Cecaelia: Danger in International Waters

8. Tiny Ironing Board

The next morning, Francis again knocked on Laura's door. He was holding a silver tray. "Good morning, Laura. Always a pleasure to see you."

"Morning, Francis." She took the tray with both hands. "How's the ocean treating you?"

"A cruel mistress." He smiled. His dimples beamed. "Oh. I have a message for you." He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out an ecru colored envelope. He bowed slightly. "Enjoy your breakfast."

She pushed her laptop aside and set down the tray on her coffee table. There was a carafe of coffee, a croissant, and a small glass of fresh orange juice. Next to the croissant were small ramekins of butter and jam. Her balcony door was cracked open. It was enough to hear the steady sound of waves and get a cool breeze. She could smell the salty marine air. She sat down and leaned back. Some fresh coffee that someone else made, and the sound of the ocean. Life wasn't bad.

She poured a cup of coffee into the delicate white mug. Steam swirled above it. The room filled with the roasted, comforting smell. She pulled a card out of the small envelope from Francis and opened it. It was on embossed Cecaelia letterhead. It read:

Please join me for lunch, Captain's orders.

I can walk you to the Officer's mess. I'll stop by your room at noon.

XOXO, secret admirer

P.S., Did you know captains actually can't officiate legally binding weddings?

We were lied to by so many bad movies.

Laura smiled. Helen had always been reserved and formal when she was speaking, but it was like twisting her arm to get her to write a serious letter. She had to talk her down from canceling their cable service with a sappy love letter once.

Laura sipped her coffee. It was piping hot. She used the knife to split her croissant, and spread butter and jam inside. She took a bite. It was surprisingly good. Light, flaky, and nicely browned. She shouldn't be surprised that a ship for this kind of guest would have a good pastry chef, but she was thankful for it. She opened her laptop, and sat down to work.

A few hours later, Laura's eyes were bleary. She had been trying to keep up on her mounting email inbox. Her growing company had a few large contracts, and a few more in the funnel. Each of them had a flurry of tasks to get them sold, done, and billed. She felt the tension in her shoulders and rolled them to try to stretch. On cue, there was a knock on the door.

Laura opened it. Helen was standing there, framed perfectly in the doorway. Her uniform was white and neatly pressed. She smiled broadly. "Hello, Laura. Ready for lunch?"

"Very."

"Awesome. I know a spot. I know it because I have to eat there every day."

Laura smirked. "Wow. Mandatory. That's high praise."

"Okay, fine. It's not mandatory. But you'll be pleasantly surprised. I hope at least." She tilted her head down the hall. "This way."

They walked down the hall to the bank of elevators. They followed it up a few decks, then got off. They walked to one of the main dining rooms. The hall was full with couples and families lining up for lunch reservations. They cut through the line, and found the side entry to a staircase. In the middle was another bank of elevators. Below the call button, there was a gray plastic sensor. Helen tapped her Amulet against it, and the call button lit up green. She tapped it and the doors opened.

One floor above, they made their way out of the staircase to the area directly above the passenger dining room. It looked like the officers' dining room had been built directly above. It was a study in contrasts. The passenger dining room was filled with large round tables with white tablecloths. The officers' mess was made up of orderly rows of benches and white quartz tables. The tables and benches were blonde plywood, and the carpet was a solid forest green. At the center of each table were small flower arrangements in square glass vases. Laura thought the overall effect was like a deluxe IKEA cafeteria. Communal, bright, Scandinavian, and clean.