“All my favorites,” Roger cried mournfully.
“I’m not saying you can never eat those foods again, Mr. Eaton. You just need to add in more heart-healthy foods, like this vegetable here.” She held up the stalk of broccoli, and Roger eyed it with disdain. “I’d like you to meet my friend here, Ms. Broccoli.” She placed the green blob on the top of the cart and began lining other plastic vegetables next to it.
“Rog and vegetables don’t get along too well,” Grant explained. “They have a hate-hate relationship.”
“Aw,” Jodi replied, petting the broccoli. “That hurts broccoli’s feelings when you say mean things about her like that.”
Roger gawked at the dietitian and began to suspect the three people around him were having fun at his expense.
“Yeah, she’s really good for your body, Rog.” Sophie jumped into the fray. “Ms. Broccoli lurves you.”
“Aren’t those vegetables sexy?” Grant cooed, trying to hold in laughter. “Sexy, sexy veggies. You two need to go on lots of dates together.”
“That’s it, you two. Get out!” Roger ordered.
“You want us to leave, sir?” Grant asked innocently.
“He and Ms. Broccoli need some time alone.” Sophie winked, taking hold of Grant’s arm.
As they headed out the door, Roger called, “Taylor! Get some cash from the ticket vendor by the docks, and stock up the bar before the one o’clock cruise!”
“Will do, Rog,” Sophie nodded.
“I want receipts. And that tequila is coming out of both of your paychecks!”
“Understood, sir,” Grant acknowledged.
The pair left the hospital and walked toward the ship, choosing to forego the city streets and head south along shimmering Lake Michigan instead. Both were quiet, lost in thought. Grant finally spoke. “One thing I like about you is that you don’t talk all the time.”
She looked at him, showing a hint of surprise as well as self-consciousness. “I guess that’s just leftover from my former career. Psychologists tend to listen a lot.”
They walked a little further and Sophie admitted, “I’m thinking about what happened back there. That was a close call, and I’m a little freaked out that I’m going to lose this job. I don’t want to go back, Grant.”
He sighed heavily, nodding in agreement. Returning to prison was his number one fear.
“Frankly I’m just trying to figure out how I got here. How in the world did I end up on parole after serving a year in prison? How did I end up playing waitress on a ship, with no home and no family? It’s plain crazy.” She sighed, but then glanced at Grant. “But I, um … I’m glad I’m not in this alone. I’m grateful you’re here with me.”
He looked genuinely touched, and his piercing eyes seared into her. “I’m trying to work out how I screwed up things so badly in my life too,” he said. “But if not for prison and those awful meetings with Officer Stone, we never would have met. Maybe it was somehow all meant to be.”
Sophie felt like she was floating, as high as a kite. How could one man make her feel so damn good?
They continued on, both with a bounce in their step, actually looking forward to running four cruises, together.
Grant could see the Spire construction site ahead of them, and he turned to Sophie. “How did I describe the Spire last night? That part I simply can’t remember.”
Sophie blushed. “Are you sure you really want to know?”
“Give me the hard truth, please.”
“The hard truth, huh?” She bit her lip, but a few giggles still spilled out. “It’s appropriate that you say that. As I recall, you said the Spire was the most phallic thing ever.” Grant’s eyes widened and Sophie forged ahead. “You told everyone it was a throbbing, um, penis thrusting upward into the sky.”
His jaw dropped.
“You really don’t remember?”
He shook his head and climbed over the railing onto the ship. Time to begin another long workday. “You’re right,” he said. “Drunk Grant is a handful.”
16. Say Uncle
Sophie smiled as she bid farewell to the passengers from the seven o’clock cruise. Today’s cruises had been far less eventful than the previous night’s, and Sophie almost missed the entertainment of a drunken captain at the helm. But they both needed this job, so they’d performed their duties efficiently and with no shenanigans. However, Sophie continued to be impressed by Grant’s narration of the architectural wonders. He seemed to add new information every cruise.
Two women, among the last departing passengers, approached Sophie. One had platinum-blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, with a button nose and big blue eyes. She was shorter and perhaps slightly older than Sophie was, and she nervously clasped Sophie’s forearm. “The guy who was the tour guide—he said his name was Grant. Is he, um, Grant Madsen by any chance?”
Sophie stared at the woman curiously. “Yes, he is.”
“I thought so!” she declared victoriously to her friend. “Could I, um, maybe talk to him?”
Suddenly feeling jealous and somewhat protective of the “guy who was the tour guide,” Sophie squinted and suspiciously inquired, “Do you know him?”
“Yes.” She nodded decisively with increasing confidence. “I’d like to see him. I need to talk to him. He’s up there?” She gestured toward the bridge, beginning to walk in that direction.
“Hold on. I’ll take you to him,” Sophie said, desperately wanting to know how this cute blonde knew Grant.
“Wait a minute!” the blond woman’s brown-haired friend cried, tapping Sophie’s shoulder. “I have a question for you.”
Sophie turned around and was dismayed to see the blonde ascending the stairs. “How can I help you?” Sophie asked politely through gritted teeth.
“I was told there would be singing on this cruise,” the woman said.
“Singing?”
“Yes. My friend Maureen took one of these cruises last night, and she said she had a total blast. The tour guide was leading everybody in a Frank Sinatra song or something?”
A smile crept onto Sophie’s face. Perhaps the drunken singing had been a good idea after all.
Up on the bridge, Grant was placing the microphone headset into a drawer when he noticed a shadow in the doorway. He glanced up. “Ashley?”
Hearing his deep, smooth voice, she grinned and took a step toward him before hesitating. Both stared awkwardly for a moment. Then Grant came to his senses and gave her a quick, chaste hug.
Ashley pulled back, admiring his tall frame and tanned face. “You’re—you’re all grown up. You’re a man now,” she said. “I mean, what has it been? Five years?”
“At least,” he nodded. “How’s Ben?”
“He’s turning sixteen next month.”
Grant’s eyes widened, and he shook his head with wonder. “No, that’s not possible. Sixteen? My nephew is sixteen? God, I feel old.”
Ashley chuckled. “Yep, sixteen. He’s going to be driving soon, so you best avoid the roads in the near future.”
He smiled, but his eyes showed only sadness. Ashley’s grin faded, and she wondered if visiting him had been such a good idea. “How long you been out?”