At dinner, she’d found herself sitting at a table with seven strangers and a daunting array of silverware and glasses, which had all but paralyzed her with uncertainty. She’d thought, “Holy shit, five forks!” What was she supposed to do with five forks? Use a fresh one for each bite? Defend herself from the others at the table?
Then the pretty young woman across the table had caught her eye, given her a friendly, conspiratorial smile, and very discreetly lifted the fork on the outside of the setting. There hadn’t been anything derisive in her attitude, just an honest offer of aid, which Jenner had gratefully accepted. She’d gotten through the dinner, realized that the order of utensil use was very simple, and in the course of that dinner also realized that the young woman across the table was genuinely sweet and friendly. Afterward, they had gravitated toward each other so they could really talk, and by the end of the event each had found a friend.
Strange how much she’d changed since then, Jenner thought, and yet one thing hadn’t changed: She still didn’t truly fit in here. She’d left Chicago behind, and in truth no longer felt like the girl she’d once been, the one who had been so bitterly hurt by family and friends alike, but her sense of not belonging was as strong as ever. Here she was, thirty years old. She’d lived in Palm Beach for six years. In those six years, she’d attended a hundred or more of these charity events, gone to cocktail parties, pool parties, whatever—and to the others of this social set she was, and would always be, the working-class meat packer who’d gotten lucky and won the lottery. She would never be one of them, no matter how casually friendly they were to her. If not for Syd she probably would’ve moved on, looked for somewhere else to live, but instead she’d made a home here.
She’d filled those seven years by staying busy. Al had warned her, years ago, that most people who win the lottery end up broke within five years. Jenner had been determined not to be one of those people. With Al to help with the investments, a good accountant, a couple of attorneys—and, oddly enough, a head for handling investments herself—Jenner was richer than she’d been the day she claimed her winnings … over twice as rich. Even with the recent stock market tumble she was financially sound, thanks to her diverse portfolio. The market might be drastically down, but her own losses were less than twenty percent. These days she even managed a portion of her investments herself, through an online account—though Al, who was now a senior partner at Payne Echols, took care of the rest.
Managing that much money took a lot of time, much more than she’d imagined way back when she’d first picked Payne Echols out of the yellow pages. Add in the charities she supported, the ever-changing list of classes she took—in art, in gourmet cooking (French and Italian), in cake decorating, judo, skeet shooting, ballroom dancing, pottery, computers, snorkeling, even parasailing—and her days were full enough. Occasionally aimless, but full.
She’d tried gardening and knitting as well, but she hadn’t enjoyed either of those. Though Jenner often felt as if she still didn’t know who she was or what she wanted to do, she definitely knew that she was not Suzy Homemaker. She was good in the kitchen, but she’d rather be surfing the Web. And except for the occasional lunch she’d prepared for Syd, who was she going to cook for? If she was the only one there, she’d rather pick up something from the deli down the street and save herself the trouble.
She had a luxury condo with all the security bells and whistles, and someone to clean it. She had great clothes. She had a great car, a beautiful little BMW convertible. She dated occasionally, but not very often. If a man wasn’t in her financial league, then how could she ever truly know whether he liked her for herself or if he was just interested in her money? Her experiences with Michelle, Dylan, and her dad had definitely left emotional scars.
She knew she was unduly critical of the people she socialized with, knew that most of her uncertainty stemmed from herself, but protecting herself by holding most people at a distance was a damn sight easier than dealing with the hurt and repairing the damage if her suspicions were proved correct.
They were actually pretty nice people, she thought, looking around the table. They gave millions and millions to worthwhile charities every year, and it wasn’t because of tax deductions, either. Jenner had made the horrifying—to her—discovery that, at her financial level, almost nothing was deductible. She didn’t even get a personal deduction. So these people gave because they wanted to do good, to make a difference, and not because it in any way benefited them financially. That they combined social events with their giving wasn’t a horrible thing to do. Why not get together with friends before writing those huge checks?
