Separate Cabins by Janet Dailey Page A

them.
    “Did you hear that, Poppa?” the woman was saying. “They call each other Mister and Missus.”
    “The way we used to, eh, Momma.”
    “He called her Mrs. MacKinley,” the woman said again.
    “And she called him Mr. MacKinley,” the man inserted.
    “That’s so nice and old-fashioned, isn’t it?” the woman prompted.
    Suppressing the impulse to walk to their table, Rachel moved in the opposite direction. It hardly mattered that they had the mistaken impression she was married to him. Correcting it might involve a long, detailed explanation and she didn’t want to go into it. Besides, what they had overheard had brought back some fond memories of their early married life. They were happy, so why should she spoil it with a lot of explanations that didn’t really matter to them.
    Shortly after late-sitting breakfast was announced, Rachel entered the dining room and was shown to her assigned table. It was located in a far corner of the room, quiet and away from the flow of traffic to the kitchen and the waiter service areas. Two couples were already sitting at the table for eight when Rachel arrived.
    An exchange of good mornings was followed byintroductions. She was immediately confused as to which woman was Helen and which one was Nanette, and their husbands were named something like John or Frank. Rachel didn’t even make an attempt to remember their last names. Since they would be sharing every meal together from now on, she knew she would eventually get the right names with the right faces.
    While the waiter poured a cup of coffee for her, Rachel glanced over the breakfast menu. A third couple arrived, a young pair in their twenties, compared to what Rachel judged to be the average age of forty for the other four. After they were seated, there was only one vacant chair—the one beside Rachel.
    “I’m Jenny and this is my husband, Don,” the girl said. There was a bright-eyed, playful quality about her that seemed to immediately lighten the atmosphere at the table.
    Her introduction started the roll call around the table again, ending with Rachel. “I’m Rachel MacKinley.” Although the others hadn’t, she tacked on her surname. She supposed it was probably a business habit.
    The waiter hovered by her chair to take her order. “Orange juice, please,” she began. “Some papaya, two basted eggs, and Canadian bacon.”
    When she partially turned in her chair to pass the menu to the waiter, Rachel saw Gard approaching their table. All the ones close to them were filled, so his destination could be none other than the empty chair next to her.
    Something should have forewarned her. Untilthis moment she hadn’t given a thought to where he might be seated. But it was obvious they would be seated at the same table. They had been assigned to the same cabin, so naturally as man and wife, supposedly, they would be assigned to the same table.
    That moment of shocked realization flashed in her eyes, and Gard saw the flicker of surprise in their gray depths. A smile played at the edges of his mouth. Rachel faced the table again and reached for her coffee cup, trying to keep the grim resignation out of her expression.
    “Sorry I’m late,” Gard said to the table in general as he pulled out the vacant chair beside Rachel and sat down. “It took longer to shower and change than I thought. Has everyone ordered?”
    “We just got here, too,” said Jenny, of the young married couple, assuring him quickly that he wasn’t the only late arrival. “I’m Jenny, and this is my husband, Don.”
    The round-robin of names started again, but Rachel stayed out, not needing to introduce herself to him. “I’m Gard MacKinley,” he finished the circle and unfolded the napkin to lay it on his lap. “Is this your first cruise, Jenny?”
    “Yes. It’s kind of a second honeymoon for Don and me,” she explained. So far, Rachel couldn’t recall Jenny’s young husband saying a word. “Actually I guess it is our