Separate Cabins (2 page)

There were minor changes in Fan’s appearance. Her blonde hair no longer flowed silkenly to her waist; it was shorter and styled in a sophisticated French sweep. Her once pencil-thin figure was now well rounded but still slender. And Fan was the
same person, actively involved in a half dozen projects at once and managing to successfully juggle them all. The quickest way to make an enemy of her was by still calling her Fanny instead of Fan, an appellation she hated.

“I look like exactly what I am—a country club mother of four children, wife of a successful attorney with a flourishing law practice, and committee member of a dozen charities. All the conventional things I vowed I would never be . . . until I met John. And I couldn’t be happier and more fulfilled than I am now,” she declared with a serenely contented smile.

“Sometimes I wonder where the years have gone.” Rachel turned her wistful gray eyes to the pale blue sky and stared, lost in its infinity. “Graduation seems like only yesterday. I turn around, and here I am—thirty-two years old and—” She had been about to say “alone,” but she stopped herself.

“And about to embark on a glorious seven-day cruise down the Mexican Riviera,” Fan finished the sentence for her, deliberately steering it away from any potentially depressing thought.

Recognizing her friend’s intention, Rachel swung her gaze around and smiled in silent gratitude of Fan’s understanding. “I don’t actually believe I’m going yet,” she admitted with a touch of wryness. “I probably won’t believe it until the ship leaves and I’m on it.”

Her comment seemed to explain her lack of enthusiasm. She’d planned vacations before, but something had always come up at the last minute, forcing her to cancel. A small frown of concentration
lay upon her features as Rachel mentally went over her checklist to see if she had overlooked any item that might now crop up.

“This time you’re going,” Fan stated. “John and I are personally going to make certain you are on the
Pacific Princess
when she leaves. After all I went through making the reservations and picking up your ticket last week, you’re going.”

Rachel smiled absently at the firm avowal. Something was nagging at her, holding any eager anticipation for the trip at bay. It darkened her gray eyes, giving them a vaguely troubled and faraway look.

“You could look a little more excited,” her friend accused.

“Sorry.” She flashed a glance at Fan, still slightly preoccupied. “I have this feeling I’ve forgotten something.”

“I don’t know what it could be.” Now it was the blonde who frowned as she considered the possibilities. “Mrs. Pollock, next door, already has the key so she can water your houseplants. And you’ve arranged to have your mail held at the post office until you come back. You did check to make sure your passport hasn’t expired, didn’t you?”

“It’s current,” Rachel nodded. Even without it she had enough other identification with her to allow her to enter and leave Mexico.

“Everything else has been handled, and they’ve already taken your luggage aboard.” Fan sighed and briefly shook her head. “I can’t think of anything other than that.”

“Other than what?” John returned with their cold drinks in time to catch the last part of his wife’s
remark. His fingers were splayed to grip the three containers, slippery with the condensation coating their sides. Plastic straws were poking out of their tops.

“Rachel thinks she’s forgotten something,” Fan explained as she took two of the drinks from him before John dropped them, and passed the orange soda to Rachel.

“She has,” he stated without hesitation and reached in the side pocket of his plaid blazer to offer them napkins.

“What?” Her gray eyes widened, surprised that he seemed to know something she didn’t.

“The cares of the world,” he pronounced, then let a knowing little smile curve his mouth. “Or more specifically, the care of the Country House, home of fine furniture. Which is the same thing since you’ve made it your whole world after you lost Mac.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s my
whole
world.” Rachel was obliged to protest his all-inclusive assessment, yet she realized it was true.

The furniture company had almost become the child she and Mac never had, the recipient of her time and attention. In the last four years since Mac’s death she had lost touch with most of the friends who were outside her business sphere—with the exception of Fan. Even then, the close contact had been maintained mostly because John acted as both her business and personal attorney. Nearly everything in her life revolved around the company and its stores.

