Unforgettable ~ Chapter Three
Title: Unforgettable ~ Chapter 3
Author: aussie and bugs
Genre: AU, Romance, Drama
Rating: T
Word Count: 3000
Summary: A storm is brewing.
Chapter Three:
Across the long table in the ship's dining room, Laura tried to give Aaron Doral a friendly smile, which quickly faded at the slightly leering one he gave her back. She had wanted her old friend to find happiness again after the loss of her husband, but on first meeting, had not been impressed with her choice.
And she'd felt small and judgmental that her first impression had been based on his clothing. His jacket cuffs had been a bit too long, suggesting he'd purchased it off the rack in some rush to impress. His shirt had been a too bright shade of blue; his tie canary yellow; his cufflinks large squares of shiny gold like a Reno gambler.
She turned to her husband sitting beside her, taking in his well-fitted black and white evening dress, and her smile returned. Bill grinned back. Her hand swept down his arm, squeezing his strong dark wrist above the snowy shirt cuff.
When she'd finally prised him loose from his faithful old blue suit, the Harrison Street tailor had admired its workmanship. Yes, it had been frayed at the hems and the cut was a decade out of style, but it had been a quality garment. It still had pride of place in their dressing room.
That seersucker suit though....Her hand drifted below the table. It had been her choice in an inspired moment, thinking it would be perfect for summer Sunday strolls through Golden Gate Park. He'd resisted, until she'd leaned close, her lips right on his ear, and promised him she'd give him a suitable reward as soon as they got home--perhaps even in the car, pulled off at some deserted pier...
Her palm smoothed up his sturdy thigh.
Bill had been chatting with the First Officer seated to his left, engaged in a frustrating conversation about the approaching storm. Giving a bland smile, the bridge officer was dismissing his concerns. "No need to worry, Mr Adams. We'll take care of everything."
With this arousing distraction, though, he blinked slowly and looked at Laura out the corner of his eye.
She lifted her wine glass with her free hand and smiled mysteriously at him over the rim before taking a sip.
Draping his arm along the back of her chair, his fingertips began to casually dance along her bare back as he returned to his conversation.
Laura's eyes lit at the challenge. Pressing her thigh to his, she slipped her foot from her silver sandal and rubbed her stockinged toes up the sheer hose of his sock.
Sesha watched them from across the table and nearly choked on her suddenly sand-dry roll. What had happened to Laura Roslin? Everyone knew she was a tramp under her sophisticated facade, but to behave so openly?
She pinned a smile on her face. "You must be enjoying being back on a boat, Mr Adams."
"Please, call me Bill," he said easily.
Sesha did not return the invitation.
"Yeah, it's great to be at sea on a vessel again," he said, gently correcting.
Laura leaned closer to her husband. "Bill is going to teach me all about being on the water," she said huskily.
"I suppose that's a reason to marry outside your class, Laura dear," said Sesha. "Insight into another world."
Laura appeared confused. Bill took a sip from his wine glass and focused on a spot behind Mrs Doral. His gaze fell on the nurse, standing with her back to the wall, waiting for her mistress to call.
"I made my choice closer to home," continued Sesha. "By taking up with the stablehand." Her tone was light, but her dark eyes were hard.
Doral, who'd been murmuring in a low voice to the bored-looking woman beside him, glanced at his wife. The word 'stablehand' always caught his attention.
"Horse trainer, dear," he said through gritted teeth.
After taking a very careful sip from her water, Sesha's smile was ice cold. "Apparently not a very good one."
Laura gasped and Bill covered her white-knuckled fist on his leg. He hated seeing her distressed like this and wondered how soon he could take her away from these disagreeable people.
"I'm surprised Laura married at all," Sesha said, ignoring everyone's discomfort. "You always said you'd never marry," she said accusingly.
"The right man finally came along to change my mind," said Laura, happy for a better topic.
Sesha gave the Adamses a patronizing smile. "Everyone thought Laura would marry Ray. He was a superior catch, but I was his choice."
The hairs stood up on the base of Bill's neck. This woman was mad. Her husband sat beside her, perfectly still, his gaze glazed over. His wine glass was empty. The nurse stood behind her, her face a mask.
Laura tried to lighten the mood and said utterly the wrong thing. "Oh, Sesha, don't be silly! I was never going to marry Ray, even when he asked!"
She turned to smile warmly at Bill and they missed Sesha's murderous glare.
