Claire Gulliver #04 - Cruisin' for a Bruisin' (4 page)

“Well, we only need three. That doesn’t sound too hard, does it?” Lucy appeared very confident and actually the way she said “only three” didn’t sound impossible.

“And we only want a little romance. We’re not looking for life commitments.”

Claire nodded, although she was dubious about Lucy’s plan. It was easier to agree and worry about the details if and when Lucy found them candidates. “Well Lucy, if you’re taking orders I like mature, but not old, and still virile. I don’t care about the hair, but please find me some one with a sense of humor.”

“Hey, this isn’t a dating service, you know. Give me a break. I have a limited pool of resources.”

Claire looked around at the variety of people in the lounge. The crowd was eclectic and noisy. It was hard to pick individuals out of the group, but one thing was for sure, everyone was ready to have a good time.

Lucy put down her empty glass. “Ladies, I’m going down to the cabin to freshen up before dinner. I’ll meet you outside the dining room in a half hour, okay? Claire, do you want me to take your jacket?”

Claire got up. “No, I’ll go with you. Mom, do you want me to take your jacket?”

“Would you, dear? And Ruth’s too. Here’s my room key.”

Claire, her arms full of jackets once again, prepared to traverse the length of the ship. “I don’t think we have to worry about using the workout room, Lucy. If we make this trek to our cabin a few times a day, it should help counteract all the food we’ll consume.” She got off the elevator at the sixth level to drop the jackets off at her mother’s cabin while Lucy descended to the second level where their cabin was located near the back of the ship.

“Excuse me, sir?” The tuxedo clad man spoke into Ian’s ear.

Ian looked up interrupting his anxious scan of the passengers still straggling into the huge dining room. He recognized the maitre d’ he had met with earlier, just after boarding, in fact.

The man glanced around the faces at the half full table and then said discreetly to Ian. “We find we do have a space available for you and your brother in the late seating, as you requested. If you would follow me...” he turned and nodded to the waiter, who stood behind him with fresh place settings to prepare the table for others.

Ian shrugged at Sean as they both stood, laid their napkins down, nodded cordially to the others seated at the table and followed the maitre d’ out of the dining room, passing another host leading a group of four to the table they had abandoned.

“What’s going on? I thought you wanted the early seating?” Sean whispered.

“I don’t know, but I do know I paid plenty to make sure we got seated at the right table, so let’s just follow him.”

The maitre d’ led them to a secluded corner near the front entrance and smiled apologetically. “Thank you for following my lead. There has been a bit of a last minute muddle. The party you requested to be seated with changed to the late seating. I felt obligated to honor my agreement with you, so I did some fast shuffling to get you changed too. I hope you will be satisfied with my efforts.”

Ian smiled. “That’s perfect. Thanks for taking care of it. I’d much rather be at the later seating and I did so want to surprise my friends by appearing at their table.”

Sean didn’t say anything, but managed to nod with a small smile.

“Fine. Just present yourself back here at the late seating and you will be seated at the table you requested.” The maitre d’ nodded firmly and turned away. The first night of a cruise was always his busiest time with everyone requesting changes, early to late, late to early, big table to small intimate table, and the worst was still to come. Tomorrow he would be trying to satisfy those people who found they didn’t like their table companions and so now want to be moved to another table far away.

Ian watched him go back to the cluster of people near the host station and then turned to Sean. “Hey, bro, let’s go have a drink.”

“Table eighty-four for Springer, Gulliver and Clarkson.” Lucy smiled brightly at the incredibly handsome maitre d’ as she handed him the engraved card with their dinner seating assignment.

He paused just a moment to smile back at her before consulting his list. “Oh, ladies, we’ve had a slight change. We have moved you to table seventeen, a most congenial group and in an excellent location. I’m sure you will enjoy it.” He turned to one of his assistants and murmured further instructions before stepping back and waving them into the vast and ornate dining room.