Fortunately she had worked in the company, both at the retail outlets and in the office, putting to
practical use her college degree in business management, after she and Mac were married, so she’d had the knowledge and experience to run it herself when she had acquired sole ownership of it on his death. It hadn’t been easy, but the challenge of putting the company on a more solid footing had been rewarding, both emotionally and monetarily. She’d had the satisfaction of taking something she and Mac had dreamed and making it come true.

“For all intents and purposes it might as well be,” John countered, knowing her too well.

“Perhaps,” Rachel conceded absently. His reference to the business had unrolled a new string of thoughts. She lifted back the cuff of her jacket sleeve and glanced at the thin gold watch around her wrist. “I should be able to catch Ben Atkins at the office. I have time before they begin boarding passengers, so I think I’d better phone him. That ad campaign is going to start running on television next and I need—”

“You are not going to call anybody.” Fan laid a restraining hand on her arm, firmly asserting an authority born of friendship. “You are staying right here. I’m not going to let a last-minute phone call interfere with your vacation plans.”

“This is not the most opportune time to be gone for two weeks.” As soon as she said it Rachel recognized it was this knowledge that had been troubling her. She began to have doubts about the wisdom of leaving on the cruise just at the launch of a major ad campaign. Granted, the cruise only lasted seven days, but she had planned on staying in Acapulco a few days longer before flying back. Of
course, she could always cut short that stay and return within a week.

“One of these days you’re going to learn there isn’t an opportune time to take a vacation when you own your own business,” John calmly informed her. “Besides, you are the one who said Ben Atkins was capable of handling things while you’re gone.”

“He is.” It was a rather grudging admission. “But I’ve worked hard to build the company to its present status. I’m not sure it’s wise to leave now when we’re launching a critical phase of new advertising. You were the one who advised against selling the company after Mac’s death, and encouraged me to operate it myself. Now I’m going to be gone at a time when fast decisions need to be made.”

“And if something important arises, Ben can contact the ship by radio. You aren’t going to be completely out of touch,” he reminded, countering her argument with calm logic.

“No, I suppose not,” Rachel acknowledged and sipped thoughtfully through the straw, coral-red lipstick leaving its imprint on the clear plastic.

“When was the last time you took a vacation?” John changed his tactics, challenging her with the question.

“Five years ago,” she admitted, “when Mac and I went fishing in British Columbia.”

“You need this vacation,” he asserted. “There was a time, shortly after Mac’s death, when working long and hard had a therapeutic value, but you’re over that stage now. You need to stop working so hard and start enjoying life again.”

“I enjoy my life,” Rachel insisted, but she knew
she was beginning to feel the strain of the constant pressure. It was a long time since she had truly relaxed and taken it easy. This cruise would provide her with a much needed respite from meetings and telephones and paperwork. By the same token she was daunted by the prospect of doing nothing for seven days. “I admit I need to get away and relax for a while, but I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself for all that time. It isn’t as if I know anybody on board. They’re total strangers.”

“Strangers are what you need right now,” John said wisely. “If you were surrounded by friends, you’d start talking about the business. Instead of leaving it behind, you’d be bringing it with you. Getting to know new people will be good for you. Besides, after working so hard, it’s time you were pampered. And a sea cruise is just the place for it. If you don’t believe me, ask Fan.”

“These cruise ships treat you like a queen.” His wife was quick to back up his assertion. “I never had to lift a hand to do anything when John and I went on that trip through the Caribbean last fall. After taking care of four children and a husband, believe me, that was heaven!”

“I’m sure it’s very nice.” Rachel didn’t question that.

“And the food aboard—it’s an epicurean delight,” Fan declared. “Of course, it isn’t so delightful when you have to lose the five pounds you gained during the cruise.”

“All your arguments are very sound,” Rachel said, because the pair seemed to be ganging up on her. “But I just have some misgivings about this
trip. That doesn’t mean I’m not going. I’m here and I have my ticket.”

