Swiftly Tumbling Water

By Leslie Stone

Brock Manning, a handsome and hardworking heir of immense wealth, sets off on a course that could result in the destruction of the very heritage that has paved his way, with unimaginable outcomes and irreversible damage to many of the biggest names and personalities in the country.

Seeking anonymity and solitude, he decides that a long cruise to the South Pacific would be the perfect place to hide out in plain sight while he works in the privacy of his suite. His only agenda is to write ten thousand words. But he soon discovers that he must mingle with regular folks, and he becomes entangled in their affairs in ways he never would have imagined. Brock navigates the problems presented by the gorgeous Audra, her two obnoxious children, and their ambitious nanny. Then there is the continuing saga of the cantankerous Madame Annadale DuPree, who charms him with her incredible but true stories. And what should he make of the lovely Leah, who has been placed on the ship to spy on him?

In this novel, a billionaire embarks on a risky mission while on a South Pacific cruiseand gets more than he bargains for when he meets his match along the way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781532040207

Leslie Stone

Leslie Stone honed her writing skills during many years of teaching before entering the field of professional training and development, writing and presenting programs for corporations and professional organizations. Coupled with a background in counseling and extensive world travel, she draws from a rich tapestry of experience and information as she crafts her novels. Swiftly Tumbling Water is the third novel in her travel-based series. She and her husband live in North Carolina and divide their time between homes in the mountains and on the coast, where they enjoy entertaining their friends and family. Ms. Stone can be reached at: [e-mail] www.lesliestone5.com

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Copyright © 2018 Leslie Stone.

Author Credits: Doris R. Brandenburg

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-4019-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-4018-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-4020-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018901943

iUniverse rev. date:   03/06/2018

Contents

It Begins

New York City

Seattle

Pacific Paradise That Same Day

All Aboard - Seattle

Audra Bradford

Annadale DuPree

At Sea

‘WATER’

Annadale

Progress

Suspicion

The Right Moves

Arrangements

ALOHA

Day Two - Hawaii

Aloha Means Goodbye

At Sea

Day 2 at Sea

At Sea – Day 3

At Sea - Day Four

Polynesian Night

One Day Before Samoa

Fa’a Samoa – The Samoan Way

An Evening of Surprises

Uncle Hugh

Bula! – Welcome to Fiji

Those Damned Rules

The Gertzski

The Plot Thickens

Vanuatu and Rough Water

Zodiacs, Pineapples and Berets

The Gertzski

Sydney Surprise

Calm Seas – Rough Sailing

Melbourne, Tasmania, and Beyond

Welcome to Kiwi Land

Christchurch

Countdown

Auckland and One Very Big Surprise

New York - Nine Months Later

About The Author

It Begins

B ROCK MANNING WAS a man on a mission. He was a handsome and sophisticated man, wealthy by any measure, having accumulated his wealth through his own hard work and by the good fortune to have been born the only child of the previous generation of Mannings, who were themselves descendants of the iconoclastic Robber Baron Mannings - the very ones who had buildings named after them at prestigious institutions around the country. All of this should have made him a very happy man, but at the age of thirty-four, recently divorced and temporarily unemployed, he had set upon a course that could, and very probably would if he wanted it to, result in unimaginable outcomes and irreversible damage to many of the biggest names and personalities in the country.

He glanced at his watch as he approached the reception desk at the Auberge Hotel in Vancouver. His flight had been delayed in New York and he was several hours behind schedule but there should be plenty of time for him to check in before his dinner meeting at 8:00. Impatient and edgy, he tapped his credit card on the counter as the young receptionist fiddled around with the computer trying to find his reservation.

Do you have your print-out of your reservation, sir? We have only recently opened and our computers are not functioning properly.

He dug into his breast pocket for it and handed her the print-out. Can you hurry it up a little? he said. I’ve already been taken on a joyride all over town while the cab driver looked for this place. I had to call from the cab twice and ask for directions.

Oh, was that you? she laughed. The other girl took the call and told us what problems you were having. I’m glad you finally made it.

Yeah, well tell her it is a right turn on Hastings St., not a left turn.

She smiled as she punched his information into the computer. Now you should have no more problems. Here is your keycard, sir. I see that you have two large bags. I’ll call the bellman to come assist you.

That won’t be necessary. I can manage. But could you give me directions to a restaurant called Zappos? I understand that it is very near here.

