The next morning, Francis again knocked on Laura’s door. He was holding a silver tray. “Good morning, Laura. Always a pleasure to see you.”

“Morning, Francis.” She took the tray with both hands. “How’s the ocean treating you?”

“A cruel mistress.” He smiled. His dimples beamed. “Oh. I have a message for you.” He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out an ecru colored envelope. He bowed slightly. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

She pushed her laptop aside and set down the tray on her coffee table. There was a carafe of coffee, a croissant, and a small glass of fresh orange juice. Next to the croissant were small ramekins of butter and jam. Her balcony door was cracked open. It was enough to hear the steady sound of waves and get a cool breeze. She could smell the salty marine air. She sat down and leaned back. Some fresh coffee that someone else made, and the sound of the ocean. Life wasn’t bad.

She poured a cup of coffee into the delicate white mug. Steam swirled above it. The room filled with the roasted, comforting smell. She pulled a card out of the small envelope from Francis and opened it. It was on embossed Cecaelia letterhead. It read:

Please join me for lunch, Captain’s orders.

I can walk you to the Officer’s mess. I’ll stop by your room at noon.

XOXO, secret admirer

P.S., Did you know captains actually can’t officiate legally binding weddings?

We were lied to by so many bad movies.

Laura smiled. Helen had always been reserved and formal when she was speaking, but it was like twisting her arm to get her to write a serious letter. She had to talk her down from canceling their cable service with a sappy love letter once.

Laura sipped her coffee. It was piping hot. She used the knife to split her croissant, and spread butter and jam inside. She took a bite. It was surprisingly good. Light, flaky, and nicely browned. She shouldn’t be surprised that a ship for this kind of guest would have a good pastry chef, but she was thankful for it. She opened her laptop, and sat down to work.

A few hours later, Laura’s eyes were bleary. She had been trying to keep up on her mounting email inbox. Her growing company had a few large contracts, and a few more in the funnel. Each of them had a flurry of tasks to get them sold, done, and billed. She felt the tension in her shoulders and rolled them to try to stretch. On cue, there was a knock on the door.

Laura opened it. Helen was standing there, framed perfectly in the doorway. Her uniform was white and neatly pressed. She smiled broadly. “Hello, Laura. Ready for lunch?”

“Very.”

“Awesome. I know a spot. I know it because I have to eat there every day.”

Laura smirked. “Wow. Mandatory. That’s high praise.”

“Okay, fine. It’s not mandatory. But you’ll be pleasantly surprised. I hope at least.” She tilted her head down the hall. “This way.”

They walked down the hall to the bank of elevators. They followed it up a few decks, then got off. They walked to one of the main dining rooms. The hall was full with couples and families lining up for lunch reservations. They cut through the line, and found the side entry to a staircase. In the middle was another bank of elevators. Below the call button, there was a gray plastic sensor. Helen tapped her Amulet against it, and the call button lit up green. She tapped it and the doors opened.

One floor above, they made their way out of the staircase to the area directly above the passenger dining room. It looked like the officers’ dining room had been built directly above. It was a study in contrasts. The passenger dining room was filled with large round tables with white tablecloths. The officers’ mess was made up of orderly rows of benches and white quartz tables. The tables and benches were blonde plywood, and the carpet was a solid forest green. At the center of each table were small flower arrangements in square glass vases. Laura thought the overall effect was like a deluxe IKEA cafeteria. Communal, bright, Scandinavian, and clean.

Helen gestured to a table. There were no name placards. They took seats across from each other. Helen leaned forward and cupped Laura’s hand in hers. She looked her directly in the eyes with an unusual directness. “I am SO glad you are here. Honestly.”

Laura was surprised. Helen’s hands were comforting and warm. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

“No, really.” Said Helen. “It means a lot.”

Laura smiled. She and Helen had been inseparable in College. They started as dorm roommates, assigned at random by the University’s ancient computer system. They immediately hit it off. Laura remembered feeling like she’d known Helen for a million years the first time they met. The conversation was so easy and comfortable. They had stayed roommates in their first off campus apartment. An old brick building with shoddy maintenance but beautiful hardwood parquet floors.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

After school, though, they had drifted apart. Laura’s time in the FBI and Helen’s service in the Navy took them to a million and one permutations of bases and field offices. It was impossible to keep up.

Laura remembered getting a post card delivered from Sasebo, Japan all the way to her office in Albuquerque. It was a crazed mess of stamps and markings. One side showed a long, graceful arched bridge. It was labeled the ‘Albuquerque Bridge.” Laura’s eyebrows had wrinkled in confusion. She remembered Helen’s scrawled message.

Happy moving in

With you anniversary.

You are a good friend.

That’s a little Haiku for you. Remember being scared Freshman

all those years ago? Now we’re all over the world kicking ass.

