I’m actually speechless. Is Caleb hearing this, too? I look over at him, but he’s already smirking back at me, his expressionsoft, but not self-satisfied. Within his gaze is just a hint that, behind those milky blue eyes, Satan’s henchman might have something like a soul.
“You girls look so beautiful,” Patricia says as she ties off her finished necklace and places it over Adi’s neck. “Now, who can show me the fastest way back to the Marine Center?”
17
We make it back to the Center before Arthur can tear out what little hair he has left and say our goodbyes to Joanna and Chris. But by the time we get back to the ship, the tale of Patricia’s little escapade has evolved into a full-on epic. Somehow each time the story is told, it becomes more harrowing. Caleb and I had to hikehoursinto the virgin jungle to find her (fifteen minutes, at best). Harry and my sister scoured miles of beach in search of their peerless matriarch. Uphill both ways, obviously.
The way the Warrens are recounting it to the crew, their smiling mouths using up their monthly quota of positive emotion at all once, I’m starting to think her disappearance somehow made them like the day evenmore.Maybe when you have more money than God, a little adversity once in a while is a welcome change.
When I head back to my cabin to shower, I find that one of my sundresses has been steamed and laid out on my bed with a pink orchid blossom beside it.Gia. I smile, pulling on the sherbet-colored dress and tucking the flower behind my ear. I’m planning to find an empty deck and sit out with my sketchbook,but when I take the stairs up, I hear Steven calling my name from outside.
I follow his voice to the bow, where the whole family is gathered around a tiki-themed setup the crew must have prepared while we were gone. Colorful lanterns hang from the rails and fragrant, purple flowers line the table where Harry and his parents are seated. A few feet away, Jules, Matthew and Steven are lounging on multicolored, Balinese pillows with champagne glasses in hand.
“There she is!” Harry calls out to me. “Queen of the coral!”
Jules waves me over to her.
“Come sit, Stelly!”
She holds out an empty champagne flute for me as I lower myself next to her, her dark Chanel glasses reflect the light bouncing off her massive engagement ring in a six-figure disco triangle.
“What a day,” I sigh as Steven pours me some Veuve Cliquot from the chilled bottle. Before this moment, the fanciest champagne I’ve had has been from the refrigerated section at Viomart, so I’m feeling extra fancy.
“You’re telling me,” Jules says low enough that the others can’t hear. “I’ve never seen Arthur so stressed. Can you imagine if we actuallylostPatricia?”
“Actually,” Matthew says jokingly, “I’ve fantasized about it repeatedly.”
“Speaking of search parties,” Steven leans over towards me conspiratorially. “How was your jungle walk with our intrepid Captain? Hot? Steamy?”
“What?” I stammer a little too loudly, hoping my sunglasses hide my guilt.
“I saw you two lingering on the deck after we came back from the island. Hoping to catch yourself a knotty seaman?”
“No!” I protest. “I would never.Hewould never… He’s really not my type.”
“What, foreign and objectively hot?” Matthew jokes. “Stella, if we’re going to be relatives, you’ve at least got to get better at lying.”
Wait. Did Matthew just acknowledge me as a future relative?
“She’s not lying,” Jules backs me up. “She’s more into dry, pandering academics.”
Steven snorts out a laugh.
“Probably for the best,” he follows up. “You don’t want to know what Patricia does to maritime fornicators.”
“RIP Christopher,” Matthew adds.
“Who’s Christopher?” I ask.
“Exactly,” Matthew continues. “He was a friend of Harry’s who used to come with us on a lot of our trips. My parentsadoredhim, until Mom caught him getting knotty with the chief stew. That was the end of her career. And the last invite he ever got.”
Knotty is right—I can feel one the size of a lime growing in the back of my throat.
“Yikes,” Jules says. “Why was it such a big deal? They were both adults, right?”
“Because if you haven’t noticed, my mom is a control freak,” he answers. “Shehatesfor anything to be going on behind her back. Doesn’t even let the crew have visible tattoos, for Christ’s sake. Shedefinitelywouldn’t want word getting out about a member of her pristine crew dishing it out after dark.”
“What happened to the stew?” I ask, not sure I want to hear the answer.
