Page 4 of Hearts Aweigh

S PENCER APPRAISED HIS LONG-ABSENT progenitor. She didn’t appear any the worse for wear. On the contrary, her cheeks lacked the gaunt pallor he’d noted the last time they’d met.

One year and six months ago. At his father’s funeral.

The woman standing in his way moved to a nearby chair.

“Mother?” The full-figured woman beside his parent sat forward. “Is this your son, Daisy?”

“Yes, I … he … this is my son, Spencer Randolph Masterson.” Daisy lifted a trembling hand his direction.

“He’s a young thing. You must have had him late.”

“I was in my forties.”

The stranger shuddered. “I bet that hurt. But what a good-looking boy you produced.” She popped off the couch and grabbed his waist. “Hello, baby. Give me some sugar.” She bussed his cheek with her wide lips. “Any child of Daisy’s is a child of mine.”

Spencer leaned away. Who was this woman? And what relation did she have with his mother?

She laughed. “You act just like your momma used to. Guess I’ll have to train you too. It’s good to see family.”

His real family remained on the sofa, her posture as stiff as the spine of a law book. They had never been close, but maybe Madeleine would be the much-needed catalyst that brought them together.

“Did your wife come with you?” Daisy asked.

“I no longer have a wife. We’ve finalized our divorce.”

“Bless your heart”—the lady still holding him patted his back—“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Daisy looked anything but sorry. Relieved, in fact. “What are you doing here?”

Spencer disengaged himself from the overly affectionate woman. “I was worried about you. You vanished after the funeral, and no one has seen you since.”

“How long did it take you to notice I was missing?” Her delicate eyebrows rose.

Spencer gritted his teeth. Did she have to paint him as an unfeeling robot?

Of course he’d known his mother was on an extended holiday.

He’d checked with her housekeeper more than once since Daisy had taken off.

But starting an argument wasn’t the most amicable way to begin a reconciliation.

Safer to change the subject. “I’ve been aware of your lengthy vacation for a while.

Don’t you think it’s time to come home?”

The hugger settled on the couch again, as if she had a say in the conversation.

“Home?” Daisy scoffed. “And where would that be?”

“In New Orleans. With your friends and family.”

“I have both right here on this ship.”

“That’s right, baby.” The woman beside his mother wrapped an arm around her. “We take good care of your momma.”

“I beg your pardon.” Spencer glowered. “Who exactly are you?”

“Althea Jones.” She held out her hand. “I’m your mother’s roommate. We share a cabin.”

“You … you share?” He made no move to take her hand as he laughed at the absurd notion. Daisy Randolph Masterson, the woman who reserved two seats in first class on a commercial flight because she didn’t want to risk sitting by a talker, was sharing a cabin with this woman.

A cabin ?

“It’s cheaper with two in a room,” the newly introduced Althea said. “She and I can stretch our dollars further. Between the four of us, we manage to save our pennies on the extras.”

“I’m sorry. The four of you?” Had his mother gotten involved in some crazy cult?

“We wondered when you’d introduce us.” A voice spoke behind him.

Two older women watched from the seats nearby. The tall one grasped an open novel.

The other lady with the frizzy hair, who’d blocked his way, gave him a once-over and shook her head. “I’m afraid we’re going to have trouble with this one.”

Three unfriendly faces and the still-smiling Althea stared at him. He hadn’t expected his mother to have bodyguards.

The noise level increased as a new wave of passengers walked through the doors. Bodies filled the lobby. Staff members in pristine white uniforms with purple accents rushed to assist them.

“Excuse me, sir.” Ms. Blanchet joined him with her young charge. “We’ve finished in the restroom.”

Madeleine! He’d forgotten her again. No one would be nominating him for father of the year.

“Can we wait for you in the suite?” the caregiver asked. “It’s getting crowded here.”

Daisy’s attention fixed on the little girl. Her brow wrinkled, and she leaned forward slightly. Did she recognize her granddaughter? Madeleine had been three when they’d last met.

His daughter’s hand rested on her stomach. Was she still hungry? Had the granola bar been enough? Spencer opened his mouth to ask, but a cheerful greeting stopped him.

“Welcome to the MS Buckingham .” The redhead from the pier approached their group.

She still wore the billowing purple ball gown and carried a basket piled with gold crowns and rhinestone-studded tiaras.

She retrieved one, set her basket on the floor, and crouched at eye level with his daughter.

