Page 8 of Hearts Aweigh
E MILY WAITED BY THE ENTRANCE of the starboard-side lounge, tapping her black three-ring binder against her chin.
A family of four entered. The mother and father gushed about the previous evening’s buffet dinner while their two boys hunched over their game consoles. Behind them stood a young couple.
Correction. Half a young couple.
The man’s close-cropped brown hair hinted of gray at the scalp, where his dye job was growing out.
A woman in her twenties wrapped around his waist like a second belt.
From the way she giggled and cooed, Emily wondered if they were May–December newlyweds.
She checked the woman’s left hand. No diamonds.
But on the man’s ring finger was a slightly lighter band of flesh.
Emily studied him—the wary way his eyes darted around the room as if searching for anyone he knew. The couple sidled off to a secluded table behind a potted plant. Emily shook her head.
“Yep.” Althea slid beside her. “A cheater if I ever saw one. I wonder if his poor wife is sitting at home, believing he’s on a business trip.”
Daisy arrived on Emily’s other side. “Perhaps he’s recently divorced.”
A familiar snort came from Gerry as she joined the party. “Perhaps that’s his real hair color too.”
“Let’s ignore the shameful choices of others, girls.” Emily gathered her friends and pushed them toward the windows. “We’ve got a real romance to arrange.”
The Shippers picked a table away from the pedestrian traffic for their strategy meeting.
Emily positioned her chair in the corner—a perfect vantage point to observe the room while enjoying the window view at her elbow. She slid the curtain back to let in more light. Blue water waved hello like an old friend from the other side of the glass.
“Time to draft our battle plan. How many viable candidates do we have for Abby?”
Gerry tapped a few laptop keys. “Three, plus one under consideration.”
“That’s all?” Althea asked. “She’s such a cute, cheerful thing. I’d expect the men would be lining up to date her.”
“It’s not about who’s interested,” Emily said. “It’s about who deserves her. A man who’s kind, dependable, and has a good relationship with the Lord. Those aren’t so easy to find.”
“Handsome too.” Althea stuck a finger in the air. “Might as well go for broke if we’re asking for the impossible.”
“Not a bad idea.” Emily laced her hands together. “Why don’t we ask for guidance from the One who specializes in making the impossible possible.”
They bowed their heads, and Emily prayed. “Dear Lord, you brought Abby to us for a reason. Help us find the man you intended for her. Let him be honest, trustworthy, and fun.”
Daisy spoke reverently. “We ask that he treat her with respect and consideration. Let him be a loving partner who supports her dreams and aspirations.”
Gerry prayed next. “Please give him the wisdom of Knightley. The good humor of Tilney. The constancy of Wentworth. And the simmering passion of Mr. Darcy.”
Althea finished. “And please, Lawd, let him be easy on the eyes. Someone Abby will be happy to look at across the breakfast table for the next sixty years.”
They concluded the prayer, and Gerry slipped her glasses on her nose. She spun her laptop around to the other women. It showed a picture of a slim man wearing ironed khakis with a black leather belt and a button-down shirt, tucked in neat and precise.
“Candidate number one,” she said. “Norville Boynton, the honorary chaplain for this voyage.”
“Doesn’t give us much time.” Emily took notes in her binder. “What are his qualifications?”
“Age thirty-one. Graduated from a respected seminary six years ago. Pastors a small Methodist church in Cape Canaveral, Florida. Does missionary work every summer at an orphanage in South America.”
The air-conditioning blew from the vent over their heads. Daisy withdrew a handkerchief from her purse and pressed it to her nostrils. “He fulfills the height requirement Abby gave us. Tall enough that she can wear heels, but just barely.”
“Something’s off.” Althea’s mouth scrunched at the corner.
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for helping the ministry.
My son-in-law works harder than any man I know pastoring his church in Chicago.
But how did this Boynton guy stay single so long?
Thirty-one years is a long time to wait if he’s truly walking the straight and narrow.
We don’t want Abby marrying a cold fish. ”
“Althea”—Daisy wrung her handkerchief—“that’s no way to refer to a member of the clergy.”
“I’m inclined to agree with her.” Gerry typed away. “No woman wants to crawl into bed with an ice cube.”
“Ladies!” Daisy’s handkerchief flapped like a signal flag.
Emily’s fingers drummed the table. “Deep-six the chatter, girls. We’ve got work to do. Who’s candidate number two, Gerry?”
“Peter.” Gerry clicked a button, and a picture appeared of the first mate in his dress whites, a cap tucked under his arm, his blue eyes wide with earnest fervor.
