“Hi, I’m Susan,” I said to the older woman next to me.
She said “Hello. And where do you call home?”
“Idaho, and yours?” I asked.
“Colorado. Are you dining alone?” she asked.
“For tonight I am. I’m traveling with friends and they didn’t want to dress up,” I said.
She nodded.
Another couple sat down to her right and the last couple seated turned out to be my author friend, Alene, from my plane trip.
“Hello,” I said, making a discrete wave toward her. She sat three guests over from me so I knew I wouldn’t be able to talk to her much. So I just mouthed, “I love your book,” to her. She smiled and gestured the ‘OK’ hand sign back to me.
I and the lady next to me talked about our children and she let me taste her white wine.
“It’s a moscato,” she said as if I would know.
My religion doesn’t allow drinking, but I figured God wouldn’t care as long as I believed. I took a sip. The wine was sweet but just not to my taste as I returned the goblet to her on the table. I thanked her and was glad when our meal of roast chicken and vegetables arrived.
After we all ate our main course, Alene and her husband rose out of their chair to leave before the waiter served the dessert. I overheard the waiter say he was insulted that they did not want to stay for dessert. Again I waved her goodbye.
I flagged the server and told him, “My friends are diabetic. If I hear you say such a rude remark again about people you don’t know, I’ll have to talk with your superior.”
“My apologies, madam,” he said, bowing. As he turned to walk away, I called him on it.
“No, you should apologize to them,” I said and then I ate part of my strawberry tart. I’m sure if Alene asked, the waiter could have brought her husband a sugar-free treat. Each to his own, I always tell myself.
“I’m glad you said something. I thought he was rude, too,” said the older lady sitting on my right.
“Thank you, I apologize if I came across rude.”
“Oh no, someone had to put him in his place,” said another man at the table.
I finished my dessert and said goodbye to my tablemates. Wandering outside, I remembered a small bar and an ice cream station toward the stern of the ship. The steward at the ice cream station was not on duty so I decided to check out the ship’s raspberry ice tea from the bar.
I waited while an older woman tried to make up her mind with the patient man behind the counter. He rattled off the various drinks he could create until she decided on a margarita and I was next.
“And what will you have ma’am?”
“Raspberry ice tea. I heard you make good ones,” I said.
“That I do. I’ll need your room key for payment.”
“Yes, of course,” I said, handing over my room’s pass card.
“Here you are. Will there be anything else?” he asked, setting the red drink down in front of me.
“No, but I do have a question if you don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t mind, but I’ll have to stop when a passenger orders a drink.”
He looked like he was in his late thirties or mid-forties still wearing a good head of brown hair. His tight fitting uniform vest made his physique look slender.
“No problem. How long have you worked on this ship?”
“Five years now,” he said as he pulled out a white cloth and wiped down the counter. “Uh, I joined the Swedish Star after my wife passed.”
Was he still thinking of her or would he be looking after five years. I really didn’t want to get into a discussion about deceased spouses, so I continued with my questions.
“Did you ever know a steward by the name of Ivan?” I asked, sipping some of the raspberry tea.
First, he looked at me, and then picked up a glass from the nearby tray and continued to wipe the crystal dry.
“He was a friend of mine, why?” he asked, setting the glass down and choosing another.
“I heard about his death. I’m so sorry. Were you close?” I asked.
“He grew up in Europe, but we had some good times together. He liked to fish. One time we managed to have a vacation together at my daughter’s home in Colorado. I drove him up into the hills and we had a good time. I think he caught the largest trout I have ever seen in a long time,” he related.
“That’s wonderful. By working on this ship, do you miss your children?” I asked, sipping my tea.
“Occasionally. I can get discounts for them to travel with me. Two are grown and have jobs,” he said.
“How many do you have?”
“Just three. How about you?”
“I have one. My husband passed away over a year ago. A car accident,” I said without getting into details and I really didn’t want to talk about that.
“Sorry for your loss. My wife had cancer. She went too fast. But now I have this job, I get to meet wonderful people, such as yourself and travel the world,” he said.
“I’d like to ask you more about Ivan if I may?”
“Yes?” he replied, wiping down some more washed glasses.
“Was he thin? Olive skin...a gracious gentleman?”
“Much thinner than me. I’ve put on a few pounds since Corrine died. Why do you ask?”
“Uh, I read about him in the newspaper. I truly am sorry for your friend’s death.”
He stopped wiping the glass he was holding and stared at me.
“I’ll leave if you think I’m bothering you,” I said, sliding off the stool.
“No, it’s nice to have someone that I can talk to about him.”
“Did he work around here or someplace else?”
“Uh, he had the evening shift here and sometimes he would oversee the cabins on the ninth and tenth decks.”
“From his photo in the newspaper, he seemed professional or polite,” I said, sipping the last of my raspberry tea.
“That he was. He said