“Hello again. Is this your first time sailing?”

Madeleine’s head bobbed. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh my. You have such lovely manners. Are you nervous?”

Another nod.

“I have just the thing.” The woman extended the golden tiara with both hands. “This is a courage crown. Any girl who feels a bit scared can place it on her head, and her bravery rises. Would you care to try?”

A third nod.

The employee set the crown gently on top of Madeleine with all the solemnity of an actual coronation and clasped her hands to her chest. “You look like a princess!”

His daughter grinned. Spencer couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her so happy. This woman had a way about her.

The child whisperer adjusted the tiara. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Madeleine.”

“Madeleine!” Daisy sprang to her feet.

The little girl jumped and scooted behind the gray-skirted legs of her governess.

“Yes.” Spencer glanced at his mother. “As you may have gathered, this is your granddaughter, Madeleine Rothschild Masterson.”

The redhead craned her neck in an exaggerated arc to make eye contact with his daughter. “What a perfect name. Did you know there was a famous queen of Scotland named Madeleine?”

The child emerged from her hiding place and gave a slight shake of her head.

“She was one of the most courageous queens who ever lived.” The woman leaned forward. “Madeleine is the perfect name for a brave girl like you.”

His daughter’s full smile broke out, and Spencer’s heart cracked. He contemplated the person who’d caused the miracle, and her answering smile beamed.

Who was this woman?

Abby possessed a certain talent. A gift.

Something that came in handy in her line of work.

She could read a child in ten seconds. A quirk of the eyebrow or curl of the lip alerted her to troublemakers.

And an overly innocent appearance or sweet-as-sugar simper didn’t hide a bully’s intentions. But this little girl …

This little girl broke her heart.

She was dressed in expensive pink lace, and a gold locket with a diamond bigger than most engagement rings dangled from her neck. She obviously lacked nothing material. Yet her anxious eyes told Abby she was missing all the important things that made a child feel loved and at ease.

Abby took stock of the gentleman beside her. “Is this your father?”

Madeleine paused, then nodded.

Abby observed the man. Her talent for reading people didn’t extend to adults.

Once a person passed into maturity, they grew better at hiding themselves.

His suit was out of place in this festive environment, and his handsome face gave nothing away.

Two dark, almost black eyes returned her scrutiny.

But he didn’t look cruel. Cold and reserved, yes. But not a monster.

Abby rose from her crouched position. “I’m Abigail O’Brien, a member of the childcare team. Have you enrolled Madeleine in our day care service? We offer many different activities.”

“There’s no need. I’ve brought a governess to care for her.”

Sourpuss. The thought came unbidden to Abby’s mind. She wasn’t sure if she meant the dad or the nanny. It applied to both.

“I see.” Abby spotted another young girl entering the lobby and slipped a fresh tiara from her basket. “If you change your mind, she’s always welcome.” She tapped his daughter’s nose. “Glad I got to meet you, Madeleine. I hope to see you again.”

“Bye.” The child waved with her hand held close to her body.

Abby waggled her fingers, reclaimed her basket, and turned to leave.

“Just a minute,” the father said. It was a command, not a request.

The crowns clattered as she faced him. He stood still without saying anything. The seconds ticked, and the silence crackled between them. She fingered the rhinestones.

He finally spoke. “How much do I owe you for the tiara?”

Abby opened her mouth but closed it as her mind filtered her first response. The customer was always right. “No charge, sir.” She winked at Madeleine. “Every princess deserves a crown.”

Emily flashed her eyebrows at Gerry. It appeared finding a match for their latest client might be easier than they anticipated.

An interesting marriage prospect had presented himself in short order.

Daisy’s divorced son, no less. Their fellow Shipper could fill in the required information sheet and save them the trouble of a background check.

Thanks for minimizing the paperwork, Lord!

Spencer Masterson cut a striking figure. His honed physique filled out his tailored suit like a modern-day Cary Grant. The prepossessing visitor refocused from the departing Abby to his mother. But Daisy’s attention was glued to her grandchild.

“Madeleine.” Her voice cracked.

Her son adjusted the pristine cuff of his dress shirt. “For heaven’s sake, don’t make a scene.”

Daisy’s body tightened. She elevated her chin the slightest bit and pointed dry eyes at him.

“You remind me of your father. I can’t recall how many times he admonished me with those exact words.

I admit it’s difficult to compose myself when the granddaughter I’ve met only three times stands before me, but I’ll do my best.”