“Then stop saying things that make it sound like you’re trying to back out at the last minute,” Fan reproved her. “Especially after all I went through last week to make certain you had your ticket. Speaking of that”—a frown flickered across her expression as Fan was distracted by the run of her own thoughts—“I wonder what happened to the ticket they supposedly mailed to you. It’s strange you never received it.”

“It isn’t so strange,” John disagreed. “Considering how undependable the mail service is these days, it was probably lost.”

“It was sent to the wrong address,” Rachel said.

“How do you know that?” Fan looked at her with a frowning interest.

“I meant to tell you about it before, but with all the last-minute packing and preparations, I simply forgot to mention it.” She began her answer with an explanation of why she hadn’t cleared up the mystery before. “When the cruise line reissued the ticket, it was made out to Mrs. Gardner MacKinley all right, but the address they listed wasn’t mine. Obviously the original one was mailed to that address, which is why I never received it.”

“That explains it.” John shrugged diffidently. “Sooner or later the missing ticket will be returned to the ship line.”

“Do you suppose I should contact the Princess Cruises and tell them they have the wrong address listed for Rachel?” Fan asked, ever one to have things neatly in order.

“It’s hardly necessary since I have my ticket and my pass to get on board.” Rachel didn’t see the need for it.

There was a lull in the conversation and Rachel sipped at her drink. A car pulled up to the curb to unload its occupants. Three young couples piled out, dragging with them a cooler and a large tray mounded with assorted sandwiches and cheeses—refreshments for their own private bon voyage party. As the luggage was unloaded from the trunk and given to a waiting baggage handler with a cart, it became apparent that only one couple in the group was going on the cruise. The other four had come along to see them off and tour the ship.

When the car had been emptied, the driver slipped behind the wheel to park it in the lot adjacent to the port terminal while the remaining five waited in front of the terminal entrance. A sleek black limousine swung quietly into the curbside spot the car had vacated and came to a halt. There was an immediate stirring of interest all around.

Fan leaned closer, murmuring to Rachel, “Who do you suppose is arriving?”

An answer wasn’t expected for her question, but Rachel’s curiosity was naturally aroused, like everyone else’s. The limousine’s smoked glass was designed to protect the privacy of the passenger, but it also heightened the interest of those wondering who might be inside.

The trunk latch was remotely released by a panel button. A second later a uniformed chauffeur was stepping out of the limousine and walking around
the hood to open the rear passenger door. All eyes focused on the opening, including Rachel’s.

A man emerged, unfolding his long length with loose-limbed ease. Tall, easily over six feet when he finally straightened to his full height, he was well built, wide shouldered, and slim hipped. A breeze immediately rumpled his hair as if it couldn’t wait to run its fingers through the virile thickness and feel its vital texture. The slanting rays of an afternoon sun caught the desert-tan highlights that streaked his dark hair. His sun-browned features were strong and handsome, ingrained with a maturity tinged with wry cynicism.

As she studied him Rachel was reminded of a statue she’d seen once. Not because of his trimly muscled build or his male good looks. It was another quality that brought the memory to mind—a tempered hardness of form and character. Yet even that impression seemed belied by the laziness of his stance, so relaxed and at ease.

Rachel guessed he knew he was the cynosure of all eyes, but he appeared indifferent to the attention he attracted. His indifference did not appear to be arrogance, but as if he felt his presence was unimportant.

A slow smile pulled his lips apart, briefly showing a row of white, even teeth. He said something to the chauffeur, the words inaudible, but the soft timbre of his voice drifted to her, husky and warm. The uniformed driver immediately smiled back. Rachel had the feeling it was the natural response of anyone who was the recipient of that smile.

Her gaze traveled with the chauffeur as he moved
to the rear of the vehicle and began to unload the luggage from the carpet-lined trunk and pass it to the baggage handler. Then her glance swung back to the man in the tan sports jacket and brown slacks. In the brief interim he had squared around, providing her with a better view of his face.

Experience had hammered out any softness in his strongly handsome features and etched into them an understated virility that didn’t rely on good looks for its attraction. A cigarette dangled from his mouth as he bent his head to the match flame cupped in his hand.