Doral saw it though. He stood abruptly, wavering for his balance for a moment. His wife looked at him with disgust.
"Adams, lets go to the Gentlemen's Smoking Lounge," he said.
Bill started to protest, but Laura gave him a little nudge, her eyes pleading. He understood she hoped to speak more intimately with her friend.
"Sure, Doral," he said, standing himself, but dropping a quick kiss on Laura's temple before leaving.
*
Emily winced as the cab screeched away from the curb in front of the motel as soon as she'd closed the door. It had taken all the money in her wallet to pay for the ride from the San Francisco pier down the Peninsula to Palo Alto, leaving nothing for a suitable tip.
She looked up and down the street before hurrying toward room 3-A of the long, low building. In her anxiety, she didn't note a dark sedan pulling up to the curb. Behind the wheel, Tom Zarek caught sight of the Roslin Industries secretary. He swore violently under his breath. When he saw a man open the door for her and Emily pass through, he shut off his motor and stepped out.
Emily put her purse down on the seedy motel room's chipped table. "I'm sorry, Detective. I couldn't get away."
Rubbing the small of his back since he'd been sitting for hours, Peter Laird winced in discomfort. "It's okay. Nothing's happened with this mysterious Mr Smith of Sagittarius Enterprises." He nodded toward the crack in the window's curtain. "I thought I had something when someone else showed up, but it was just a blonde."
He looked uncomfortable. "I guessed she was there for the usual reasons."
Emily peered out through the curtains to the stucco two-story building across the quiet street. "To his business office?" she asked, askance.
"There's an apartment above the offices."
"No sign of Mr Zarek?" Emily let the curtain drop.
"No, Mrs Kowalski." Equally frustrated, Laird rummaged in his crumpled suit jacket's pocket for a pack of cigarettes. "Do you mind?" he asked before lighting up.
"No, no. " She went to sit on the bed, but then uncomfortable with the idea, moved to a small straight-backed chair and perched on the edge.
He exhaled a long stream of smoke. "I don't know how much longer I can keep making excuses about working late to my wife," he admitted. "And the Chief's been asking questions. He frowns on his boys moonlighting."
She hopped up and opened her purse. "Oh! Of course. Here's your check." She held the payment out to Laird.
He blushed. "I wasn't hintin' around, Mrs Kowalski." He took the check and slipped it in his pocket. "But I appreciate it. This will all be worth it when I give the keys to our first house to Marie."
Emily moved to the curtain again. "And it'll all be worth it when we can prove to Mrs Adams that Tom Zarek is stealing from her."
Zarek approached the motel's reception desk.
"May I help you, sir?" said the clerk, a weedy old man with his few sparse hair arranged artfully atop his egg-domed head.
"Yes, I thought I saw a lady friend going into a room just now, but I didn't want to knock and disturb someone if it wasn't her."
"We don't run that sorta place," the clerk insisted, indignant.
"Of course not!" Tom leaned on the counter and slid a five dollar bill across the greasy surface. "It's room 3-A."
The clerk's eyes darted to the reception book as he pocketed the money. "Mr and Mrs Bill Adams."
Tom pooched out his lips, affecting sadness. "Nope, that's not her. Too bad."
He noticed a payphone stand across the dim lobby. "Thanks," he tossed over his shoulder as he strode to it.
After asking the operator to connect him, he leaned close to the mouthpiece, pressing the earpiece to his ear. "Yeah, it's me." He quickly glanced back at the clerk who made a show of reading a tattered paperback.
"I'm here. Across the street. But so is someone else," he muttered. "Have you noticed anyone watching?"
His voice went up a notch. "Well, Laura Roslin's secretary is, and she's got a boyfriend apparently."
Forcing himself to calm down, he asked, "I don't know what they're up to, but I can't believe she just happened to pick the hotel across the street from our office to have her dirty weekend."
After he heard the reply, he grinned slyly. "I'll stay outside in my car. This bear ain't walking into any trap. He'll wait for the hunter to come out."
*
After Bill and Doral left, the ship's Captain and his First Officer made their apologies, explaining they needed to return to the bridge. Laura suggested that the women could make their way into the Grand Lounge to enjoy after-dinner drinks. Sesha nodded in agreement, like a queen granting the privilege of her company.
Laura jumped up and strode quickly toward the dining room's doorway into the lounge, eager for the opportunity for a more private tete a tete with her old friend. Sesha seemed so unhappy. Not at all like the girl Laura knew from college and the early years of Sesha and Ray's marriage.