Zappos, she frowned, Zappos? I don’t think I know the place, sir. Let me ask the other receptionist.

Brock let out a long sigh of exasperation as he watched the girl head toward the back. She emerged with a striking redhead who presented him with a pamphlet that listed all the nearby places for dining, but there was no Zappos on the list.

Anxious to be on his way, he said, Okay. Forget it. I’ll find it.

The redhead flashed him a brilliant smile. I’m sorry for giving you such bad directions to the hotel. Please let me call someone to assist you, sir.

Brock was surprised that she had already been told of his complaint but he decided to rub it in a little anyway. Apology accepted, but when I ask you for directions to the cruise ship tomorrow I better allow extra time for correcting my course along the way.

Oh, which ship will you be on? We have three ships in port this weekend. You can walk right from here. It is just around the corner, down the steps by the waterfall, onto the plaza, and the ship is right there. The bellman will see to it that your luggage gets there. You can probably see your ship from your room. I’ll look up the pier number for you, too.

Great. I’ll be on the Pacific Paradise. I’ll pick up the info when I check out tomorrow. And I’ll let you ladies know where Zappos is, too. He pulled his two bags toward the elevator. He had looped his computer and printer cases over the larger bag handles and carried his briefcase. He was due at Zappos in twenty minutes.

He was pleasantly surprised to find his suite quietly elegant and pristine, with a faint smell of newness. He had expected it to be rather second rate since his assistant had booked it for him at the last minute after finding no rooms available at any other hotel near the waterfront, and he had to laugh. Good old Mellie, she had worked her magic for him once again and he made a mental note to mention it to her when he emailed later. He went to the window to see if he could see the ship but there was no water view, just an intersection and lots of foot traffic even though it was nearly dark and it was starting to rain again. The lights were coming on and he hoped he would be able to see a lighted sign for Zappos once he stood at that intersection. After quickly running a comb through his hair he grabbed the umbrella that had been conveniently placed by the door and headed out.

The intersection was crowded with people scrunched under umbrellas. Many others, looking more like vagabonds than tourists, were hauling backpacks that looked big enough to hold their lives’ belongings, and he wondered where they were headed in this rain. He stood looking from side to side for a bright sign for Zappos and then decided to turn right in the general direction of the water since the whole point of meeting there was because it was near the water. But instead of Zappos he saw a sign for the Visitor’s Center so he went in, a little embarrassed that he was unable to find his destination. He hated to ask for directions but an elderly lady immediately asked if she could assist him so he explained his dilemma, emphasizing that he needed to be there at 8:00. She looked quizzically at him, frowning. Zappos? she said. I don’t believe I have ever heard of it. Let’s look at the sightseeing map here on the wall. Pointing to a large X on the map she said, Here, here is where you are now. Where are you coming from?

I’m at the Auberge, but I am trying to get to Zappos Restauante.

I know that, but I want to make sure you know how to get back. The Auberge is new, only opened this week, and many cab drivers can’t find it so you will need to tell them where it is. Only say it is at The Terminal Club because everyone knows where that swanky place is. Now, let’s find your Zappos. She began to study the map.

Brock looked at his watch. Don’t you have a phone book? I will call them for directions.

She reached behind the counter and retrieved a phone book and began to run her finger down the page and there it was, Zappos. Under the name it said Fine Greek Food, Michael Zappapapolous, Proprietor.

Oh, she squealed. It is right there, pointing to the map. Come quick, follow me and I will take you. It is just one block this way and then you turn and go a little farther and it will be across the street. She was already putting on her scarf and grabbing one of the half dozen or so umbrellas propped at the door.

He felt foolish being led out into the rain by a little old lady but decided he better follow as she took off at a pretty good clip, down one way, up some stairs, around a corner, and there it was, Zappos. He thanked her profusely and started to open his wallet but she refused the gesture.

Just enjoy your visit to Vancouver. It is a lovely city. And when you call for a cab tell him to come to Mike’s Place. That’s what everyone calls it. He will know exactly where you are. It is a very popular place.

Brock had never met the man he was meeting so he looked around the small reception area and checked his watch again. No one else was there, not even a hostess, so he peered around the corner to get the lay of the place. It was decorated with potted plants and large cans of food with foreign labels and many miscellaneous Mediterranean items lined shelves around the room. There were also framed photos all around the place, family photos mostly, and many featuring one man in particular posing with many different people in different settings, always wearing a hat. There were stacks of postcards lying around with pictures of the same guy by a yacht, postcards meant to be taken by customers to mail back home, proclaiming ‘I met Mike’. Brock put one in his jacket pocket. Must be Mike, he thought. He was still examining a photo when an attractive, dark-haired waitress approached him.