She liked most of them, but she wasn’t close to any of them, except for Syd. Syd also suffered from Jenner’s dilemma when it came to men; she, too, wondered if someone wanted to go out with her because of her father’s money rather than being interested in her. And regardless of how sweet Syd was, how genuinely friendly and nice, how could Jenner say she was wrong in feeling the way she did when Jenner suffered from the same doubt?
After dinner, the auction part of the evening began. She and Syd went into the adjoining room and walked among the tables where the donated items were on display. Nothing there called to her, though she supposed she’d do her part and bid on at least a couple, whether she wanted them or not. There were small white envelopes and thick, rich paper for the attendees to use to place their silent bids. After a quick perusal of the items, Sydney bid on a facial and massage at her favorite spa—for much more than she would have paid by simply booking the services—and Jenner bid on a pair of unexciting pearl earrings. If she got them, she would donate them to a center for abused women. She passed a lot of stuff on to the center. Sometimes, even a piece of jewelry could do a lot for the self-esteem of a woman who had been beaten down to the ground.
After the auction was over—neither of them won, but they both wrote checks anyway—there was dancing, which was as far removed from the dancing Jenner had learned at Bird’s as caviar was from tuna. As they watched the elegant couples sway and twirl, Syd asked, “Are you excited about the cruise?”
Jenner racked her brain, but drew a blank. “What cruise?”
“What cruise?” Syd echoed, staring at Jenner was if she were insane. “The charity cruise. Didn’t you read about it in yesterday’s paper? You are going, aren’t you?” She looked suddenly anxious. “Dad has to be in Europe for some meetings at the same time, or he’d go, so I have to go in his place.”
Okay, Jenner could already see where this was heading. Everyone who was anyone would be expected to go on this cruise, as the charity circuit took to the high seas. And if Syd went, then she’d want Jenner to go along for company and support. And, what the hell, she’d probably go. She hadn’t been on a cruise before, but she liked the water, liked her snorkeling and parasailing lessons, so why not?
“I didn’t read the paper yesterday,” she said—a lie, because she’d read the stuff that interested her. “Fill me in.”
“It’s the maiden voyage of the Silver… Something. Or maybe it’s a Crystal Something. I don’t remember.” Syd waved away the ship’s name, because it truly didn’t matter. “It’s the most luxurious boutique ship in the world, and before it goes into service its maiden voyage is being used to raise money for charity. All the proceeds from everything will be donated, from the passenger fees to the casino take. There’ll be an art auction, a masquerade ball, a fashion show where you can actually buy the garments and they’ll be tailored to fit you … oh, all sorts of stuff. Doesn’t it sound like fun?”
“At least it sounds interesting,” Jenner allowed. “When is it, and where is it?”
“Um … I’ll have to get back to you on the ‘when,’ but the ‘where’ is a two-week cruise in the Pacific.”
“Hawaii? Tahiti? Japan?”
“Uh—farther south than Japan. Does anyone cruise to Japan? Anyway. Hawaii or Tahiti. One or the other. Or both. I don’t know. They’re both pretty, so who cares?”
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Jenner had to laugh at Syd’s reasoning, because she was absolutely right. They could be cruising up and down Lake Erie, and they’d still go, because it was for a good cause and that was what they did.
“Okay, I’m in. Tell me more.”
Syd’s expressive face filled with relief. “Thank goodness,” she breathed. “I was afraid I’d have to go by myself. Dad booked one of the penthouse suites, so from what I understand we’ll each have a private bedroom. This ship is supposed to be gorgeous; every stateroom is at least a mini-suite, with a balcony, but there are way more true suites than there are on any other ship in the world—for right now, at least.”
“Which line owns the ship?”
“I don’t think there’s a line. I think it’s a consortium of people, because one of the co-owners, Frank Larkin, is hosting the voyage. Dad knows him.”