Sensing she was alone, she glanced over her shoulder, and blanched at the stony look on her friend’s face. The nurse was pushing Sesha’s wheelchair, struggling to maneuver the large cumbersome apparatus through the dining room tables. She needed to make allowances for Sesha’s moods. It must be so difficult for her.
While waiting, Laura busied herself by ordering them both a drink and lighting a cigarette.
“Nurse Schaffer, I didn't see you eat while we dined. Perhaps you'd like to have some supper while we chat?” Laura offered when the other two women finally arrived at the table.
“I’ll have a cigarette too, Schaffer,” Sesha demanded before the nurse could reply to Laura’s polite suggestion.
The young woman produced a cigarette case and lighter from her tunic’s pocket. “After I’ve retired,” Sesha snapped as she exhaled smoke directly into her employee’s face, “you can eat.”
Paulla dipped her head and nodded before stepping back, awaiting her next instruction.
Laura decided they just needed to talk about happier times. “Emily says hello and hopes you are well,” she said, finishing uncomfortably.
“Oh, that’s right, you’re still paying her after all these years.”
“She’s my secretary, that’s right,” Laura said carefully.
Sesha blew gently on the end of her cigarette, and then flashed Laura a weak smile. “So generous of you, Laura. How long has it been since that Pole she married gambled all their money away and then had the good sense to blow his brains out?”
Laura took a careful breath. "Nearly twenty years."
“But you'd lost contact with her, didn’t you? Before Alex died?”
Laura blinked. What was Sesha suggesting? “Emily was a young mother,” she explained. “She wasn’t in any position to attend charity dinners and nightclub openings.”
"Yes," Sesha drawled. "I can see that you didn't share many interests with her until she needed income and you needed a secretary." There was no mistaking the woman's accusation this time.
“I offered Emily a loan and she refused,” Laura said, flushing red. “She had her pride.”
"True. And a loan would only last for so long. While a twenty-year long position...And I believe you're paying to send both her daughters to Mills."
"Who told you--" Laura asked furiously, then remembered that Sesha was always close with Mimi Chastian, who ran their old college's alumni group.
Sesha reached across the table to squeeze Laura's balled fist with her cold fingers. "You were always so generous, Red," she said warmly, evoking Laura's old nickname that she'd hated passionately.
"Emily has been the generous one," Laura grumbled. "To stick with me all these years." Her doubts about the validity of her friendships rose again, swamping her emotions.
Seeing her distress, Sesha laughed gaily, her good temper apparently returning. She leaned close again.
“You must tell me all the juicy details of what happened when Aunt Katherine heard you had married some scruffy old sailor.”
*
Aaron Doral took one of the thick Cuban cigars from the leather case set out on the table. He took an extra moment to savor its peppery aroma before impatiently clicking his fingers at the lounge's steward, even as the man had been approaching with a pair of cutters and lighter.
“The servants seem awfully slow on this ship,” he complained.
“Crew,” Bill corrected.
Doral waved his hand around indicating there was little difference in his opinion. “Servants are a necessary burden,” he mused.
“A burden?”
“Yes. I find they constantly want to know your business. It’s always of great interest to them. Surely you've noticed this, Adams?”
Bill thought about Elosha and regrettably gave a small nod in agreement--even though he knew Laura’s most trusted servant never had any ignoble intentions.
“It must be the mundane nature of their own lives, I suppose,” Doral added.
“I’m sure that must be what it is,” Bill answered blandly. Bill pulled out his cigarette case and concentrated intently on lighting one.
“But we need them, don’t we?”
“We do? I've survived a lifetime without someone ironing my undershorts. Actually find it kinda annoying, especially when they use too much starch."
Doral laughed, but Bill could see he didn't understand the joke. He exhaled a foul-smelling plume of smoke.
“I say, you’re not smoking a cigar, Adams?” he asked, clearly perturbed by the thought. “They’re complimentary.”
“Laura doesn't like their smell,” Bill explained.
“You don’t need to continue with the act now, Adams! Women aren’t allowed in here, thank god!”
Bill took another long drag of his cigarette before peering over at his companion again. “I wasn’t acting.”