Are you ready to be seated? she asked.

I’m expecting to meet someone. Do you suggest I take a seat or would you rather I waited in the reception area?

I think the gentleman you are expecting is already here. He’s in the other dining room. I will take you to him, if you are Mr. Manning?

Yes, Brock Manning. They headed to the back and entered a larger room with a very different décor, similar to a New York steak place, a place where connections were established and deals made, with little privacy but where no one would pay any attention. It was the perfect place, public but intimate, a place accustomed to holding gossip and secrets, and strange bedfellows. Brock felt right at home.

Hugh Wallman rose to greet him. He was a much smaller man than Brock had pictured from their phone conversations, and older, with receding brownish red hair. But when he spoke, his strong voice exuded confidence. Hugh Wallman, he said, offering his hand.

Brock Manning. Nice to meet you at last. How was your flight?

The usual crap. Hurry up and wait. I’m taking the red eye back tonight. Want a few drinks before we get started, or do you want to drink and talk at the same time? I’m ready to get down to business if you are.

Let’s start with a round first, Brock said. No need to rush things.

They were interrupted by the sound of laughter and looked to see what it was about. Brock recognized the guy from all the pictures. He was wearing a Panama hat jauntily placed at an angle and he reminded Brock of Jimmy Durante, same tilt of the head, same laugh, and same wide-open personality. It was the inimitable Mike Zappapapolous, restaurateur extraordinaire, making his rounds. He went from table to table shaking hands, patting backs, posing for pictures with his arm around the ladies, bigger than life. Brock was pretty good at schmoozing himself, but this guy was a pro and Brock was fascinated watching him. Here’s a guy, he thought, in a little restaurant, the proud owner, happy as hell - living proof of the perennial advice to find something you love to do and then figure out how you can get paid to do it. Easier said than done.

Mike approached their table, hand outstretched.

Welcome to Zappos. You guys enjoying yourselves? he asked.

Yes, Brock answered. Glad I found this place. It came highly recommended. What do you suggest? Any specials tonight? I see you have quite a few Italian items on the menu.

Yeah, we’re a Greek restaurant but if it weren’t for Italian food there wouldn’t be any Greek restaurants, he quipped. But our steaks are fabulous too. I can cook just about anything from anywhere. I’ve been cooking since I was a kid. Jumped on a freighter in the Mediterranean and saw the world. Worked on one of those mega yachts owned by a Greek shipping magnate, too. Cooked for all kinds of celebrities.

Boy, I bet you have some stories to tell. You should write a book.

Maybe someday. I’d have to get someone to write it for me.

Hugh spoke up for the first time. Well, you have an agent and a writer right here. Any time you want to get started, give me a call. He handed Mike one of his calling cards. Mike put the card in his pocket and continued on his rounds. Five minutes later he returned to the table and put a bottle of liquor down. A little something on the house, he said. It was a bottle of Crown Royal.

Three hours and one empty bottle of Crown Royal later, Brock and Hugh stood and shook hands.

Think about it, Brock. If this project is all that you say it is, it is dynamite, but it might be too hot to handle. A hot property like this will start a bidding war if it leaks out and sometimes leaks weaken the deal in the end. It creates all kinds of negatives and some publishers don’t want to handle it, so we have to keep this under wraps. You said you haven’t taken it to anyone else, so I am taking your word on that, but I have to have something to work with, Brock. Get me ten thousand words as soon as you can. I think if I get the jump on it I can make us a hell of a deal, but not if I don’t have something good to show them. You know I take stuff to all the big ones, the biggest and best ones, and I’m as good as anybody in the business. But I need those ten thousand words by the time you get home. Ten thousand words will be enough to start with to sell the project. Everything is off the table if I don’t get that. I can’t stick my neck out for this if you don’t have the goods. This shit is too hot. You’re sure no one knows what this is about? They don’t suspect anything? And the legal ramifications are huge. You better be damned sure you want to go through with this. We can plan the particulars as you make progress. You sure that your work will be secure, that no one can get in your files? I can have any resource you need. I can even meet you places along the way. Jesus, Brock, there are a million things that could go wrong. Why don’t you just hole up somewhere? We can arrange security for you. Why the hell do you have to leave the country?

