Separate Cabins

“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. Hi

s 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.”