“That’s another thing that we need servants for, right? When the wife has a headache or any other of their many excuses.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you don’t take advantage of their availability? So many young nubile girls come to work, eager to do anything to please the master of the house. It’s just the way things are done. It’s not like women of Sesha or Laura’s age or class are going to give into a red-blooded man’s demands. They don’t see it as normal. Without the servants--”
Bill stood, his chair scraping backward loudly in his rush. “I’m sorry. I just remembered I have to walk the dog.”
“What? See!" Doral waved around the cigar, making Bill's eyes water. "This is just another example! If you’d brought your maid along with you, you could spend more time enjoying yourself and less time having to walk your wife’s mutt.”
His shoulders stiff, Bill left the lounge and its unpleasant occupant. Treading carefully as he walked along the rolling deck, he made his way to the Grand Lounge. The storm was building up; he had to get back to his wife.
Laura's face lit as soon as she spotted him in the doorway. "Honey, I think we should get Mrs Doral back to her cabin--" she called out as he approached.
"I'm having a wonderful time," Sesha said with an unpleasant tone.
He gave her a steely glance. "This storm is getting ready to hit. It would be dangerous for you returning to your stateroom once it gets worse."
"The crew hasn't said anything," she said, still disagreeable.
Laura took Bill's hand and gave it a brief squeeze. He smiled at her again but didn't back down with Mrs Doral. "They should--"
Just then, the Second Officer arrived and called for everyone's attention. "Please return to your cabins immediately. We expect to be under a storm warning from the next hour until further notice. Stewards have already secured the items in your cabins, but please use caution, even in bed."
Laura grinned up at Bill.
Sesha saw this and rolled her eyes. She tossed over her shoulder at her nurse, "All right, Schaffer. Let's get me back to the cabin."
"May I help, Mrs Doral?" Bill asked.
"No, thank you," she said coolly. "That's what the crew is for." Her tone suggested she expected him to start picking up the shifting crockery on the tables, forgetting his new position.
After taking a deep breath, Bill called over two stewards to assist the arrogant woman
Then he helped Laura from her chair. The deck was already beginning to roll. She stumbled into his embrace, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, this is going to be fun," she giggled in his ear.
He gave her bottom a discreet little slap, and lead her to the doorway with the others.
End Chapter Three
A/N: bugs will be going On an Adventure this weekend, so the next chapter will be delayed. Sorry!
Author: aussie and bugs
Genre: AU, Romance, Drama
Rating: T
Word Count: 3000
Summary: A storm is brewing.
Chapter Three:
Across the long table in the ship's dining room, Laura tried to give Aaron Doral a friendly smile, which quickly faded at the slightly leering one he gave her back. She had wanted her old friend to find happiness again after the loss of her husband, but on first meeting, had not been impressed with her choice.
And she'd felt small and judgmental that her first impression had been based on his clothing. His jacket cuffs had been a bit too long, suggesting he'd purchased it off the rack in some rush to impress. His shirt had been a too bright shade of blue; his tie canary yellow; his cufflinks large squares of shiny gold like a Reno gambler.
She turned to her husband sitting beside her, taking in his well-fitted black and white evening dress, and her smile returned. Bill grinned back. Her hand swept down his arm, squeezing his strong dark wrist above the snowy shirt cuff.
When she'd finally prised him loose from his faithful old blue suit, the Harrison Street tailor had admired its workmanship. Yes, it had been frayed at the hems and the cut was a decade out of style, but it had been a quality garment. It still had pride of place in their dressing room.
That seersucker suit though....Her hand drifted below the table. It had been her choice in an inspired moment, thinking it would be perfect for summer Sunday strolls through Golden Gate Park. He'd resisted, until she'd leaned close, her lips right on his ear, and promised him she'd give him a suitable reward as soon as they got home--perhaps even in the car, pulled off at some deserted pier...
Her palm smoothed up his sturdy thigh.
Bill had been chatting with the First Officer seated to his left, engaged in a frustrating conversation about the approaching storm. Giving a bland smile, the bridge officer was dismissing his concerns. "No need to worry, Mr Adams. We'll take care of everything."
With this arousing distraction, though, he blinked slowly and looked at Laura out the corner of his eye.
She lifted her wine glass with her free hand and smiled mysteriously at him over the rim before taking a sip.
Draping his arm along the back of her chair, his fingertips began to casually dance along her bare back as he returned to his conversation.
Laura's eyes lit at the challenge. Pressing her thigh to his, she slipped her foot from her silver sandal and rubbed her stockinged toes up the sheer hose of his sock.