"We went all over that, Hugh. I have given you my itinerary and I have your private email address. I will keep you posted. Let the legal stuff up to me. Just use the keyword ‘WATER’ when you talk about the project. My communication capabilities might be limited some days, but you can email me. I have an international phone card and will call you from various ports but you are not to discuss my whereabouts with anyone. You will hear from me."

Alright, I’m on board then, but we won’t put our arrangements in writing until I get the ten thousand words. Good luck, Brock.

Thanks. I’ll be in touch.

It had started.

New York City

L EAH CARPENTER WAS awakened from a sound sleep by the ringtone on her cell phone and fumbled for it as she glanced at her bedside clock - 3:45 a.m. Her heart began to pound. No good news ever arrived at that God-awful hour and her brain went into overdrive, anticipating the worst. Had something terrible happened to Aunt Jenna? Had she lost the one person in the world who loved her like a mother? Her mind raced backward to that other horrible night when she had received a call at that hour, a call that brought news of a terrible tragedy, a tragedy that had nearly destroyed her. Her hand was trembling as she picked up the phone.

Hello.

Hello. Sorry to bother you at this hour but I need your help, he said.

Who is this? she asked, still trembling.

It’s me, Uncle Hugh.

Her heart skipped a beat. Is something wrong? Is Aunt Jenna all right? What has happened? Where are you, Uncle Hugh?

Whoa, slow down. Everything is fine. I am in the Vancouver airport and I have only a few minutes before my plane takes off so I have to talk fast. I have an assignment for you, one that you might actually enjoy for a change. You are still available, aren’t you? Have you got a pencil?

Fully alert now she grabbed a pencil. Yes, unfortunately I am still unemployed. What is this assignment you have for me that couldn’t wait until daylight?

I don’t have time now to explain. They are asking us to turn off our phones, so listen closely. Pack your bags and your passport. Do you still have my credit card from your last assignment? Take it with you. I just booked you a flight to Seattle – leaves JFK at 1:30 this afternoon. Check into the downtown Hilton. I will have instructions waiting for you there. You arrive at 7:20.

How long will I be gone, Uncle Hugh? Can you at least give me an idea of what I will need?

You will need the usual things, some casual stuff and some fancy stuff. You are going on a cruise. You will be gone seven …

The phone went dead.

She sat on the side of the bed dumbfounded before looking at the clock again, trying to decide what to do first. Good old Uncle Hugh. Up to his old tricks, but he was the best in the business and she was desperate for work, so she dragged herself to the shower. He had been her lifeline so often during these past few years as she struggled to make her way in the crowded and competitive field of interior design. He seemed to always have some little assignment for her just when she needed it. The pelting water had the desired effect, jolting her to the reality of this newest assignment. Usually his little requests for help were only for a few days but it sounded like he was saying seven days before the phone cut off. What could she possibly do for one whole week? And whatever would she pack? And a cruise? He didn’t say to where but from Seattle it was probably to Alaska so she did a mental inventory of warmer clothes she could take. It was September and probably getting cold there. Yes, that’s where it would be – Alaska. Holy Cow.

Seattle

I T WAS A warm and unusually sunny day for September in Seattle and Audra Bradford settled herself in a lounge chair near the shallow end of the pool where several small children were playing. She could keep an eye on her own two children and also see if anyone entered the pool area from the lobby. She was expecting a young woman in her twenties and she felt unusually nervous about the whole situation. Time had been her enemy along with everything else lately and she had made a last minute decision to hire a nanny and traveling companion for her children. The agency she used had assured her that this young woman would be the perfect choice. She had impeccable education credentials, came highly recommended by those who had screened her, and she had absolutely no experience, which was probably a good thing. She would have her hands full.

Audra sat back and stretched out her long legs and adjusted her caftan. She had been tempted to sun herself but had decided it might be inappropriate to meet the new nanny in her bikini, although at thirty-four she could do justice to a bikini with the best of them, and she smiled at the thought. Maybe she should take a selfie and send it to him, she laughed. He had always loved her in a bikini. He would have a hard time replacing her.

Mrs. Bradford? a voice from behind her said. Are you Mrs. Bradford?

Audra turned to answer. Yes, yes. I am Mrs. Bradford. You must be Tess. Please join me. I hope you don’t mind meeting here poolside but it was the perfect place for the children to occupy their time.

