get their refund for their cancelled St. Maarten tours. I’ve got to go check the list. Can you believe people are actually coming up to me and asking about that?” He shook his head. “I’ll see you, Joe.”
“Yeah, I’ll see you. Just take it one day at a time, buddy.”
Like me, Joe thought .
***
Dale Simpson went to the Tour Desk and checked the Paradis Travel list of guests against the list of those who had booked either the Phillipsburg Shopping Tour or the Explore St. Maarten bus tour. To his relief, every agency guest was accounted for by name and number of tickets. The Tour Desk assured him that all would be credited back the full amount they’d prepaid for the cancelled tours.
At least that was off his mind…“least” being the operative word.
Dale hurried back to his cabin, which was a complimentary mini-suite on Deck 10. Miguel, the cabin steward, had been there in his absence and cleaned everything. As usual, he’d twisted a beige towel into the shape of an animal and left it on the center of the bed. This time it was a dachshund adorned with tiny white plastic sunglasses. The stupid dog seemed to symbolize everything that was wrong. Dale snatched it off the bed and threw it against the wall.
He went to the bar and made himself another vodka and tonic. He put ice, vodka and then tonic in a short tumbler, looked at it for a few seconds, and then dumped the whole thing into a bigger glass, topping it off with more vodka. Grabbing the drink, he went to the sliding glass door, opened it and stepped out on the balcony. He sat on a deck chair and stared at the clouds that were gathering on the horizon. There were just a few white puffs, but somehow they seemed ominous. He took a deep, comforting swallow of vodka.
Dale Simpson was scared. In spite of all his planning to be free of Adrienne, there was no joy now that she was gone. On the contrary, Dale felt as if Adrienne was reaching out from her watery grave to clutch him and pull him in with her.
* * * * *
CHAPTER 20
“A nything else you need, Captain Collier?”
“No. That’ll be all, Captain Houghton,” Andrew Collier said, quickly closing his computer screen. Alan Houghton was the Staff Captain, head of the Deck Department and second in command onboard. He would be on the bridge tonight, giving Andrew a sorely needed break. Ever since the MOB, there had been no rest for the Commander.
Always reluctant to share his personal life, Andrew didn’t care to have people reading his email over his shoulder. This particular one was from his son, Kyle, twenty-nine, who was just beginning to understand the break-up of his parents’ marriage fifteen years ago when Andrew was forty. His younger son, Jake, was unforgiving, but Andrew had hopes of changing that over time.
The divorce hadn’t been Andrew’s idea, but the sea was a jealous mistress. When he became a captain, the extra months away proved too much for Susan. At first, the mere thought of being permanently separated from his sons, who were only fourteen and ten at the time, cut to the quick, but he accepted his wife’s decision graciously.
Although he was faithful with their support, the boys had refused to see him or even speak to him for several years. That was a terribly painful time, but now that they were older and more mature - especially Kyle - Andrew was trying hard to rebuild his relationship with them, albeit by telephone and the internet.
At least that’s going well , he thought, considering recent events onboard.
As commanding officer, Andrew was acutely aware of his responsibility for the efficient operation of Holiday Cruise Lines’ $800 million ship, Mystral. Paramount in his mind was the welfare and safety of the nearly four thousand people onboard. He had been absolutely sickened by the recent disaster involving the Costa cruise ship, Concordia, which had veered from of its approved course and run aground off the Italian coast, ultimately listing
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