Sesha watched them from across the table and nearly choked on her suddenly sand-dry roll. What had happened to Laura Roslin? Everyone knew she was a tramp under her sophisticated facade, but to behave so openly?
She pinned a smile on her face. "You must be enjoying being back on a boat, Mr Adams."
"Please, call me Bill," he said easily.
Sesha did not return the invitation.
"Yeah, it's great to be at sea on a vessel again," he said, gently correcting.
Laura leaned closer to her husband. "Bill is going to teach me all about being on the water," she said huskily.
"I suppose that's a reason to marry outside your class, Laura dear," said Sesha. "Insight into another world."
Laura appeared confused. Bill took a sip from his wine glass and focused on a spot behind Mrs Doral. His gaze fell on the nurse, standing with her back to the wall, waiting for her mistress to call.
"I made my choice closer to home," continued Sesha. "By taking up with the stablehand." Her tone was light, but her dark eyes were hard.
Doral, who'd been murmuring in a low voice to the bored-looking woman beside him, glanced at his wife. The word 'stablehand' always caught his attention.
"Horse trainer, dear," he said through gritted teeth.
After taking a very careful sip from her water, Sesha's smile was ice cold. "Apparently not a very good one."
Laura gasped and Bill covered her white-knuckled fist on his leg. He hated seeing her distressed like this and wondered how soon he could take her away from these disagreeable people.
"I'm surprised Laura married at all," Sesha said, ignoring everyone's discomfort. "You always said you'd never marry," she said accusingly.
"The right man finally came along to change my mind," said Laura, happy for a better topic.
Sesha gave the Adamses a patronizing smile. "Everyone thought Laura would marry Ray. He was a superior catch, but I was his choice."
The hairs stood up on the base of Bill's neck. This woman was mad. Her husband sat beside her, perfectly still, his gaze glazed over. His wine glass was empty. The nurse stood behind her, her face a mask.
Laura tried to lighten the mood and said utterly the wrong thing. "Oh, Sesha, don't be silly! I was never going to marry Ray, even when he asked!"
She turned to smile warmly at Bill and they missed Sesha's murderous glare.
Doral saw it though. He stood abruptly, wavering for his balance for a moment. His wife looked at him with disgust.
"Adams, lets go to the Gentlemen's Smoking Lounge," he said.
Bill started to protest, but Laura gave him a little nudge, her eyes pleading. He understood she hoped to speak more intimately with her friend.
"Sure, Doral," he said, standing himself, but dropping a quick kiss on Laura's temple before leaving.
*
Emily winced as the cab screeched away from the curb in front of the motel as soon as she'd closed the door. It had taken all the money in her wallet to pay for the ride from the San Francisco pier down the Peninsula to Palo Alto, leaving nothing for a suitable tip.
She looked up and down the street before hurrying toward room 3-A of the long, low building. In her anxiety, she didn't note a dark sedan pulling up to the curb. Behind the wheel, Tom Zarek caught sight of the Roslin Industries secretary. He swore violently under his breath. When he saw a man open the door for her and Emily pass through, he shut off his motor and stepped out.
Emily put her purse down on the seedy motel room's chipped table. "I'm sorry, Detective. I couldn't get away."
Rubbing the small of his back since he'd been sitting for hours, Peter Laird winced in discomfort. "It's okay. Nothing's happened with this mysterious Mr Smith of Sagittarius Enterprises." He nodded toward the crack in the window's curtain. "I thought I had something when someone else showed up, but it was just a blonde."
He looked uncomfortable. "I guessed she was there for the usual reasons."
Emily peered out through the curtains to the stucco two-story building across the quiet street. "To his business office?" she asked, askance.
"There's an apartment above the offices."
"No sign of Mr Zarek?" Emily let the curtain drop.
"No, Mrs Kowalski." Equally frustrated, Laird rummaged in his crumpled suit jacket's pocket for a pack of cigarettes. "Do you mind?" he asked before lighting up.
"No, no. " She went to sit on the bed, but then uncomfortable with the idea, moved to a small straight-backed chair and perched on the edge.
He exhaled a long stream of smoke. "I don't know how much longer I can keep making excuses about working late to my wife," he admitted. "And the Chief's been asking questions. He frowns on his boys moonlighting."
She hopped up and opened her purse. "Oh! Of course. Here's your check." She held the payment out to Laird.