This is the perfect place to meet, Mrs. Bradford. I am anxious to meet the children, too.

Before I call them over let me say how delighted I was that you were able to join me on such short notice. I know it was an unusual request but I am hopeful that you will enjoy the trip and have a positive influence on my children. You seem younger than I was expecting. Twenty-four, right? And no experience? And no employment record? Well, we shall have to work around all of that. Once we get settled on the ship I will give you more explicit directives, but for now we shall just muddle through. Have you checked in? I will be expecting you at my suite at 6:30 to entertain the children and take them to dinner in one of the restaurants here at the hotel. You are not to leave the premises. I will be meeting a gentleman for dinner but will expect the children to be in the suite by 9:00 and ready for bed. We board the ship at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Also, Tess, let me remind you that you have signed a confidentiality agreement. Nothing you see or hear is to be repeated to anyone. And you are to ask no questions of the children, except that which directly pertains to their activities, wellbeing, and studies. Do I make myself clear?

I understand, Mrs. Bradford.

Good. Then let’s call the children and make the introductions.

Audra rose from her lounge chair and called to the children. Logan, she called. Reagan, come meet Tess.

Tess had been watching two young children in the wading pool but when neither of them responded to the names, she turned her eyes toward the deeper water where a boy about eight or nine years old was pelting a preteen girl with water balloons and she was protesting loudly. She watched as Audra went to the side of the pool and called again for the children. As Audra turned she was slammed in the back of the head with a water balloon and both kids roared with laughter.

Audra’s beautiful dark hair was plastered to her head and her expensive silk caftan was dripping. She grabbed a towel as the two kids slogged toward Tess.

This is Reagan, Tess. She is twelve. And this is Logan. He is nine.

I’m happy to meet you, Tess said, smiling. I’m sure we will have a wonderful time together.

Logan glared at her and said belligerently, I don’t need a nanny. Reagan just rolled her eyes.

Pacific Paradise That Same Day

T HE CRUISE SHIP Pacific Paradise had arrived at Canada Place Terminal in downtown Vancouver during the early morning hours and began disembarkation at nine o’clock. She had just completed her last Alaska itinerary for the summer and would begin boarding new passengers for an extensive cruise to the South Pacific. Embarkation would begin at eleven and departure was at four o’clock. The ship would then sail to Seattle for only a twelve-hour stay to take on additional passengers and allow for brief shore visits for those already on board.

Brock had opted to board in Vancouver rather than Seattle to allow for the meeting with Hugh Wallman in a destination outside of the country to eliminate any appearance of a chance meeting, a destination that required both men to officially pass through Canadian immigration as documentation that they had both been in Vancouver on that date. Since both men lived in New York and only Brock was boarding the Pacific Paradise, Hugh Wallman would have a hard time justifying his presence in Vancouver for only a few hours. Just a precaution, but Brock had learned to document very carefully.

After waiting in the line designated M – R, Brock boarded the Pacific Paradise at exactly eleven fifty-five a.m. His luggage had been delivered to his suite and he made a quick check of the number of bags to make sure it was all there. In addition to his two large bags he had checked his three smaller bags containing his computer, printer, and files. They were all there. The suite that Mellie had booked for him was spacious and well appointed and included a private balcony which spanned the width or the living area and bedroom. There was a perfect spot for his writing apparatus and a comfortable leather desk chair had just been delivered. And most importantly, the suite was a hot spot – he had unlimited internet access at his fingertips. Mellie had thought of everything and he knew it wasn’t going to be easy to work without her at his beck and call. She had promised to help him but she was dead set against this idea of a long trip out of the country. He was planning to be gone for seven weeks, plenty of time to meet the deadline.

There was a knock on the door. A stout Filipino man dressed in a uniform that resembled a tuxedo, introduced himself. I am Fernardo, Mr. Manning. I will be your butler on this cruise. Please call me for anything I can do for you.

Butler? Brock said. I wasn’t expecting that.

Yes sir. A butler is assigned to each of the suites on this deck, sir. How can I assist you?

Just make sure bottled water is delivered every day. And have some Pepsi in the refrigerator and salted cashews. And apples. No other fruit. Also, I requested strict privacy so you will be the only person allowed in the room. All cleaning and other deliveries are to come through you. And you are to be present when room service is delivered. This was all cleared at booking, I believe. And none of my papers are to be touched. Even if one falls to the floor, don’t pick it up. And don’t empty the trashcan. I will put it on the bed when I want it emptied. Okay?

