Page 54 of Hearts Aweigh

“S O MUCH FOR YOUR BONES. ” Althea stretched on a chaise lounge and tilted her face to the late-afternoon sky.

Emily disregarded the comment because she had no comeback.

She’d been certain they’d find answers in the chapel last night, but it was calmer than a post office on Christmas Day.

They’d examined every inch of the picturesque room with its short wooden pews and stained-glass windows and found all of nothing.

The four Shippers sat on the sundeck near the front of the ship overlooking the helipad. A fair number of passengers milled around, taking pictures of the calm sea. A sharp gust whipped through the open area.

Daisy shuddered and wrapped a black scarf around her head. “Why are we in this wind tunnel? My hair’s getting blown to pieces.”

Gerry ignored the long strands fluttering in her own eyes and wrote in her notebook. “We never sit out here. Let’s tap into our senses and experience something new.” She inhaled. “Smell that salty air.”

“The ship’s been at a standstill for the better part of an hour.” Emily drummed her fingers against her chair’s armrest. “If we don’t get a move on soon, we’ll be late to the next port. I wonder what the holdup is.”

A different drumming sound drew her attention to the sky. A helicopter appeared in the distance, heading straight for the MS Buckingham . “Gerry, you got your wish. Something new is on its way.”

The Shippers stood and hurried to the railing.

Passengers crowded around, phones raised, recording everything.

The helicopter drew closer and hovered over the bow of the ship.

Its blades spun in a blurry circle. A light flickered on the tail.

The body lowered, aligning itself to the large green circle with the white H .

It dropped by degrees, rocking in the gusty wind.

When the spindly legs finally thumped to the ground, cheers filled the air.

“Well, I declare,” said Althea. “Do you think it’s a medical emergency?”

Gerry scribbled in her notebook. “Either that or a company bigwig who’s too important to walk the gangplank with the peons.”

A short, paunchy man in a black jumpsuit climbed from the cockpit. He withdrew two suitcases, then held open the door. A taller, feminine figure descended. On her willowy frame, the jumpsuit resembled something from a Paris runway collection.

The new arrival made her way to the side as the pilot reentered the helicopter.

A crew member in a white uniform rushed to be of assistance with the luggage.

The woman tugged her helmet from her head and propped it on her hip.

A playful ocean breeze whipped her long golden hair in a silky tumble.

She struck a pose as if she knew how many cell phone cameras were pointed straight at her.

Daisy gasped.

Althea squealed. “It’s like a scene from a movie.”

Gerry’s pencil scratched as she made furious notes. “She’d make a good heroine.”

Emily observed the unfolding drama with amusement. Fifty years as a navy wife had sucked all the romance out of helicopter landings. She was about to say as much but stopped at Daisy’s reaction. The unflappable composure so synonymous with their genteel member had been replaced by horror.

“Are you ill, dear?” Emily gripped her friend’s arm.

Daisy pressed two fingers to her temple. “She’s far from a heroine, Gerry. I’m sorry to say you are looking at my ex-daughter-in-law.”

“Where is everybody?” Spencer stood at the office door and surveyed the empty space. Had Abby taken Madeleine on an excursion? She was probably still avoiding him.

He searched the suite. Would he find them in the Kids Kingdom? Or perhaps the splash pad. As he passed the dining room table, a hand reached between the chairs and grabbed his ankle. He yelped like a surprised cartoon character. A head with curly red hair poked from under the table.

“Shhhh.” Abby pressed a finger to her lips. “Maddie will catch us.”

“Excuse me?”

She tugged at his ankle, pulling him off balance. He hunched to steady himself and met his incorrigible nanny’s face peeking at him.

“We’re playing hide-and-seek. She’s upstairs checking the bedrooms, but she may have heard you squeal.”

“I’d hardly call that a squeal. I was merely—”

“Aaaabby.” Madeleine’s voice echoed from the upper landing.

“Don’t give me away.” Abby released him and ducked into her hiding place.

“Daddy”—the pitter-patter of Maddie’s feet sounded on the stairs—“have you seen Abby?”

His daughter hopped down the last two steps and ran to his side.

Spencer noted her lopsided ponytail, the faint red stain of fruit punch on her collar, and the radiant smile.

She looked messy and carefree and adorable.

The way a child should look. And it was thanks to the woman hiding under the table.

Envy pinched him. He wished he could be the one with rumpled clothing and a happy smile, forgetting the suffocating strictures of protocol.

Madeleine eyed the table and grabbed one of the dining room chairs. It seemed hide-and-seek was coming to an end.

A brisk knock interrupted the discovery.

“Someone’s come to visit.” Spencer took Maddie with him, drawing her away from Abby’s hiding place. Might as well help her prolong the game. He reached their suite door and opened it.

A woman stood on the other side with her back to him. Tall. Stylish. Dressed in black with a large couture bag slung over her shoulder like she was shooting a commercial.

His smile faded.

His ex-wife, Priscilla Rothschild, turned with an all too familiar smirk. “Long time no see.” Her husky voice greeted him.

“Mommy!” Maddie launched forward and hugged her mother’s long legs.

Priscilla bent a fraction and patted her with one hand. “Hello, my darling. I hope you’ve missed me.” Her gaze traveled to Spencer. “Both of you.”

“What are you doing here?” His voice sounded calm despite the maelstrom swirling inside him.

“I’ve come to visit my daughter. And you too.” She tapped his chest, waited for him to move, then sailed inside. “What a charming suite, Spencer. Although I imagine the decor doesn’t fit your taste. Am I right?”

