Ever since she can remember, Poppy was always the odd one out. She never belonged anywhere. Always the ungainly one. Too big, too fat, too clumsy, always misspeaking, too nerdy. All she ever truly had was her mom and dad, and when she lost them, she felt completely abandoned. Worthless.
She inhales a deep, shaky breath.
Not only is she growing fond of Lillith, she respects—even admires—her. She was a daring war photographer—her work is phenomenal. Poppy has been going through all the old photographs while helping with Lillith’s memoir. Before she married Angus, Lillith Ravenscroft went places men dared not go. She captured photos of children and women and seniors in violent war zones across the globe. She gave faces and voices to innocents, the victims of conflicts.
Poppy stares at her reflection a moment longer.
Who are you, really, Poppy Buchanan? Do you even know anymore? What do youreallywant?
“Poppy?”
She startles at the sound of Lillith’s voice coming from the other side of the door. Her pulse kicks and her heart begins to race.
“Is that you in the bathroom, Poppy?”
“Coming!”
Poppy quickly splashes water on her face, pats it dry, whispers to her reflection:
Calm down. You’ve handled worse than a dying old heiress. You’ve got this.
She smooths her hair, straightens her glasses, adjusts her simple navy sheath dress, and opens the door.
“I unpacked your toiletries and medications,” she says evenly. “Didn’t want to wake you. How are you feeling? How was your rest?”
Lillith struggles up into a sitting position. She leans back against the pillows and studies Poppy with her good eye. Beyond the windows the sky has turned soft indigo and mauve, and the sea ripples to the horizon.
“Thank you,” she says simply. “And yes, I feel somewhat restored.” She reaches for her glass of water on the nightstand, and sips. “How about you? How areyoufeeling? Did you catch the launch? A nice cocktail or two?”
Something clenches in Poppy’s chest. She forces a smile. “Actually, yes. And there’s nothing a good G&T can’t fix. Shall I make you something to drink, Lillith? Or there’s chilled champagne? Juice?”
“A G&T isexactlywhat I need.” She smiles, sits up fully, and edges her legs off the side of the bed. “Then I’d like to dress for dinner.”
A nice feeling infuses Poppy’s chest. It’s precisely what she wants, too. To go up for a fancy dinner. With the rich widow. And she’s warmed by the fact Lillith has chosen to live out her last days drinking G&Ts. On a cruise. With her.
Carter
Three Days, Three Hours To Impact
Carter sits with his mom and Gramps at an outdoor table on Deck 14. He can see the pool, the ocean, and the entrance to the deck. It’s a perfect vantage point for watching people arrive for dinner or drinks. He already explored most of Deck 14 before their food came. And the actual launch was beyond exciting, with the helicopters thudding above, tugboats following, and fireboats shooting humongous arcs of seawater into the air.
Now it’s almost fully dark. There are fairy lights everywhere, and soft music is being played by real musicians. The mood is peaceful, winding down. But Carter is not tired.
“Can I go look over the railing again?” he asks his mom.
“You haven’t finished eating, Carter,” she says.
“It’s not like I’ll go overboard or anything.” He sticks another handful of really good fries into his mouth. “Besides, I read all about the MOB,” he says around his mouthful. “That’s what they call the alert for ‘man overboard,’ you know? And it doesn’t have to be a man. It can be a woman.”
“Or a little boy,” adds Gramps.
His mom gives Gramps a warning look. Gramps smiles and winks at Carter, which only encourages him.
“Do you know there are sensors on the sides of newer ships?” he says. “So even if no one actually sees a person go over, the movement still triggers an alarm up at the bridge. The watch officer then shouts ‘man overboard’ and a MOB button is hit, which marks the ship’s position where it happened. The crew checks the ship’s cameras to see what’s going on, and they throw out smoke markers or life buoys with lights so they can pinpoint where the person went into the sea. It takes forever for a big ship to turn around, but the marker buoys give the crew a chance to save the life of the person who went over.” He sticks more fries in his mouth. “If they’re still alive.”
“What did I say about talking with your mouth full?” his mother asks.
He chews in silence for a moment as he scans the surrounding tables and studies the newer sets of guests arriving for dinner. His pen and notebook ofsuspicious happeningsrest beside his plate, just in case he observes something unusual.