Yes sir. We are familiar with this procedure. I have been specifically assigned to you and am available for you twenty-four hours a day. You have my call number.

Thanks, Fernardo. I will be in the room most of the time, so just knock two times and let yourself in. Things should get rolling tomorrow but I’m going to relax the rest of today. If I think of anything else I’ll let you know.

It was 1:30. Brock left the room and headed to the elevator. It was one of those glass elevators that ran on the outside of the ship and afforded spectacular views of the city and he tuned to face the view and didn’t even acknowledge the passenger who got on at the next floor until he heard the thud of something dropping and turned to see. It was an elderly lady who had just dropped an oversized tote bag spilling its contents of books.

Here, he said. Let me get those for you.

Oh, how clumsy of me, she said. I was just returning these books to the ship’s library. I guess I was trying to carry too many. They like me to return the books every week.

Every week? How many weeks have you been aboard?

This is my fourth back to back cruise. I always go to the library on the first day of a new cruise because the library shelves are full then.

Good thinking. Why don’t I just carry these books for you and you can show me where the library is? Perhaps I’ll get a book too.

How lovely of you. She held out her hand. I’m Annadale DuPree.

Brock Manning, he said. Nice to meet you.

He left her at the library as fast as he could without being rude, but he had no intention of spending any more time with her and had zero interest in checking out a book. She didn’t seem to notice. She was already engaged in conversation with an elderly man. But she had noticed plenty.

Brock continued on his tour of the ship, taking special note of where the lounges and the bars were. He wanted a place that offered solitude and privacy. He wasn’t looking for a drinking buddy and wasn’t the slightest bit interested in picking up women, or even being engaged in phony conversation with one. But a good watering hole was good for the soul and encouraged creativity. Hell, half of the world’s famous writers were drunks, weren’t they? He chuckled at the thought and figured he would soon find out for himself, but he wondered which came first, the writing or the drinking. He continued his exploration of the ship and finally settled into a lounge chair on deck, where a waiter promptly appeared and asked if he would like a drink. Brock glanced at his watch and ordered a martini straight up with a twist. Might as well get an early start. It was after five in New York anyway. He began to peruse the day’s schedule. There was a trivia contest in the Crow’s Nest at five o’clock and a singles gathering around the pool at six o’clock, and a computer class for beginners at seven, bridge at eight, and two movies. Jesus, this was going to be one hell of a long trip. After only a few sips of his martini, he settled back in the lounge chair and closed his eyes.

Late seating for dinner was at 8:45. He put on a navy sport coat with khakis and a dress shirt open at the collar and headed for the dining room. He preferred to dine alone but the maître d checked for his name on the list of reservations and asked, Did you make seating arrangements, sir? If not I can seat you with another single for tonight. There will be much rearranging once the others board in Seattle and we will be able to reserve you a single table then.

Fine, just put me with another single tonight. Brock hated being assigned to a seat with strangers and he hated the ensuing small talk that it involved, the assault of questions he didn’t care to answer and the litany of the life stories of those he couldn’t care less about, but he would tough it out for one night.

The maître d searched his chart for an available seat with a single and signaled Brock to follow him. He was escorted to a prime table right in the center of the dining room that afforded a great view of the comings and goings and was right next to the center plexiglass ring that overlooked the entire lower level as well. He made a mental note to ask for this table tomorrow when he made his table request for the rest of the trip. A lady was already seated at the table but as they approached he could only see the back of her head and he stood politely while the maître d bent down and spoke quietly to her, and then turned to Brock.

Madame DuPree has agreed to share her table, sir. Let me introduce you.

Introductions won’t be necessary, Edwaurd, she said. Mr. Manning and I have already met.

Holy God, it was the elderly woman from the elevator.

Well, this is a pleasant surprise, isn’t it? I didn’t expect to see much more of you since I don’t often visit the library, he joked.

No, I don’t suppose you do, she replied. I would suppose you prefer the lounges and the gaming parlors.

Well, you suppose wrong, Madame DuPree. At least you are wrong about the gaming parlors. I am not much of a gambler. But I hope that is not a disappointment to you.

No, it was more of a miscalculation, I would say, but it is a relief to meet someone so young who at least has some common sense when it comes to money. Perhaps my miscalculation is due to the generational gap between us. I was expecting to be joined by a much more mature person, someone of a more advanced age.