Maddie scampered close behind. “My room’s upstairs, Mommy. I—”

Priscilla laid a finger over her daughter’s lips. “The adults are speaking, darling. Don’t interrupt.” She turned to Spencer. “Has the porter delivered my things? I’m dying to freshen up.”

His unruffled demeanor evaporated. “You’re not staying here!”

A gleam entered her eye. “Where better to spend time with my precious family?”

“We’re no longer family,” he ground out. “You haven’t so much as called Madeleine since she moved to New Orleans.”

“I made sure a fabulous present was waiting at the house when you took her home.” Priscilla crouched to Maddie’s height. “Did you like the doll Mommy sent you, darling?”

Maddie nodded, adoration on her face.

“Marvelous. But …” Priscilla took stock of the little girl.

“I’m not sure what you’ve been doing to my daughter, Spencer.

” She smoothed Maddie’s disheveled hair and fingered the stained collar.

“Have you been dressing Madeleine yourself? A decent governess wouldn’t let her leave the bedroom this way. ”

Abby! Spencer’s eyes shifted to the table. In the shock of seeing his ex-wife, he’d forgotten all about the nanny. She must have heard the entire exchange.

Maddie pointed to the dining area. “My nanny is hiding.”

“Hiding?” Priscilla straightened. “Dear me, Spencer. I hope you aren’t mistreating the staff.”

Maddie skipped to the table and ducked her head to peer underneath. “Abby!” She clapped. “I found you.”

The chair legs squawked against the tile as Abby emerged. She crawled out and stood, tucking her polo shirt into the waistband of her khaki shorts. “I apologize, sir. I didn’t mean to … to intrude on family time.”

Family time ? Even during their marriage, Priscilla and he had never been a family. He might have objected, but Priscilla spoke first.

“An employee under the table.” Her laughter pealed.

“How unconventional. But I’m glad you’ve hired someone to care for our daughter on your vacation.

” Her eyes narrowed. “Her uniform tells me she must be temporary. Which explains Madeleine’s unkempt appearance.

” She flicked a dismissive hand. “Please help her tidy up, Miss—”

“O’Brien,” Abby said. “I’ll help Maddie change.”

“Maddie?” Priscilla’s lip curled. “How quaint. Yes, please help Madeleine change into a more presentable outfit.”

Maddie grabbed Abby’s hand and swung their arms back and forth as they made their way to the stairs. She giggled, not in the least concerned she was leaving her mother behind.

On closer inspection, Spencer realized the black outfit Priscilla wore was a flight suit. It suggested she’d made use of the Rothschild connections to find her way to the ship and discover his room number. “What are you doing here?”

She motioned to her apparel. “Don’t you find it the slightest bit touching I commandeered a helicopter to come see you and Madeleine?”

“I would if that were your only motive, but somehow I doubt it.”

She took in the surroundings. “I need to touch up my lipstick. Where’s the bedroom?”

He drew himself tall. “You are not staying here.”

“Don’t be so fussy. I’m just teasing you.” She tapped him on the arm. “I reserved my own suite, and let me tell you, it wasn’t easy to do at the last minute. But I want to spend time with Madeleine first. Perhaps we three can have dinner together.”

“Not until you answer me. What are you doing here?”

She stuck her right hand in a pocket. “I’m sure you’ve heard I’m running for office in New York.”

“It surprised me. Don’t you have to be a resident for five years to qualify?”

“Legally, I never transferred to Louisiana. Since I kept an apartment in New York, the state still considers me a resident. I even filed my taxes there.”

The information pricked Spencer. After all this time, it shouldn’t matter. But it did.

“That explains why you always insisted on filing separate forms. I suppose you had an exit plan from the beginning.”

A flicker of hurt, so small he almost missed it, crossed her face.

“That isn’t fair,” Priscilla murmured. “I was raised in a politician’s home. You knew it was my world. When you and I married, your father promised me your political career was in the near future.”

“Perhaps you should’ve gone to the trouble of checking with me directly.” He planted his feet, ready to enter yet another of their many disagreements. “I could have corrected the misunderstanding much sooner. I abhor politics.”

Her expression cleared. “You’re right, of course.”

Spencer paused. Their arguments usually didn’t end this amicably, especially not with Priscilla’s surrender. She never admitted defeat.

Never.

“Your capitulation surprises me,” Spencer said.

“You may be even more surprised at what I’ll say next.” She took a step closer. “I’ve missed you, Spence.”

He forced himself to stay in place, but instinct said bolt.

God, help me.

He wasn’t sure what he was asking help for. Not to let Priscilla run roughshod over him? Not to lose his temper and yell at the woman who’d caused pain to both him and his daughter?

He drew a breath before answering. “I’m sure it will pass once your campaign starts in earnest. Work was always more important to you.”

“There’s no denying I’m driven.” She assessed him in her blunt way. “I’ll even admit a happily married candidate is far more attractive to the voter than a single, divorced one. But that’s not the main reason I’m going to make this proposal.”

Spencer backed up. He couldn’t help it. No matter how hard he tried to be unaffected by his ex-wife, there was still something charismatic about her that drew him in, mixed him up, and threw his brain in a tailspin.

He steeled himself for whatever she might say. “What proposal?”

A self-deprecating smile appeared on Priscilla’s face. “I wasn’t sure whether or not to get down on one knee.” A hint of vulnerability lit her eyes. “Marry me, Spence. Again.”