Page 36 of Hearts Aweigh

G OSSAMER CLOUDS RACED ABOVE E MILY ’ S head. The white puffs scurried through the bright blue sky as if they were late for an appointment. A gust hit her, and she clutched her cardigan tighter around her body.

“There’s a change in the wind. A storm’s brewing somewhere.”

She sat with her three friends at a table on the lido deck. They observed the passengers frolicking with all the excitement of their first day at sea. The chilly breeze did nothing to deter the tan-seeking sunbathers stretched out on the deck chairs.

Gerry ignored the festivities in favor of a new book, Althea offered her phone to Daisy with the latest pictures of her grandchildren, and Emily made mental notes of the people around her.

She drummed her fingers on the wooden tabletop. “We missed the new crop boarding.”

Gerry droned from behind her novel. “You were the one who wanted to choose new candidates for Abby O’Brien.”

“Yes, but I didn’t expect it to take five hours.”

“I agree,” Daisy said. “The strategy meeting lasted much too long.”

Althea slipped her phone in her sparkly red fanny pack. “Who knew our first two candidates would go so horribly wrong? Are we losing our touch?”

“Don’t be silly.” Emily bristled at the suggestion. “Unforeseen factors affected our results. Abby spent an inordinate amount of time with Daisy’s son and granddaughter. Perhaps things would’ve gone smoother with her and the minister if she’d been able to focus.”

Althea shook her head. “There was no chemistry with the preacher. Now Abby and Spencer”—she elbowed Daisy—“they could’ve lit the lido deck with their sparks.”

“Yes,” Emily said. “It’s a shame.”

Daisy twisted in her seat. “Y’all must imagine me a horrible mother, but I did what was best for both of them. Too many obstacles stood in the way. And there wasn’t enough time for the two to form a genuine attachment. It wasn’t meant to be.”

Althea bobbed in her chair and hooted. “Sometimes the Good Lawd surprises us.” She pointed at someone approaching their table.

Everyone’s head followed the direction of her finger.

Even Gerry lowered her book. Spencer strode through the crowd, carrying a small white box.

Although he wore less formal attire than the last time they’d seen him, his ruler-straight posture and tall, commanding presence made him stand out like a racehorse in a herd of Shetland ponies.

“Heaven help me,” Daisy murmured. She scrambled in her purse, withdrew a pair of square sunglasses, and slipped them on. Her fingers fluttered around her hair, and she rearranged her skirt.

Spencer stopped at their table, and Emily clocked the cautious set of his mouth. His face, while not unpleasant, wasn’t exactly friendly. More like wary.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” His gaze rested on his mother. “Daisy, good to see you again.”

“I admit, I’m bewildered,” she said. “Didn’t you leave?”

“We took advantage of turnaround day to go shopping. I purchased vacation clothes for myself and Madeleine. And something for you too.” He set the box on the table in front of Daisy.

She raised the lid to reveal the latest cell phone model in a pearly-white color. An exasperated sigh left her lips. “I thought I made it clear I don’t want a phone.”

“It’s for emergencies”—he clasped his hands behind his back—“if you ever need to get a hold of me. Or perhaps you might want to talk to Madeleine. The rest of the time, you can leave it in your suitcase.”

Althea bumped her. “Not a bad idea.”

Daisy replaced the lid but didn’t give the phone back. “Why didn’t y’all return to Louisiana?”

Spencer spread his arms wide. “I decided another voyage might do Madeleine and me both good.”

“Where is she?”

“I’ve left her with Ms. O’Brien.”

Emily’s ears perked. “You’ve already seen Abby?”

“Yes, Monarch has assigned her as my daughter’s nanny valet again.”

“What a coincidence.” She exchanged a knowing look with Gerry.

“On the contrary, I requested her. Abby proved herself more than capable on our last cruise. She’ll do an excellent job if you four will do me a favor.”

“A favor?” Emily’s eyes narrowed.

Daisy pushed her shades down an inch. “You never require help from anyone.”

“A favor from all of us?” Althea leaned forward. “How fun. What can we do for you, baby?”

He widened his stance and folded his arms. “Please postpone arranging dates for Abby.”

“Why?” Emily cocked her head.

“Because it’s inconvenient whenever she leaves to meet some guy.”

“‘Inconvenient’?” Emily smirked.

“‘Some guy’?” Althea wore an identical expression.

Gerry took his measure. “Sounds like someone’s jealous.”

He should have known better than to bring up their matchmaking. Somehow these Shippers always managed to twist things in a disconcerting direction.

“‘Jealous’?” Spencer spat out the word. “You’re mistaken, ma’am.”

“Gerry,” she reminded him. “And if you’re not jealous, then this request is high-handed and unreasonable. You have no control over Abby’s love life.”

“I’m not trying to control her.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “My interest in Ms. O’Brien is solely as an employer. After Madeleine and I leave the ship, she can date whoever she pleases.”

“Now it’s Ms. O’Brien,” Althea said to Emily.

“He’s distancing himself.” She nodded. “People do that when they’re uncomfortable.”

“Or lying.” Gerry scowled.

“Ladies.” Daisy tapped her manicured fingers. “Please don’t pester him. I’ve already told you my son is a poor match for Abby.”

“Yes. Thank you, Daisy. I’m a—wait a minute. Poor match?” Spencer waved his hand down his long torso. “In what way am I lacking? I’m handsome, well-educated, wealthy—”

“Humble,” Gerry inserted.

Spencer lifted his chin. “There’s no flaw in giving an honest evaluation of your qualifications.”

“If you’re laying out your qualifications, you must be interested.” Emily opened a three-ring binder. “Shall I add your name to the candidate list?”

“What? No.” He had to be careful around these loony old women. Who knew what crazy schemes they might concoct? “I was merely reacting to my mother’s word choice, not offering myself as another player in your matchmaking game.”

“‘Game’?” Emily flipped the binder shut. “I see what you mean, Daisy. There’s no sense wasting our time.”

“As I said.” His mother took a tube of lotion from her handbag and squeezed a dab onto her fingers. She applied the liquid to the minuscule creases near her mouth.

Spencer gritted his teeth. “Abby would count her blessings to marry a man like me.”

“Oh, marriage?” Emily reopened the binder. “If you have something long-term in mind, I’m willing to reconsider.”

Althea smiled. “You’ve got my vote, baby.”

“Hold it.” A trickle of sweat dripped from Spencer’s neck to his suddenly tight collar. “Marriage isn’t an option. I’ve already tried the institution once, and it didn’t suit.”

“Surely you’re not suggesting shacking up together.” Gerry’s eyebrows formed a hairy frown of disapproval.

“Of course not. I am saying in a forthright and unequivocal manner that I never plan to get married again—especially not to Abigail O’Brien.”

“No one was offering.” A new voice joined the conversation.

A female voice.

An angry voice.