Well, I apologize for my few years and will attempt to overlook your many, he said. Perhaps with just a little tolerance and endurance we will both survive this dinner. He held his glass toward her. Shall we drink to that?

She raised her wine glass toward him. Yes, to endurance, she said, and he noticed a slight twinkle in her eyes.

So, he said, I think the next question is ‘where are you from?’ You told me on the elevator that this is your fourth consecutive cruise, so I am curious to know how that came to be.

I guess you can say I am from everywhere and nowhere, she laughed. But I must claim New York as my homeport. How about you? Where do you put down anchor?

New York as well. Manhattan, specifically.

They were interrupted by the waiter who had come to take their order. Brock hadn’t even looked at the menu, so he listened to Madame DuPree, who promptly made a recommendation.

The fish is wonderful and will be from the northern waters, you know. Once we head south the fish dishes change.

Thanks for the suggestion. Why not just order for me while you’re at it? he quipped. His comment was met with a steely reprimand.

It is not necessary to be snide, she said. I was merely making a suggestion. But she ordered for both of them anyway.

Unfazed by the criticism, Brock reopened the conversation. Well, where were we? I believe the next question would be ‘what do you do?’ and I am interested in hearing about your lifestyle. Are you one of those live-aboards I’ve heard about?

Heavens no. I am just traveling for nostalgia’s sake, revisiting some places from my past. But I am curious about you, Mr. Manning. What puts you on this ship? You seem a little out of place with so many older travelers. And how do you manage to be gone from your work for such a long time?

Well, actually I am on hiatus. But how I happen to be on this ship is a very long story, perhaps better left untold.

The waiter approached with their food, elegantly plated cod, and they began to eat. After a few bites, Brock reached for the salt and generously salted his fish.

Salt? he said, offering her the shaker.

Why in the world would you salt something that is so perfectly prepared? she chided.

Because it needs salt, Brock replied. I think the fish is bland and needs salt. As a matter of fact it needs pepper too, he said, as he reached for the silver pepper mill.

For heaven’s sake. You are dining on that fish, not preserving it for the entire journey, she scolded. In some circles it is considered an insult to the chef to make adjustments to the seasoning. At the very least it is considered bad manners.

Brock put a rather large piece of fish on his fork and pointed it toward her ceremoniously. My apologies to the chef, he announced, as he popped it into his mouth.

She nibbled on her fish again and then reached for the salt without looking at him, but he didn’t let her get by with it. Here, he said. Let me grind a little fresh pepper on that too. Then he reached for the lovely cut glass decanter of red wine that had been placed near her and refilled her glass without comment.

They ate the rest of the meal in silence, exchanging only a few pleasantries.

When dinner was over Brock rose and thanked her for allowing him to join her. I guess it is time to call it a night, he said. Have you plans for the rest of the evening or will you retire to your reading?

Heavens no. I usually dance the night away in the disco, she quipped, and he noticed that twinkle again.

Well, perhaps we will run into each other again, he said.

Yes, perhaps we can dine together another time.

No way, he thought. No way would he spend any of his time with a boring, critical old woman. He would meet with the maître d first thing in the morning to make his table reservation.

Madame Annadale DuPree sat alone for a few minutes, sipping her wine. He would do, she thought. He would do nicely.

All Aboard - Seattle

T HE FLIGHT FROM New York to Seattle had been uneventful but Leah Carpenter was a white-knuckle flyer and had not managed to even catnap. Usually the little assignments that came her way were just more like errands around Manhattan and didn’t require traveling or special wardrobe concerns and she had spent most of the flight ruminating about what she had packed for this mystery trip to Alaska. And worrying. When she had moved to New York from her lifetime home in Vermont, after the tragic events that had shattered her sheltered life, she had been filled with trepidation and excitement and she was feeling some of that same trepidation now. It was so unlike Uncle Hugh to call at odd hours and to leave such vague instructions. And Aunt Jenna hadn’t answered her phone today when she had called to tell her about this latest assignment, filling Leah with more concerns.

She had tried to put these worries to rest and convince herself that this would be a trip of a lifetime, but most of the time her feelings of dread overrode her best intentions. At twenty-eight she had yet to create the life she dreamed of and if it weren’t for Uncle Hugh keeping her afloat she would have given up the dream and settled for any job she could get, and the irony of the metaphor made her laugh. She would be afloat for seven days.

