“She’s hiding something,” Marlie declares, peering over at Harper’s notebook. “Look at the way she shields the page when she writes. Classic guilty behavior. I used that exact gesture in season twenty-four when Victoria was keeping a secret ledger of her enemies.”
I try not to react to Marlie’s commentary as the train climbs higher, curving around the mountainside to reveal views that make even Harper pause her pen strokes. Waterfalls cascade down sheer rocks as the mist creates rainbows that hang in the air like nature’s special effects department showing off.
“Wow, it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I try again.
“I suppose it’s aesthetically pleasing,” Harper concedes. “Although the economic impact of tourism on these isolated communities creates a fascinating dependency dynamic.”
I can’t help but make a face at her response. It’s like the woman was programmed instead of birthed.
Nettie whispers to Bess from behind, “Is she always this much fun at parties? Because I’d rather drink antifreeze.”
Bess titters, and believe me, I’m tempted, too. “She probably schedules her smiles two weeks in advance.”
I stifle a laugh and notice that Harper’s notes have taken on a more structured format. She’s creating what looks like a timeline, with names I recognize—Val, Beth, Dirk, even my own—scattered throughout.
“Are you documenting the cruise?” I ask, trying to catch a glimpse of more details.
Harper closes the notebook with a snap. “In a manner of speaking.”
The train enters a tunnel, plunging us momentarily into darkness before emerging onto a spectacular mountain plateau. A waterfall thunders past, so close it seems we could touch it through the window. And for the love of all things good, I pray Nettie doesn’t attempt it. I would really love for her to get back to the ship with all of her limbs intact.
“The Kjosfossen waterfall,” Harper identifies without consulting a guide. “Traditionally believed to be home to the Huldra, a seductive forest creature who lures men to their doom.”
“Sounds like a guy I dated in college,” I quip.
It sounds like Tinsley, but I keep that quip to myself.
The corner of Harper’s mouth twitches—not quite a smile, but more like a distant cousin. It’s progress, I suppose.
As we climb higher, the landscape becomes increasingly dramatic. The mountains close in on both sides, their peaks disappearing into low-hanging clouds. Evergreen forests cling to impossible angles on the slopes, and waterfalls appear around every bend, crashing down rock faces in white torrents. Passengersoohandaahat each new vista, while camera crews scramble to capture both the scenery and our reactions to it.
“Cut!” Boomer shouts as we reach a particularly scenic stretch. “This is boring. Where’s the conflict? Harper, say something judgmental about Trixie’s life choices. Trixie, get defensive.”
“I’m not particularly interested in Trixie’s life choices,” Harper says coolly.
“And I’m surprisingly unbothered by Harper’s lack of interest,” I add.
Boomer looks like he might cry. “Work with me, people! This is reality television, not a scenic railway documentary!”
“Perhaps if you provided more structured parameters for our interaction,” Harper suggests, “the results would be more to your liking.”
“Just argue about something!” Boomer pleads before retreating to confer with his team of camera operators.
“He’s not very good at his job, is he?” Harper points out once he’s out of earshot.
“He’s much better at capturing existing drama than creating it,” I agree.
“Hmm.” Harper makes another note in her book.
“For heaven’s sake,” Marlie exclaims, floating up to hover near the ceiling of the train. “This is painful to watch. Ask her about Madison’s secrets! Ask about the other wives! Do something before I die of boredom—which, considering I’m already dead, would be quite the accomplishment.”
The train begins to slow as we approach the top station at Myrdal. Passengers prepare to disembark, some to connect to other trains, others to explore the mountain hiking trails.
“We’re taking a side excursion to the Stegastein Viewpoint,” Boomer announces, appearing at our seats. “The bus is waiting outside the station. It’s a glass platform that juts out from the mountain. It’s perfect for dramatic confrontations with vertigo-inducing backgrounds.”
“How subtle,” I mutter.
The train comes to a complete stop, and Harper stands abruptly. “I need to make a call. I’ll meet you at the bus.”