He blushed. "I wasn't hintin' around, Mrs Kowalski." He took the check and slipped it in his pocket. "But I appreciate it. This will all be worth it when I give the keys to our first house to Marie."
Emily moved to the curtain again. "And it'll all be worth it when we can prove to Mrs Adams that Tom Zarek is stealing from her."
Zarek approached the motel's reception desk.
"May I help you, sir?" said the clerk, a weedy old man with his few sparse hair arranged artfully atop his egg-domed head.
"Yes, I thought I saw a lady friend going into a room just now, but I didn't want to knock and disturb someone if it wasn't her."
"We don't run that sorta place," the clerk insisted, indignant.
"Of course not!" Tom leaned on the counter and slid a five dollar bill across the greasy surface. "It's room 3-A."
The clerk's eyes darted to the reception book as he pocketed the money. "Mr and Mrs Bill Adams."
Tom pooched out his lips, affecting sadness. "Nope, that's not her. Too bad."
He noticed a payphone stand across the dim lobby. "Thanks," he tossed over his shoulder as he strode to it.
After asking the operator to connect him, he leaned close to the mouthpiece, pressing the earpiece to his ear. "Yeah, it's me." He quickly glanced back at the clerk who made a show of reading a tattered paperback.
"I'm here. Across the street. But so is someone else," he muttered. "Have you noticed anyone watching?"
His voice went up a notch. "Well, Laura Roslin's secretary is, and she's got a boyfriend apparently."
Forcing himself to calm down, he asked, "I don't know what they're up to, but I can't believe she just happened to pick the hotel across the street from our office to have her dirty weekend."
After he heard the reply, he grinned slyly. "I'll stay outside in my car. This bear ain't walking into any trap. He'll wait for the hunter to come out."
*
After Bill and Doral left, the ship's Captain and his First Officer made their apologies, explaining they needed to return to the bridge. Laura suggested that the women could make their way into the Grand Lounge to enjoy after-dinner drinks. Sesha nodded in agreement, like a queen granting the privilege of her company.
Laura jumped up and strode quickly toward the dining room's doorway into the lounge, eager for the opportunity for a more private tete a tete with her old friend. Sesha seemed so unhappy. Not at all like the girl Laura knew from college and the early years of Sesha and Ray's marriage.
Sensing she was alone, she glanced over her shoulder, and blanched at the stony look on her friend’s face. The nurse was pushing Sesha’s wheelchair, struggling to maneuver the large cumbersome apparatus through the dining room tables. She needed to make allowances for Sesha’s moods. It must be so difficult for her.
While waiting, Laura busied herself by ordering them both a drink and lighting a cigarette.
“Nurse Schaffer, I didn't see you eat while we dined. Perhaps you'd like to have some supper while we chat?” Laura offered when the other two women finally arrived at the table.
“I’ll have a cigarette too, Schaffer,” Sesha demanded before the nurse could reply to Laura’s polite suggestion.
The young woman produced a cigarette case and lighter from her tunic’s pocket. “After I’ve retired,” Sesha snapped as she exhaled smoke directly into her employee’s face, “you can eat.”
Paulla dipped her head and nodded before stepping back, awaiting her next instruction.
Laura decided they just needed to talk about happier times. “Emily says hello and hopes you are well,” she said, finishing uncomfortably.
“Oh, that’s right, you’re still paying her after all these years.”
“She’s my secretary, that’s right,” Laura said carefully.
Sesha blew gently on the end of her cigarette, and then flashed Laura a weak smile. “So generous of you, Laura. How long has it been since that Pole she married gambled all their money away and then had the good sense to blow his brains out?”
Laura took a careful breath. "Nearly twenty years."
“But you'd lost contact with her, didn’t you? Before Alex died?”
Laura blinked. What was Sesha suggesting? “Emily was a young mother,” she explained. “She wasn’t in any position to attend charity dinners and nightclub openings.”
"Yes," Sesha drawled. "I can see that you didn't share many interests with her until she needed income and you needed a secretary." There was no mistaking the woman's accusation this time.
“I offered Emily a loan and she refused,” Laura said, flushing red. “She had her pride.”
"True. And a loan would only last for so long. While a twenty-year long position...And I believe you're paying to send both her daughters to Mills."
"Who told you--" Laura asked furiously, then remembered that Sesha was always close with Mimi Chastian, who ran their old college's alumni group.
