Chapter 12
The salon had been set for departure.
Crew had pulled the glass doors open to the aft deck and the morning air came in off the water, warm already. Someone had laid out a table with coffee, sliced melon, and a row of champagne flutes that caught the recessed light. The four women stood near the table. The rest of the crew lined the hallway side, hands folded, trying to look busy and not stare.
I hadn't changed out of the cream satin, just pulled a sweater over it. He stood next to me in the same black shirt, sleeves pushed to his elbows. We hadn't touched since we left the bedroom. We'd agreed on the walk over: let me speak, tell the truth as it happened, no accusations yet.
The elderly woman stepped forward before I could.
She lifted a flute. Her double strand of pearls sat perfect against her beige suit. Her hand didn't shake.
"Friends," she said, and her voice carried the way a woman used to speaking in rooms does. "I have waited a long time for this moment."
The woman in the blue dress beside her clasped her hands. The woman in the sparkly dress already had tears in her eyes, her mouth open in that same smile from the doorway.
"This ring," the elderly woman said, and she turned her glass toward us, toward my chest where the thin gold chain still lay, "was my husband's mother's. It was meant for this family. Locked away until the right moment. This morning, we saw what it means."
He shifted his weight. I felt his sleeve brush mine.
"We saw love that decided for itself," she went on. "Before any of us could plan it. I will not let that be called a misunderstanding. So I ask you all to raise a glass. To their engagement."
The woman in the blue dress cheered first, a sharp little cry. "To them!" The woman in the sparkly dress clapped, shoulders shaking, looking at me like I'd given her something. Two of the crew, unsure, raised their flutes halfway. The younger woman in the light blue blazer clapped too, but her eyes stayed on me over the rim of her glass, waiting to see if I'd drink.
It happened exactly like the last shot of that morning. His head turned. My head turned. We looked at each other.
His brows pulled together, just a fraction. His breath was slow. I saw the gold chain against his collar, the black and gold band resting on black cotton. Mine rested on satin. Same chain. Same weight.
He mouthed, now?
I gave the smallest shake of my head. Not during. If I cut her off mid-toast it would become a fight, and a fight would let everyone remember the shouting instead of the truth. She deserved to finish. We had to let her finish with dignity, then stand.
I squeezed his wrist once under the table line where no one could see. Wait.
She lifted her glass higher. "To commitment. To family."
Glasses went up. "To family," the blue dress and the sparkly dress echoed. The sound of crystal tapping was light and terrible. Applause started, soft at first then louder, filling the wood-paneled salon.
I stepped forward when the clapping peaked. I hadn't planned how my voice would sound, just that it would be steady.
I set my glass down without drinking. I let the applause run its course for three seconds, four, until the room felt the pause and quieted on its own.
The elderly woman looked at me, still smiling, still holding her flute like a scepter. The younger woman lowered her hands. He stayed at my side, close enough that our shoulders almost touched, his serious, concerned face turned toward me now, not toward the room.
May you like
I took a breath. My hand found the ring on its chain.
I was ready to speak.
