and hold tight to his hand.” She poked Emily. “I know that’s hard for a micromanager.”
Emily could admit she liked things her way, but there was one lesson she’d mastered in her seventy-eight years. If her plan didn’t coincide with God’s, she’d better get a new one.
Yes. She’d learned her lesson the hard way. But that didn’t make surrendering control any easier.