Claire and Lucy exchanged questioning looks at the last minute change, but they followed Millie and Ruth through the labyrinth of tables and chairs in the dining room.

“Here you are, table seventeen.”

The man gallantly held out Ruth’s chair while Millie took the next of the four empty seats on one side of the oval table. Lucy slipped into the next one leaving the end one for Claire.

That last chair was to the right of the chair where sat the very same old lady she had seen in the corridor earlier. There was no getting out of it. All the other seats at the table were filled. She couldn’t believe with almost a thousand people at each sitting, she had somehow been placed next to the person, who must be the oldest on the cruise. She just hoped the lady wasn’t senile and deaf. Well, she thought, so much for Lucy’s plan for finding romance for her. She sat down hoping no one guessed the reason for her hesitation.

Mentally she chastised herself. It’s only a meal, after all. How bad could it be? But when the woman’s claw-like hand grasped Claire’s arm to pull her closer and Claire choked on the scented cloud of Jean Nate bath powder which, in spite of its liberal use, failed to mask the slight odor of decay emanating from the elderly woman, she wondered if she could make it through dinner.

“My dear, I’m Florence Bernbaum. And you?” Her voice quavered with age, but her faded blue eyes had a sharp gleam.

Claire forced a smile, then coughed to clear her throat so she could speak. She was determined to be polite and make the best of the situation. “I’m Claire Gulliver, from Bayside. That’s down below San Francisco a bit. Do you know it?”

“Of course, of course, I was born and raised in San Francisco. I’m quite familiar with the area.”

Claire heard her name and turned to smile at the others around the table as Ruth introduced each of their party.

“Sean Gallagher, here, and my brother Ian. We’re glad to meet you all.” Sean still showed the remnants of his Irish good looks, even though his hair was white, his complexion a tad too ruddy and his body, softened by time, had slid down to thicken his waist. His brother was obviously the younger. His hair was still salt and pepper, his large body still looked hard and his handsome face was etched with deep lines around his mouth, eyes and across his forehead, which instead of aging him seemed to add distinction. He smiled his greeting and his eyes lit his face with a bit of devilment.

Claire pulled her leg back from Lucy’s kick. She didn’t need the sharp jab to notice that fate had dumped two of Lucy’s three male targets right in their lap.

“Dr. Richard Walmer,” the man sitting across from Claire said pompously, “and this is my dear, great aunt, Florence Bernbaum.”

Dr. Walmer looked to be in his forties. He was thin, darkly tanned, wore a small moustache and was impeccably groomed. He was obviously taken with his own importance, but to his credit he appeared to be very fond of his aunt.

“The Meriwetters here, Harold and Pearl,” the florid man announced, then added, “from Houston.” His lively wife, probably in her mid-to-late thirties, was almost dancing in her chair, she was that excited.

“This is going to be so fun. I’ve never been on a cruise before.” She looked around the table. “I hope you all will make sure we do everything right.”

Lucy shook her head. “I think we’re with you. This is our first cruise too.”

Ian shook his big head. “Sorry, ladies, this is a first for Sean and me, too.”

They all looked to Dr. Walmer, who reluctantly shook his head. Mrs. Bernbaum nodded. “Of course I sailed before. On the Luraline. What a wonderful ship. It was so sad they disbanded the company. But things change and that was long ago. I’m not even sure cruising is the same now as it was then. This ship appears to be lovely. It is certainly large.

Millie laughed. “Well, Mrs. Bernbaum, you are our resident expert and we will look to you for guidance on the protocol.”

“Good evening, my name is Pedro and I am honored to be your waiter for this trip.” His smile was warm as he passed out the menu cards. “Here are the selections our chef has chosen for the first night of our voyage and while you’re deciding on your choices perhaps I can bring you a cocktail? Will any of you be having wine tonight?” He nodded at the response. “I will send our sommelier over as soon as you’ve seen the menu. I think you will find we stock an extraordinary wine cellar.”