Upon arrival in Seattle at 6:30 p.m. she had gone directly to the Hilton and asked if there was a message waiting for her and had eagerly opened the envelope that was handed to her. The message was brief, too brief. All it said was that she was to board the Pacific Paradise cruise ship at 11:00 a.m. tomorrow and to pick up boarding papers at the ship’s check-in counter. And a PS. Sign up for unlimited time on email ASAP. Instructions to follow. Good Luck. PSS. Aunt Jenna and I are going to Bermuda for a few days. So the mystery assignment would not be revealed until tomorrow. Well, Uncle Hugh would pull this off as usual, she thought, but those nagging feelings of dread had taken over again.

She had spent the entire evening in her room reading brochures about Alaska and treating herself to room service for dinner, and a luxurious bubble bath before an early bedtime. But she didn’t sleep well. By the time she boarded the hotel limousine to the cruise ship terminal she was a nervous wreck. But the boarding procedures were smooth and her papers where waiting for her and the excitement of it all consumed her as she began to unpack. She didn’t have a luxurious suite but the room was spacious, even though it was an inside cabin with no window and was dark as a pocket. Oh well, it would do. It was probably the best Uncle Hugh could get on such short notice. She would just have to remember to leave a light on when she left the room. There were several folders of information on the desk but she didn’t bother to look at any of it. There would be plenty of time for that later. She was still unpacking when she felt the ship begin to move and hurried up to the deck to watch as the Pacific Paradise eased her way out of her berth. She drew in a deep breath. Alaska, here I come, she laughed.

Standing at the rail about fifteen feet from her was a young woman with two kids in tow. The younger one, a boy, was climbing on the rail and the young woman was grabbing onto his shirt to keep him from falling overboard. While she was holding on to the boy, the older child, a girl of twelve or so, strolled off, and Leah heard the woman call after her. Reagan, please stay near me. You are not to go wondering off by yourself. But Reagan just kept on walking.

The commotion was taking place right in front of Brock Manning, who had made himself comfortable in a lounge chair to enjoy the view of Seattle as they headed out to sea. Brock had no patience with people who took their obnoxious kids out in public instead of keeping them at home in a cage, where he thought they belonged, but the situation looked like it could end in disaster so he watched for a few minutes before getting up. He went right up to the kid and grabbed him by the shoulders.

Hey there, guy. What are you trying to do, see if you can swim back to shore? He pulled the kid off the railing and stood him upright. You know what they do with kids who climb on the railing? They put them in the jail down in the hold.

Logan was flabbergasted and Tess, the frustrated nanny, was furious. Was that necessary? Was it necessary to scare him out of his wits?

I’m not scared of anything, Logan smarted off. He didn’t scare me at all.

See, Brock replied. The kid isn’t scared of anything. No harm, no foul. But I suggest you keep an eye on your son from now on. And you better catch up to your other kid before she gets into trouble too.

Tess could feel the blush of embarrassment from being chastised by a stranger, and she dreaded the fallout from the beautiful Audra, who would hear the story from her children. I’m sure Reagan is waiting for me just down the way, but I thank you for your concern, she said with a bit of sarcasm. Brock watched as she walked away. He couldn’t see the tears of frustration that were bubbling up in her eyes and he couldn’t possibly know the awful situation she was in. Tess Martin had created quite a mess for herself, and she knew it. Logan was running far in front of her.

Leah Carpenter had taken it all in too and felt sorry for the young woman who was struggling with the two unruly kids. She appeared too young to be the mother and totally out of control of the situation. It must really be hard to travel with kids and that guy sure had nerve to criticize her. What a jerk. Leah turned and walked in the direction the children had gone. Maybe she could catch up with them and offer a friendly hand. She sure didn’t have anything else to do. She planned to eat an early dinner and then prop up in bed and read some more about Alaska and find the first port on the map. Her instructions should be waiting for her there.

Brock sat back down in the lounge chair and took a sip of his martini. He had had a pretty frustrating day himself. First he had tried to make his dining table reservation, only to be told that Madame DuPree had already reserved that particular table for herself for her entire journey. He had asked the maître d if Madame DuPree usually dined with someone and was surprised at the answer.

No sir. She dines by herself. Only occasionally does someone join her. She is quite pleasant but keeps to herself. Mostly she reads, even at the table.

"Well, if by chance