emeralds dangled from her ears. Her outfit was outlandish and otherworldly. Helen couldn’t guess the designer, but the clothes and jewelry shrieked money.
This must be Beth, the former model married to Earl Briggs.
Beth’s dramatic entrance was spoiled by the yapping white furball she cradled like a baby. Mitzi, the miniature poodle, Helen decided. The dog had a green bow in her curly white hair and a collar of dime-sized emeralds.
Beth took the arm of a portly fellow with a majestic belly and a noble forehead. Winged black eyebrows underpinned that great expanse of brow. Earl Briggs, the yacht owner.
Beth didn’t walk in her high-heeled sandals. She strutted. The world was her runway. Earl looked proud to plod beside his exotic spouse. He wore the satisfied smile of a man who had everything.
Beth and Earl walked arm in arm up to the captain. “Evening, Captain,” Earl said in a flat Midwestern accent.
Earl fought to drown out the noisy dog. “I assume we’re leaving at nine tonight?”
“I wanted to talk to you about that, sir,” Josiah said, over Mitzi’s yips and yaps. “We may want to delay our departure by a few hours.”
“Why?” Earl asked. “It’s a beautiful night.” The eyebrows took wing and a frown flitted across his wide brow.
The frown deepened.
“It’s perfectly calm,” Earl said. His own calm seemed to be receding fast.
Earl winced slightly, then asked, “So what’s the problem, Captain?” The frown dug deep furrows in his brow.
Mitzi’s yaps grew into poodle pandemonium. Earl turned to his wife and said calmly, “Beth, keep that damned dog quiet before I shut it up permanently.”
Beth backed away slightly and cuddled the poodle in her arms. “Sh! We must be quiet, baby,” she told Mitzi. “I know you had a difficult flight, but your daddy had a hard day, too. He makes the money for you and your daddy’s tired.”
“I am not the father of a damned dog!” Earl howled. Beth flinched.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Earl said. “Can’t you keep her quiet until I finish this conversation?”
Beth nodded.
“Now, Captain,” Earl commanded, “explain why we can’t leave at nine tonight.”
“We’re expecting rough seas, sir,” Josiah said. “They’re due to wind, not a storm system. Once we leave the coast of Florida, we’ll be in four- to six-foot waves. You may want to wait until the sea is completely laid down.”
“Is it safe to cruise?” Earl asked.
“It’s safe, but it could be uncomfortable,” Josiah said. “This trip will be similar to the last cruise back from Atlantis. If we wait five hours until the waves calm down, we’ll have a smooth crossing. We’ll still get into port tomorrow—about two o’clock in the afternoon.”
“And if we leave at nine tonight?” Earl asked.
“We’ll make it about ten in the morning,” Josiah said.
“We’ll lose half a day’s gambling if we wait,” Earl said. He turned to his guests. “What do you think?”
“Hell, I’m no coward.” Thin and dry as beef jerky, this man had thick unnaturally white hair and a gin-burned face.
“Nor I,” said the older woman next to him. She was a match for her mate: so thin she looked freeze-dried. Her wrinkles and iron gray hair were proudly untouched. Her deck shoes and navy-striped Lilly Pulitzer pants and shirt seemed practical after Beth’s unearthly outfit. Helen guessed they were Ralph and Rosette, Earl’s society friends.
“I’m no wuss. I want to start gambling.” The third man’s dome was aggressively bare and wreathed in cigar smoke, like clouds around a mountaintop. “As long as the scotch holds out, we’ll be fine.”
That must be Scotty, Helen thought. The fluffy blonde clutching his arm was his young wife, Pepper. She whimpered and her pink ruffles trembled. “I don’t like being seasick,” she said. Her face was hidden in waves of golden hair. “Can’t we wait a little?” Pepper kissed Scotty’s large, hairy ear. “Please?”
“Now, kitten, be good,” Scotty said, “and I’ll buy you something pretty at Atlantis.”
“Emeralds?” Her eyes glittered with greed. “I like Beth’s emeralds. Even her dog has bigger emeralds than me.”
“Then we’ll get you the biggest emeralds we can find,” Scotty said, as if he were promising a child ice cream. “Once we get to the Bahamas, you can have lots of nice shopping. The captain and I won’t let anything bad happen.”
Helen expected him to pat Pepper on her head.
“Well, it’s unanimous, Captain,” Earl said. “Everyone wants to leave at nine tonight. If it’s safe to cross, we don’t care about a little discomfort.”
The men didn’t, anyway.
“Yes, sir,” the captain said, his face expressionless. Helen suspected Josiah was a crafty poker player.
Matt, the bosun, and Sam, the deckhand, stood ready to carry the guests’ luggage into the yacht. Matt was generically handsome, a catalog model with neat brown hair and regular features.
Sam was eye candy. His white uniform didn’t hide his ripped chest and bulging calves, and it definitely set off his bronze tan. He had a roguish smile and sun-bleached hair.
Helen couldn’t take her eyes off Sam. Neither could Pepper. Helen saw the fluffy blonde eye him like a starving woman staring at a steak. Her hips had a little extra swing when she pattered past Sam in her pink stilettos.
The rest of the crew lined up like a nautical receiving line, starting with Carl, the first mate. Andrei, the Bulgarian first engineer, had dark hair and swarthy, pitted skin. Dick, the second engineer, was a stair step down in rank and height. Chef Suzanne Schoomer, looking lost outside her galley, towered above him. Helen stood beside the chef.
The chief stewardess, Mira, had put on a new smile to greet the guests. This one looked forced. She balanced a tray of Baccarat champagne flutes. Louise, the second stewardess, was so small Helen wondered how she could support the heavy tray of salmon mousse appetizers.
The owner Earl nodded at the crew and lumbered inside. Beth stopped in front of Helen and said, “You’re the new stewardess. Here. Mitzi needs a walk.” She plopped the squirming poodle in Helen’s arms. The dog yapped and scratched Helen’s arm, trying to escape.
Helen hung on. If she lost that dog, she’d lose her job. “But—” She started to say she was supposed to unpack the guests’ luggage, then stopped. The owner outranked Mira.
The chief stewardess intervened. “Helen has to unpack the guests’ luggage,” she reminded the owner’s wife.
“Oh, the girls can unpack,” Beth said. “They have to put away their jewelry, anyway. I’ll take them downstairs. Helen can help them after she walks Mitzi.” She pulled an emerald-studded leash out of her purse and hooked it to the dog’s collar. Mitzi whimpered.
“Go on,” she said, shooing Helen down the gangplank. “Walk Mitzi before we cruise. Then give her a bowl of bottled water.” The dog whined and circled Helen’s legs, tangling her in the leash.
“We’ve laid in Evian for her,” Mira said.
“She doesn’t drink Evian now,” Beth said. “It upsets her tummy. She prefers Fiji water. I hope you have some on hand.”
“We have six kinds of bottled water,” Mira said, “including Veen, 10 Thousand BC and Bling H2O. Paris Hilton gives Tinkerbell Bling.”
