Carruthers had spoken to her about taking a leave of absence when the scandal broke nearly a month ago. She had suggested, and they had agreed, that she would take several weeks of unused vacation time to allow matters “to sort themselves out.”
Who knows what will happen after they see the article tomorrow? she wondered.
She did not sleep at all that night.
14
Yvonne and her friends enjoyed an after-dinner drink together in the Prince George Lounge. It was late when she returned to her suite, and Roger was not there. He probably couldn’t wait to get to the casino, she thought. She was sure he had rushed down there as soon as Lady Em left for her room. He had always been a gambler, but now it was getting worrisome. She didn’t care what he did with his time, just as long as he continued to support their lifestyle.
She was already in bed, but not yet asleep, when the door opened and he came in, smelling heavily of liquor.
“?’Yvonne,” he said, his voice unsteady.
“Keep your voice down. You’ll wake up the dead,” she said sharply, then added, “Did you lose again tonight? I know you were dying to get down there.”
“None of your business,” he snapped.
On that cordial note, Roger and Yvonne Pearson finished their first evening aboard Queen Charlotte.
15
At Willy’s suggestion he and Alvirah decided to skip the entertainment this evening. Instead he wanted to give Alvirah the ring he had bought her for their forty-fifth anniversary.
Back in their suite, he opened the bottle of champagne that had been their “Welcome Aboard” gift. He poured two glasses and handed one to Alvirah. “To the happiest forty-five years of my life,” he toasted. “I could never live a day without you, honey.”
Alvirah’s eyes misted. “No more than I could live a day without you, Willy,” she said fervently, then watched as he reached in his pocket for a small wrapped box. Now, don’t tell him that he shouldn’t have done it, and it was too much money, she warned herself.
When he handed the box to her, she unwrapped it slowly, then opened the lid to see an oval-shaped sapphire surrounded by small diamonds.
“Oh, Willy,” she sighed.
“It’s going to fit,” Willy said proudly. “I brought along one of your other rings to be absolutely sure. You saw the gemologist who helped me select it at the next table tonight. She was that very pretty girl with the black hair. Her name is Celia Kilbride.”
“Oh, I did notice her,” Alvirah breathed. “How could you miss her? Wait a minute, isn’t she the one whose boyfriend cheated everyone with his hedge fund?”
“Yes, she is.”
“Oh, that poor girl,” Alvirah exclaimed as she took a sip of champagne. “I’ve got to get to know her.”
She slipped on the ring. “Oh, Willy, it’s perfect, and I love it.”
Willy let out a sigh of relief. She didn’t ask me how much it cost, he thought. But it wasn’t that bad at all. Ten thousand dollars. Celia told me it was one that a woman sold after her mother died. It would be worth much more, except that it has a scratch you can only see under a microscope.
Alvirah had a new thought. “Willy, that poor Devon Michaelson. I predict that Anna DeMille is going to try his soul. She heard that he has his wife’s ashes to scatter into the ocean. My guess is that she’d love to toss them over for him. She’s going to haunt him every day,” Alvirah continued. “Of course, I can understand why she might want to get married again, and he’s an attractive man. But she’s going about it the wrong way.”
“Honey, I beg you, don’t start giving her advice. Stay out of it.”
“I’d like to help, but you’re right. However, I do intend to get friendly with Lady Emily. I’ve read so much about her.”
Willy did not try to dissuade Alvirah this time. He knew perfectly well that by the end of the trip, Alvirah would be Lady Emily’s new best friend.
Day Two
16
The 7 A.M. activity the next morning was a yoga class. Celia had barely begun to doze but had forced herself to get up and attend. About twenty people had shown up.
She was not surprised to see that the teacher was Betty Madison, a famous yoga instructor who had written a bestselling book on the topic. No amateurs on this ship, she thought, as she unrolled her mat and settled in place. Nor on any of the other cruise ships on which she had lectured. On those trips she had invited her close friend Joan LaMotte to accompany her. This time she had not dared to ask her. Joan and her husband had lost two hundred fifty thousand dollars in Steven’s fund.
Same amount I lost, Celia thought, but I was the Judas goat who led the lambs to slaughter.
There were so many signs, she thought. Why didn’t I see them? Why did I always give him the benefit of the doubt? Steven and I enjoyed doing things together: museums, movies, theater, and jogging in Central Park. When we did things with other couples, they were always with my friends. His friends from his early years, he explained, had stayed in Texas. And Steven believed it was good practice to not socialize with his work colleagues outside the office. “More professional” was how he described it.
With the benefit of hindsight it was abundantly clear why they hadn’t socialized with Steven’s friends. He didn’t have any. The small number of his “friends” who came to the rehearsal dinner knew him from an evening basketball league he played in one night each week and from his workout class at the gym.
When the yoga session was over, Celia went back to her cabin and ordered breakfast. The ship’s daily four-page news digest had been slipped under her door during the night. She feared that in the Wall Street section there might be an item about the interview Steven gave People. It would surely be a sensational piece of gossip. She opened it and was relieved to see that there was no mention of Steven.
But wait until tomorrow when People hits the stands. It was a recurrent thought, like a drumbeat in her head.
17
Captain Ronald Fairfax had sailed with the Castle Lines for twenty years. Every one of his ships had been top-of-the-line, but Queen Charlotte surpassed them all. Instead of following the lead of other cruise lines, like Carnival, building many supersized vessels that held more than three thousand passengers, on Charlotte the number had been limited to one hundred, far smaller than the old first-class ships had been.
That, of course, was why so many celebrities were on board, anxious to be counted as exclusive guests on the maiden voyage.
Captain Fairfax had gone to sea the day after he finished college in London. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a full head of pure white hair and a somewhat weather-beaten face, he was an impressive man. He was widely regarded as a superb captain and a marvelous host who walked easily among the most exalted guests.