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I watched them for a while. Daddy brought over some people to introduce to me and then I stayed with him until he went back to talk to the head chef. I was standing by myself feeling a little lost when suddenly, someone tapped me on the shoulder and I turned to look into Tony's blue eyes.
"Time for our dance," he said and held out his arms.
"Oh, but I'm not good at ballroom dancing," I pleaded, even as he took me in his powerful arms and swept me onto the floor.
"Nonsense. Just follow my lead."
I caught a glimpse of Momma off to the side, standing with some people and smiling, but I felt so nervous and stiff, I was sure I looked silly out on the dance floor.
"I'm happy you decided to wear my gift tonight," Tony said. "It looks so pretty on you."
"Thank you." My heart was pounding. i was sure everyone was looking at me and laughing because I looked so awkward in his arms. He was so tall and graceful and sure and I moved like a girl who had been crippled all her life. It was hard to relax on a dance floor with all these elegantly dressed adults around me. This was nothing like a school dance.
"This is a wonderful party," he said. "I can't imagine what it must have been like for you growing up in all this."
"It's a very hard business," I replied, thinking of my daddy. "Especially these days."
"Oh, I see." He smiled as if he had to humor me. "You're thinking of becoming a businesswoman then?"
"There's no reason why a woman can't." I knew I was being rude, but for some reason I couldn't stop myself.
"No, none at all." His eyes brightened and he laughed. I was glad when the music ended and he bowed and thanked me. He disappeared in the crowd and left me standing there, feeling even more selfconscious. I retreated to a corner of the ballroom. A little while later the cast of The Pajama Game performed. They were as wonderful as they had been on the stage. After the show, many people began to leave. By the time the horn was sounded for the visitors to depart, many already had. The ship's staff began to clear away some tables. I
joined Daddy, who was speaking with the captain and the first officer, just as the band announced its final number, which was to be a waltz.
Suddenly, I saw Daddy's eyes grow small and his lips tighten so that a whiteness formed under them. When I turned about, I saw what had caught his attention. Momma and Tony were practically the only couple left dancing and they were dancing so gracefully and so closely, all the remaining guests and visitors had their eyes on them.
I couldn't help but feel sorry for Daddy because Momma and Tony did look so beautiful together, moving as if they had been dancing together for years and years. Momma seemed to bloom in Tony's arms. Never had she looked more radiant, and tonight she looked so young. I hadn't realized until this moment how young she looked in contrast to Daddy. The years between them had never seemed so vast as they suddenly did.
Daddy appeared to sense that too, for he looked tired, resigned, defeated, as if he had just aged an additional ten years. Oh, there, was such sadness in my daddy's handsome face. He saw the way I was gazing at him and he forced a smile. Then he leaned over to me and shook his head.
"Somehow or another, your mother is always the life of the party, isn't she, Leigh?"
I nodded. He didn't sound angry; he sounded melancholy. I was relieved when the music finally ended and Momma and Tony stopped dancing. Tony followed Momma back to our table to say good night.
"It was a wonderful party," he said. "Best of luck on your maiden voyage."
"Thank you," Daddy replied, his voice sounding neither bitter nor pleasant. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."
"Leigh," Tony said turning to me, "don't get too sunburned. Good night." He turned to Momma. "Jillian," he said nodding.
"I'll walk you to the gate," she offered and followed him out.
Daddy watched them with cold eyes.
Instinctively, I reached across the table and squeezed his hand. He smiled at me as if to say "I'm all right." lut I couldn't keep my heart from pounding out its ominous warnings. Like some old seafaring soul, I sensed an impending storm over the horizon and felt the need to batten down the hatches.
A little over a year ago, Momma decided that if Daddy wanted us to go along on his cruises, he would have to permit her to redecorate the suites we would have on the liners. She designed the suites in only two ships before losing interest, but one of the two was, of course, The Jillian. In one of her fashion magazines, Momma had seen a spread done on a celebrity's New York apartment and she decided to model her shipboard suite after it. Our suite was decorated in serene neutrals, taupes and honeyed beiges with bleached light-colored woods that all provided the perfect backdrop for Momma's cool blond good looks.
The liner was a floating resort. On one level there were all sorts of shops, including beauty shops and barber shops, drugstores, and boutiques featuring the latest fashions from home and abroad. There was a continuous schedule of activities for guests, including dance instruction, exercise classes, art exhibits and lectures, teas, endless meals, games of competition, shuffleboard, and, of course, once we sailed into the warm weather, swimming in one of the three pools on The Jillian. At night there were dances with
entertainment provided by singers and comedians, and even first-run movies.
Momma slept late every morning, so that Daddy and I usually went to breakfast without her. We always ate with the captain, so when he wasn't available, the first officer, plus guests. Some days, Momma didn't come out of her suite until early afternoon and had her breakfast brought in. Usually she had only a small glass of juice, one poached egg and one piece of toast.
She was very disciplined about how much she would expose herself to sunlight, actually timing it so she would just have some slight color on her face. She had read somewhere that sunlight hastened wrinkling and nothing terrified Momma more than the possibility of a wrinkle appearing. Her vanity table was covered with every skin cream and -dy lotion available, especially the ones that promised eternal youthfulness. Most of her morning was taken up with working creams into her skin and preparing her makeup. She was often in the steam room and scheduled herself a massage every day and a facial once a week.
From the day we left Boston Harbor, Momma complained continually about the devastating effect the salty sea air was having on her hair. She had to go to the beauty parlor almost every day to keep her hair from "kinking." She said the sea air robbed her hair of its softness and chapped her skin because her face was too sensitive. She was rarely on deck in the evening, even when we had sailed into the warmer climate and the evenings were tepid. I thought there were few sights as beautiful as the calm ocean on a warm night with the moonlight painted over the water. The waves bobbed under an unobstructed night sky so dazzling it took my breath away. I was always trying to get Momma out on the deck with me to look at it, but she told me she could see it through the windows whenever she wanted.