That wasn’t surprising; J. Michael Hazlett knew everyone.
Still, two weeks of isolation, of peace and quiet, sounded very nice. She would sleep, see new places—something she’d discovered she loved to do—and eat great food. On the flip side, there would be many nights like this one, nights where she rubbed shoulders with the rich and powerful who would make up the very exclusive passenger list. And after all, she was now one of those rich and powerful.
Two weeks … Maybe she didn’t want that much peace and quiet. She felt suddenly uneasy. “I don’t know about being out of touch that long,” she said.
“Silly. There are phones in all the rooms, and Internet access. Most ships just have an Internet cafe, but this ship has full wireless service.”
So long as she could get to a computer, she could keep on top of things, so Jenner relaxed. She was a little paranoid about staying informed, maybe because she hadn’t actually earned her money and she was always, in the back of her mind, afraid it would slip away as easily as it had come. She didn’t have survivor guilt, she had dumb-luck guilt.
“Maybe we’ll meet a couple of someone specials while we’re at sea,” Syd said, smiling wryly.
“Yeah,” Jenner said, “like the ship won’t be filled with people we already know, and this set is lousy with young, handsome, straight, available men who don’t care one way or another that between us we could fund our own small country.”
Sydney covered her mouth and coughed to hide a laugh. “You’re so jaded.”
“And so right.”
Syd’s smile faded, became a little sad around the edges. “Maybe it’s just us. No one else seems to worry about being married for their money, they just go ahead and live their lives.”
“And get divorced,” Jenner pointed out, then wished she hadn’t, because Sydney’s mother and father had gone through an extremely bitter, acrimonious divorce when Syd was twelve, a terribly vulnerable age, and that had surely played a part in making her so unsure of her own worth as opposed to her material worth.
It hadn’t helped that, after less than a year, her mother had relinquished custody of Syd to her father and moved to Europe with her new husband. Syd’s whole life had been full of emotional upheaval, including a broken engagement.
By contrast, Jenner considered herself heart-whole. She’d had crushes, sure, and a couple of times when she was younger thought she was in love, but that was it. Since she’d won the lottery, she’d been way too wary to let anyone get close to her, and perhaps that was more a reflection on her than it was on the men who might have shown an interest in her if she’d been more approachable. Perhaps she was the one who couldn’t forget she’d been a meat packer, maybe she was the one who thought no one would want her for herself.
The stray thoughts made her impatient with herself. It wasn’t that she’d entirely given up on men, or that she believed every man on the planet was either greedy or snobbish. But how did a woman in her position go about finding the men who were neither, and how could she tell? She hadn’t figured that out, yet.
A week later, their arrangements were made. The cruise ship Silver Mist was sailing from San Diego, and the publicity surrounding a ship full of millionaires, billionaires, and assorted glitterati was at fever pitch—at least in their circle. Jenner imagined the average Joe couldn’t care less about a bunch of rich people taking a cruise and the ship’s owners donating all the proceeds to charity. Unless it directly impacted them … well, big hairy deal.
Realizing that didn’t stop her from looking forward to it. This was her first cruise, and she was vaguely excited.
Sydney was truly excited about the cruise, though she suffered her normal anxieties about the social events onboard. But she had a friend from college who lived in the San Diego area, and she decided to fly out ahead of time for a visit beforehand.
“You should go with me,” she cajoled Jenner. “You’d really like Caro, and she’d love to have you. If you’re uncomfortable staying at her house, though, you could always get a suite at the Del Coronado. It’s a great old hotel, and the Navy SEALs train on the beach right in front of the guest rooms. If you just happen to run into one, you wouldn’t have to tell him right away about the small country thing.”
“Now, there’s a match made in heaven,” Jenner retorted. “He could overtake the small country, and I could buy it. We’d have all bases covered.”