Althea laughed. “Peter? He’s skinnier than a Catholic at Lent. And fussy as all get-out.”
“He does like to remind us of the rules,” Emily admitted. “But he’s a good boy. And very accommodating.”
“Indeed.” Daisy put her signal flag away. “He’s always checking on us. And he’s a regular member of the staff. That eliminates the time constrictions we encounter with the minister.”
“Good point.” Emily made a note. “Although Abby’s so eager, I don’t think she’ll mind us rushing her a bit.”
“Still not feeling it.” Althea held up three fingers. “Next.”
Gerry scrolled down her computer screen. “Candidate number three requires a bit of finagling. He’s not aboard the ship.”
“Say that again.” Althea propped a hand on her hip.
“He’s a dock manager in Galveston.” Gerry spun her laptop again. It showed a burly man with abundant black curls. “I’ve talked with Diego Gutierrez several times on our turnaround days.”
“As have I.” Emily nodded. “He’s a personable young man. Although he’s the youngest of six boys, he takes care of his aging mother, works hard at his job, and attends church every Sunday. I can tell he’s on the up-and-up.”
“And brawny to boot.” Althea whistled. “He must lift a lot of boxes to earn those muscles. Imagine the cute, curly-headed kids he and Abby could make together.”
“You said he’s in Texas,” Daisy said. “How are we to arrange a match if they’re an ocean apart?”
“The old-fashioned way.” Gerry swiped her finger over the mouse pad.
“Or should I say new-fashioned? Back in the day, people corresponded with letters for months before marrying sight unseen. At least now they can talk to each other face-to-face through the internet.” An online meeting app filled the screen.
“Since Abby’s been hinting at us for months, I already laid the groundwork with Diego when we were in port last time.
He’s seen Abby from a distance and is definitely interested. All we have to do is set a chat time.”
Emily steepled her fingers. “I love your forethought, Gerry. This opens a whole new range of prospects.”
Althea leaned away. “That twinkle in your eye scares me. We’re not going to launch an online dating business, are we?”
“Not at this time. But if things go well with Diego, it’s another option to keep in mind for the future.”
Daisy tugged her cashmere wrap closer. “What about the last option you mentioned? Why is the gentleman ‘under consideration’ instead of an official candidate?”
Gerry took off her spectacles and swiped them against her sleeve. “Well, he’s a … that is … Circumstances are a bit difficult to predict with the last one.”
“Oh, tell her.” Emily swatted her hand. “The last one is your son.”
Althea grasped Daisy’s arm, but her roomie sat perfectly composed at the revelation. Her expression didn’t alter by so much as the flick of an eyelash. Then she cleared her throat.
“This simplifies the process. Please take Spencer off the list, and we can concentrate on the other three. My son is a poor choice for this match.”
“Why?” Gerry’s eyebrows lowered. “Do you think Abby isn’t good enough for him?”
“Quite the opposite.” Daisy tilted her head a degree to the right. “Spencer takes after his father. Don’t subject a sweet girl like Abby to the same smothering lifestyle I endured.”
“Aren’t you being a tad harsh?” Emily asked. “Maybe he just needs the right woman to soften his—”
“Isn’t a good relationship with the Lord your uppermost requirement for a candidate?
” Daisy dropped her wrap from her shoulders and fanned herself.
“I can assure you, my son only attends church to establish connections and maintain his social image. He wouldn’t heed the voice of the Almighty even if it spoke to him from a pillar of fire. ”
“God, help me,” Spencer whispered.
He stood on the deck and stared at the little girl by his side.
Was she hungry? Tired? Should he carry her?
His inadequate attempts at caring for his daughter this morning had only confirmed the obvious—he stank at being a father.
But Madeleine never complained, even when he’d made an absolute mess of her hair attempting to brush it into a ponytail.
Now it drooped from the crown of her head in a loose, flyaway mess with silken bumps protruding on all sides of the rubber band.
Spencer eyed the childcare entrance with distrust. A faux castle stretched above the double glass doors, and a banner proclaiming Kids Kingdom fluttered in the wind.
It somehow seemed wrong to leave his daughter with complete strangers.
What if the staff was incompetent? What if the other children bullied her?
But he lacked the capability to watch her alone. The last time he’d seen the governess was when she’d pushed past him for another trip to the bathroom. She’d stumbled straight to her room afterward. It was safe to assume she’d be incommunicado for the rest of the voyage.