Sesha reached across the table to squeeze Laura's balled fist with her cold fingers. "You were always so generous, Red," she said warmly, evoking Laura's old nickname that she'd hated passionately.
"Emily has been the generous one," Laura grumbled. "To stick with me all these years." Her doubts about the validity of her friendships rose again, swamping her emotions.
Seeing her distress, Sesha laughed gaily, her good temper apparently returning. She leaned close again.
“You must tell me all the juicy details of what happened when Aunt Katherine heard you had married some scruffy old sailor.”
*
Aaron Doral took one of the thick Cuban cigars from the leather case set out on the table. He took an extra moment to savor its peppery aroma before impatiently clicking his fingers at the lounge's steward, even as the man had been approaching with a pair of cutters and lighter.
“The servants seem awfully slow on this ship,” he complained.
“Crew,” Bill corrected.
Doral waved his hand around indicating there was little difference in his opinion. “Servants are a necessary burden,” he mused.
“A burden?”
“Yes. I find they constantly want to know your business. It’s always of great interest to them. Surely you've noticed this, Adams?”
Bill thought about Elosha and regrettably gave a small nod in agreement--even though he knew Laura’s most trusted servant never had any ignoble intentions.
“It must be the mundane nature of their own lives, I suppose,” Doral added.
“I’m sure that must be what it is,” Bill answered blandly. Bill pulled out his cigarette case and concentrated intently on lighting one.
“But we need them, don’t we?”
“We do? I've survived a lifetime without someone ironing my undershorts. Actually find it kinda annoying, especially when they use too much starch."
Doral laughed, but Bill could see he didn't understand the joke. He exhaled a foul-smelling plume of smoke.
“I say, you’re not smoking a cigar, Adams?” he asked, clearly perturbed by the thought. “They’re complimentary.”
“Laura doesn't like their smell,” Bill explained.
“You don’t need to continue with the act now, Adams! Women aren’t allowed in here, thank god!”
Bill took another long drag of his cigarette before peering over at his companion again. “I wasn’t acting.”
“That’s another thing that we need servants for, right? When the wife has a headache or any other of their many excuses.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you don’t take advantage of their availability? So many young nubile girls come to work, eager to do anything to please the master of the house. It’s just the way things are done. It’s not like women of Sesha or Laura’s age or class are going to give into a red-blooded man’s demands. They don’t see it as normal. Without the servants--”
Bill stood, his chair scraping backward loudly in his rush. “I’m sorry. I just remembered I have to walk the dog.”
“What? See!" Doral waved around the cigar, making Bill's eyes water. "This is just another example! If you’d brought your maid along with you, you could spend more time enjoying yourself and less time having to walk your wife’s mutt.”
His shoulders stiff, Bill left the lounge and its unpleasant occupant. Treading carefully as he walked along the rolling deck, he made his way to the Grand Lounge. The storm was building up; he had to get back to his wife.
Laura's face lit as soon as she spotted him in the doorway. "Honey, I think we should get Mrs Doral back to her cabin--" she called out as he approached.
"I'm having a wonderful time," Sesha said with an unpleasant tone.
He gave her a steely glance. "This storm is getting ready to hit. It would be dangerous for you returning to your stateroom once it gets worse."
"The crew hasn't said anything," she said, still disagreeable.
Laura took Bill's hand and gave it a brief squeeze. He smiled at her again but didn't back down with Mrs Doral. "They should--"
Just then, the Second Officer arrived and called for everyone's attention. "Please return to your cabins immediately. We expect to be under a storm warning from the next hour until further notice. Stewards have already secured the items in your cabins, but please use caution, even in bed."
Laura grinned up at Bill.
Sesha saw this and rolled her eyes. She tossed over her shoulder at her nurse, "All right, Schaffer. Let's get me back to the cabin."
"May I help, Mrs Doral?" Bill asked.
"No, thank you," she said coolly. "That's what the crew is for." Her tone suggested she expected him to start picking up the shifting crockery on the tables, forgetting his new position.
After taking a deep breath, Bill called over two stewards to assist the arrogant woman
Then he helped Laura from her chair. The deck was already beginning to roll. She stumbled into his embrace, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, this is going to be fun," she giggled in his ear.
He gave her bottom a discreet little slap, and lead her to the doorway with the others.
End Chapter Three
A/N: bugs will be going On an Adventure this weekend, so the next chapter will be delayed. Sorry!