Navy SEALs notwithstanding, she resisted Syd’s arguments. For one thing, Caro hadn’t invited her, even though she was fairly certain Syd had already broached the subject with her friend before asking Jenner. She could imagine Caro’s agreement with the plan had been fairly tepid, hence she’d left the actual invitation to Syd.
But she and Al had a face-to-face meeting scheduled, which they didn’t often have an opportunity for these days. She and Al had become good friends, and she wanted to catch up on how things were going in Al’s life. All things considered, she’d rather visit with Al than suffer through a slightly awkward vacation with Syd’s college friend.
It wasn’t lost on her that her two best friends were single women named Al and Syd. How weird was that?
“Thanks, but I need to make this meeting with Al. Her flight back to Chicago is Monday afternoon, so I’ll have that evening to finish packing, then I’ll take an early flight out and, with the time change, arrive in San Diego in plenty of time to meet you at the port. You enjoy your visit with Caro, I’ll do the same with Al, and then you and I will spend two nice, lazy weeks cruising around the Pacific.”
“I can’t wait to see the ship,” Syd said, hugging her knees. They were on the balcony of Jenner’s condo, watching the sky change as the sun set behind them. “All of the suites are decorated differently, and the one Dad reserved is gorgeous, all white and silver with touches of blue. It looked really serene and calming, at least in the pictures on the Internet. Not that I imagine we’ll be spending a lot of time in the suite, other than sleeping there.”
“Then who cares how it looks?” Jenner asked what she considered a very practical question.
“I don’t want to sleep in an ugly room,” Syd said indignantly. “Anyway, there’s something planned for every night, and plenty to do during the day.”
“You’ve been on a cruise before, right?”
“Of course. It’s a lot of fun. All sorts of classes, which you’ll like, plus things like spas, movies, dance contests, and unending food. We’ll need a different gown for every night.”
“Packing will be a bitch,” Jenner said, thinking with horror of how many suitcases would be required. Not only would she evidently need fourteen evening gowns, but the shoes, the evening bags, and the jewelry that went with them. “Gaaa.”
“Who cares? It’s all for a good cause. Bring that gorgeous strapless black gown you bought last month, just in case you meet that handsome, straight, nonjudgmental available billionaire we’re always looking for.”
“The SEAL sounded more likely.”
“But you have to be prepared, just in case. You never know what’ll happen.”
Chapter Seven
FRANK LARKIN READ OVER THE PASS
ENGER LIST, NOTING the names he knew and their stateroom assignments, particularly those that adjoined the owner’s suite. The Silver Mist was due to sail in two days, and every detail had to be perfect. The assignment of the suites adjoining his owner’s suite bothered him. On one side was a couple he didn’t know, either personally or by name, and suspicion sharpened his gaze as he stared at the names, Ryan and Faith Naterra. Had they requested the suite next to his for any specific reason? Or had they simply requested one of the top suites—almost everyone had—and they’d simply been lucky enough to be among the first to sign up?
Frank didn’t believe in luck. He also didn’t believe in assuming there was no ulterior motive in asking for those suites. Rather, there was definitely an ulterior motive; everyone breathing had an ulterior motive. That ulterior motive might not involve him personally, but the possibility was always there.
Either way, he didn’t know Ryan and Faith Naterra, and that made him suspicious.
His head ached. It always did, a dull, ever-present reminder that there was, after all, something he couldn’t overcome. Briefly he massaged his temples; he knew that wouldn’t ease the pain, but the action was so instinctive he couldn’t stop himself. He had become so accustomed to the pain that most of the time, until recently, he’d seldom noticed it was there. Lately, though, he seemed to feel a small point of heat inside his head that was like a worm gnawing through his brain.
Was that the cancer? Could he actually feel the tumor growing? His doctor said no, but how could the bastard know? Had he ever had brain cancer? Had he ever had to live—yeah, fucking bad pun—with the knowledge that his brain was being eaten by disease and there was nothing he or anyone else could do to stop it?