Pedro was back with the drinks in very quick order, took their meal selections and left them to get acquainted over their drinks, promising the sommelier would soon appear.

“What did you order, Mom?” Claire leaned forward to talk around Lucy.

“Lamb chops. I couldn’t resist.”

“I decided on the Turbot in parchment. It sounds divine.” Lucy smiled in anticipation.

“Ruth ordered the Turbot, too. What did you order, dear?” Millie asked.

“I ordered the Pork Roast in Apricot/Orange Glaze. Doesn’t that sound good?” Claire could almost taste it. “I hope the food is at least half as good as it sounds. Wouldn’t it be awful to be stuck on a ship that served mediocre food?”

“Oh no, that won’t happen, not on this ship. We checked carefully. It’s our first cruise, you see. This ship is rated very high in the food categories. That’s why we chose it over all the rest.”

“Well, one of the reasons,” Harold clarified Pearl’s comment. “We chose itinerary first, then food, and then we had a whole list of categories we compared before selecting a
Call of the Sea
cruise.”

“So, have we selected the best?” Ian asked.

Pearl nodded. “You bet! This ship was voted best in last year’s
Conde Nast
Readers’ Poll. That’s a really big endorsement.”

Claire was having a hard time following the conversation at the other end of the table. The noise in the dining room seemed to be increasing in direct proportion to the rounds of drinks served. And, while Mrs. Bernbaum had finally released the grip on her arm in order to examine the menu card, she now was leaning toward her, grabbing at her again. Clearly she had something to say.

Claire fought her inclination to turn to Lucy on her other side and graciously bent her head close to hear the old lady.

Mrs. Bernbaum had probably never been big, but she looked as if she had shrunk as she aged and now she was wizened and wrinkled. Her hair was unfortunately thinning, so her pink scalp showed through the white curls covering her head. Her dark blue dress had been fashionable about thirty years ago, and it had probably fit her then. Now it was too big. She had a large patterned scarf draped over her shoulders and fastened to her dress with a large, garish pin, made up of a large red central stone, slightly irregular in shape, almost heart shaped, surrounded by alternating white stones and lime green stones. The entire pin was outlined in small red stones, their color matching the large central stone. It, like its owner, looked a little shop worn, as if the gold luster was wearing off and the stones were slightly dingy. Claire realized Mrs. Bernbaum had made a valiant attempt to dress for dinner and felt ashamed for being so critical of her. She told herself sternly she should be admiring her spunk for taking this trip at her age instead of being so irritated for getting stuck with her as a dinner partner.

“I’m on a life quest,” Mrs. Bernbaum announced firmly. “That’s why I’m going to Alaska.” She saw the puzzled look on Claire’s face. “You know, the hundred things you want to do before you go? I’ve wanted to go to Alaska. I always meant to go, but with one thing or another I somehow waited until it was too late.”

She let go of Claire’s arm and sat back in her chair. “At least that’s what I thought until Dickie just appeared.” She smiled, glancing over at her nephew, who was engrossed in a conversation on his other side. “He made it all possible. He’s a genius, you know. He’s made my dream come true.”

Claire nodded vaguely, not fully understanding what Mrs. Bernbaum was saying.

“Your nephew just appeared?” she asked tentatively.

Mrs. Bernbaum nodded. “Yes, he’s the son of my husband’s nephew. We never knew about him. I’m afraid his father was not the most responsible person around. Sweet, fun, endearing, but he was totally self-absorbed. We didn’t even know he had a son, but Dickie looks just like his father did at his age. I’d know he was his son even if I hadn’t seen the birth certificate. Apparently he left Dickie’s mother before he even knew Dickie was on the way and so maybe he didn’t even know he had a son. Thank goodness Dickie’s mother kept track. She told Dickie he had relatives in San Francisco in case he wanted to look us up someday. So after his mother died, he did.” Her smile told of her pleasure. “And it was a lucky day for me.”