P.S. Albuquerque and Sasebo are sister cities. Isn’t that neat?!!

I got to stand on a bridge that’s a little slice of Albuquerque. We’re still connected.

Helen had asked Laura to be her maid of honor. She had happily accepted. Years later, when Helen had children, they drifted apart again. They rarely spoke now.

A waiter walked over and handed them a simple paper menu. They both nodded their thanks. “Any drinks for you?”

Laura ordered a coffee, and Helen a hot green tea. They heard the susurrus of gentle conversation filling the dining room. Officers in crisp uniforms were filtering in. Many nodded or waved at Helen as they arrived. There was a magnetism around her. A gravitational pull.

Helen leaned forward conspiratorially. “They all have to say hello to the Captain.”

Laura smiled. “I still can’t believe it. Not that you aren’t amazing, naturally.”

Helen shrugged. “I feel the same way, sometimes. Some days I wake up and I feel like I’m the same scared teenager inside, looking out.” She sat up straight. “But then I remember the time I put in. Ten years in the Navy. I liked to tell people it was like riding a bike.” She pantomimed a stick figure kicking its legs across the table. “You fall, jam the handlebars straight in the crotch and scrape your elbows.” She jammed her stick figure into the opposite hand’s pointer finger. “Then you get back on and say ‘please, sir, can I ride again?’”

Laura chucked. “I get that.”

“Yeah. So, this is my reward.” She spread her hands. “It’s a beautiful ship. It’s a good crew. And I get to sail from home most of the year. So, I’m not gone for months at a time.”

“That’s a nice thing.”

“Sure as hell is. Alex is happy.”

“And you got a little press, yourself. You’re honestly a celebrity now.”

Helen waved the comment away. “Whatever. But thanks. A couple trade journals wrote a puff piece about a young woman captain. Not that it doesn’t matter. It’s still a boys’ club, so I’m glad I get to show women it can be done. But, it’s not as big a deal as they made it out to be.”

“You’re modest. But that’s a good thing, I guess.”

The waiter returned with their drinks. The mugs were straight walled and glossy white. Laura wrapped her hand around hers, and felt the reassuring warmth. “So, why am I really here?”

Helen’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean?”

“Well. You have a security crew. Why bring me on? I’m not complaining about the views, to be clear. Or seeing you! This is nice.”

Helen leaned back and stared out the window for a moment. Outside, they could see the bulk of Vancouver island. Tree covered, and shrouded in misty fog. “Sure. We have security people. But, Blue Peter is new at running a ship this large. The company came up running small pleasure boat tours between the Greek islands. They spent a few decades buying larger and larger ships and building up their reputation. They tried to turn from booze cruises to regional luxury tours, all the way to a full fledged cruise ship.”

Laura nodded. “Can’t be easy to do.”

“Near impossible. The big players like Danish, Superstar, and Monarch have been doing this for decades. They aren’t too happy to have an upstart. Especially one in a nuclear powered ship, designed by Philippe Sharpe.”

“It really is gorgeous.”

“Damn straight it is. Anyway, a lot of people are cranky about it. Other cruise lines, environmentalists, and who knows who else. And the security team is new. They’re fantastic, but there aren’t other cruise ships in this fleet for them to train on. It’s a fleet of one, really.”

Helen paused, and blew on her tea to cool it. Steam trailed away. She took a sip slowly. “I guess, what I really want, is the cry test.”

“Oh god.”

“No, I’m being serious.”

“It’s been ages since anyone talked about the cry test.”

“Is it still operational?”

Laura chuckled sardonically. “Locked and loaded.” The cry test was Laura’s mother’s name for her intuitive gift. Laura was empathetic, and saw the emotion in everything. Laura could meet a person, or see a situation, and sometimes she’d start to tear up. Her family would tell her about a new relationship, or a new apartment, or a new car, and ask if it passed the ‘cry test.’

“I’m not being shitty. Seriously. You’re intuitive. I want you to give me a gut check. Are we doing anything really wrong?”

The waiter returned. Laura ordered a shrimp pasta, and Helen a caesar salad. Helen took another long sip of her tea. “I want to know if we have any tiny ironing boards.”

“Oh christ. It’s been ages since I thought about that thing. Thanks for that.”

“Sorry. Couldn’t help it.”

Laura hadn’t always connected with her mother very well. There wasn’t bad blood there, but they just weren’t always speaking the same language. Her mother hadn’t gone to college. When Laura left for her dorm, her mother had bought her the best thing she knew. She knew Laura wanted to be taken seriously as a young professional. She bought her an clothes iron, and a tiny ironing board, the size of a shirt sleeve. Because the dorms were small, she reasoned. It had been such a heady combination of thoughtful, misguided, and human. Sitting cross legged on her dorm bed, Laura had looked at the tiny ironing board and sobbed.