Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
I look to my bedroom door. The sleek paneling, the crystal knob.
“I had no idea,” I tell her. “I haven’t made it that far yet.”
I sound dumbstruck, or maybe just dumb. I’m still playing catch-up.
When I arrived at the dock this morning, I was a half hour late, and it took me another twenty minutes in the blazing heat to find where exactly I was supposed to board the ship.
“This entrance is for staff only.”
“Provisions unload here, dear; you need to head back that way.”
“Oh, sorry, you’ve gone too far.”
I was already sweating and anxious when I found the short line of invited press waiting to be checked in. Of course it annoyed me further that everyone else seemed to look as though they belonged. No nervous newbies in the bunch, just a bunch of old classmates and friends. Yay! Men clapped each other on the shoulders. Women smiled with ease. At the top of the gangway—just as a bead of sweat rolled down my chest beneath my bra—I was greeted by a dozen uniformed staff all in a line. A cheery blonde woman promptly stepped forward to greet me by name.
She introduced herself as Ingrid, and she explained she would serve as my butler for the duration of our ten-day cruise.
“Now, Ms. Hughes, if you’ll follow me, I’ll lead the way to your suite.” Ingrid’s accent was clipped and formal with a hint of what I suspected to be Scandinavian roots. “Jacques here will take care of your luggage.”
Already, a strong hand was lifting my duffel bag and suitcases away from me. Panic spiked my blood. “Oh! My laptop’s in there!”
Ingrid smiled in understanding. “Jacques will be along shortly. Have no fear.”
It’s a rich-person thing to lose sight of your valuable belongings. I can’t easily afford to replace my laptop, so, therefore, I don’t make a habit of parting with it very often. Still, it felt silly to argue with her in front of everyone, so I swallowed down my resignation and handed off my bags to the capable-looking Jacques before allowing Ingrid to lead me on board.
On the way to my suite, I barely had time to register the overwhelming opulence of the ship. Ingrid was walking too fast. I’d take note of a painting—Could that really be a Picasso?—or a gargantuan crystal chandelier that seemed to be levitating midair, and then we’d curve around another corner or wind up another flight of stairs, making our way to deck seven. We talked on the way—well, she talked. She let me know how excited she was about her new position on board Aurelia and that she was a mom of two teenage boys, and when I seemed shocked by that, she whispered her age. I couldn’t believe it. She looked so young!
This immediately put me in her good graces. “I avoid the sun at all costs,” she explained with a wink.
Outside room 602, she scanned a thin silver key card and pushed open the door to allow me to walk in before her.
My jaw dropped, and I blacked out a little as she droned on about the suite’s accommodations: “innovative curved windows surround the living areas, giving the effect of indoor-outdoor living”; “one of the largest balconies on board”; “separate bedroom and bathroom”; “walk-in shower and whirlpool bath”; “writing desk”; “complimentary laundry, pressing, and wet cleaning.”
And what about dry cleaning? I almost asked, just to poke fun at the absurdity.
I just stood there, unmoving, trying to find the breath that had suddenly vacated my lungs.
She wasn’t even done yet. She was explaining the Wi-Fi access to me when I cut her off.
“Are you sure you have it right?” I asked her with a funny little laugh. “This room is probably for dignitaries or . . . or presidents. Have you mixed me up with a celebrity or something?”
People sometimes think I look like a mixture of Emma Watson and Emilia Clarke. It’s the catlike curve of my blue eyes and my pronounced cheekbones. They want to belong on a more notable face. Maybe Ingrid was confused.
I expected her to smack herself on the forehead and apologize for the blunder before shoving me belowdecks, to a cramped cabin stuffed between the boiler room and the communal toilet. I’d get a squeaky cot and a scratchy blanket.
Instead, she grinned. “These are your accommodations for the duration of your stay on board Aurelia, Ms. Hughes. Jacques will be up shortly with your bags. If you should need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to contact me. There’s a button beside the phone in the living room as well as one on the nightstand in your bedroom. Think of it as a butler’s bell. Just press it, and I’ll be here in the blink of an eye.”
She walked over to the long console table in the foyer and started to neatly arrange items from inside the folder she brought along with her. “Here is your key card along with your press packet. Inside, you’ll find a badge and detailed itinerary, map of the ship, and most importantly, your emergency protocols. You can access the muster drill on your suite’s television. It needs to be viewed within the next hour, prior to our departure.”