She scooped his hand into hers, and their fingers intertwined. The warm touch calmed their nerves, and Grant softly stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, causing a chill of excitement to journey up Sophie’s arm into her chest.
They heard a loud guffaw as Roger emerged from the bridge with Jerry trailing behind him. The parolees immediately scattered, finding random tasks to busy themselves as the two men headed down the stairs and strolled toward them.
“Quit pretending you’re actually working and come say goodbye to your PO,” Roger called out.
Coming together from the port and starboard sides of the ship, Sophie and Grant stood at a respectful distance from each other. “It appears you two passed this little inspection,” their PO informed them. They nodded with relief.
“Can I tell my roommate, Kirsten, when we should expect your home visit, Officer Stone?” Sophie ventured.
Jerry raised one eyebrow. “Now that wouldn’t be any fun, would it? See you both tomorrow morning in my office. Be on time.”
“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison.
After the long arm of the law had departed, all three breathed a sigh of relief.
“You should have warned me the po-po would visit!” Roger grumbled.
“But we didn’t know,” Grant countered. “We were just as surprised.”
“How are you feeling, Rog?” Sophie asked.
“Like shit,” he wheezed. “But I’ve been gone too long, and I had to check things out as soon as Nurse Ratched discharged me. Where the hell are Tommy and Dan?”
“They’ll be here soon,” Grant promised, hoping Tommy was not too late and Dan actually showed up for once. Apparently Roger’s absence had not exactly inspired hard work in the two men. But Grant and Sophie had been operating the business quite adeptly on their own.
“Well, we got one hour to show time,” Rog growled. “I’m going to meet with the ticketing company to find out how much money you two lost me. And when I come back, I’ll be observing you sorry parolees at work. I want to watch you play docent, Madsen, and you better knock my socks off if you want to keep this job.”
Roger turned and Grant stared after him fretfully.
“You gotta do it, Grant,” Sophie encouraged.
“What? I can’t do it with him watching me!”
“You have to. There’s a reason we’re selling out all the time now. You know it.”
Grant brought his hands to his hips and exhaled loudly. “You’re going to get us both fired, Bonnie.”
She was grateful to find a twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes. “C’mon, Clyde,” she urged. “I’ll help you clean the bathrooms.”
*
“That is, of course, Lake Michigan ahead of us,” Grant said into the headset microphone, “the only Great Lake entirely within the boundary of the United States. The lake is the fifth largest in the world, slightly larger than the country of Croatia. Do we have anyone from Croatia on the cruise today?”
Grant glanced at Rog, who sat at the controls, watching him intently.
“Just pretend I’m not here,” Roger had instructed. Yeah, right.
Roger was eating baby carrots—with a vengeance, taking his anger out on the hapless vegetables with ferocious chomping and gnashing. Grant took a deep breath and continued his narration.
“Perhaps there are no Croatians onboard today, but we’ve had folks from all over the world on this cruise. This is not surprising given that tourism is one of Chicago’s top industries. I’ve been asked if there are any shipwrecks in Lake Michigan, and there are many. There are also plane wrecks in the lake, as Navy Pier was used to train pilots on aircraft carrier takeoffs and landings during World War II.”
Roger raised his eyebrows as he began turning the ship to starboard, heading inland on the Chicago River. Grant was providing far greater detail than Roger typically shared, and a quick glance at the passengers told the older man that the rich commentary was well received. Roger grumpily bit into another carrot.
“What you’re seeing all around you was formerly swampland, folks,” Grant explained. “In fact, the name Chicago comes from the Native American word chicagoo, meaning a wretched and smelly swamp.”
Sophie served two sodas and listened happily to Grant’s confident narrative, feeling a bounce in her step after their morning kiss. With a light breeze swaying her ponytail, the bright sun beating on the back of her neck, and all hope restored in her relationship with Grant, she could work one hundred cruises without tiring.
Grant finally forgot about Roger sitting next to him and simply connected with his love for the amazing city he described. “This land around you is named Ogden Slip, which refers to William Ogden, the first mayor of Chicago. He was responsible for much of the construction and restoration that took place here. And straight ahead of us is the Trump International Hotel and Tower. Trump’s beautiful hotel lobby features the enticing aroma of vanilla candles.”
Grant went into his Donald Trump impression, and they continued their hour-long journey down the river. Roger sat silently, but felt amazed to learn quite a few facts about the city, despite having owned the business for almost ten years.
As they headed back to the dock, Grant delivered a tasteful tale about the construction of the Spire, then grew suddenly quiet. He stole a nervous glance at Roger, who was preoccupied with the navigation of the ship, then walked to the rear of the bridge to glance down at the passenger section.
As if she sensed him staring at her, Sophie looked up from her tray of empty cups and their eyes locked. She smiled her support that he follow through on their unspoken agreement. She nodded at him, and he reluctantly nodded back.
Grant returned to the mic and—closing his eyes for courage—announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your attention this afternoon. We will be docking soon, and I’d like to leave you with a song.”
Grant saw Roger’s eyes dart toward him, narrowing warily.
His voice as smooth as silk, Grant started into his standard crowd-pleaser, Sinatra’s “My Kind of Town.” Sophie silently mouthed the words along with him, hoping that when Grant sang about what could “only happen in Chicago,” he was referring to meeting her.
“Everyone, join in!” Grant cajoled, and once the passengers heard the familiar refrain, quite a few sang along. Chicago was their kind of town too.
Roger docked the ship, and the jovial passengers began to disembark. Tommy and Sophie stood by the exit, thanking them for their patronage.
Grant took off the headset, feeling an oppressive silence between him and his boss. Roger’s face was completely unreadable, and Grant had no idea how to interpret his current lack of cursing.
After a few moments, Roger ordered, “Get Taylor up here. I want to talk to you both.”
Nodding, Grant replied, “Yes, sir,” and descended the steps to collect his partner in crime. Soon they both stood before their boss, putting on their best brave faces.