“And of course I’m just Carina,” my sister said. “Royal titles are so stuffy, and silly, given we don’t rule over anything anymore.”
Now my sister just sounded like me. I snorted a laugh, but they didn’t notice with my back to them. I turned to walk the glasses over to the love seat, where Carina had taken up residency across from Ben. I wondered if the reason for her sudden practical turn was to impress our guest, who hailed from an egalitarian American ship and was second-in-command in the sanitation department. Regardless, I was pleased.
The sound of someone loudly clearing her throat came from behind me. I turned to find Klara, decked out in a glittering floor-length silver-and-white number, one of her many tiaras sitting upon her golden head; she paused on the threshold as if she expected a trumpet to announce her arrival. Nora did it instead.
“Her Royal Highness, Princess Klara Lind.” Nora’s soft voice barely carried as far as the love seat, not even ten feet from the door, but it was enough. The gentlemen jumped to their feet again, bowing and simpering a greeting, and both of them took Klara’s gloved hand in turn and kissed the back of it.
Elliot caught my eye as he rose from his bow, comically widening his eyes, and I suppressed a giggle behind my cousin’s back.
During all this pomp and circumstance, Nora scurried over to the sideboard and poured a glass of wine for Klara, which she pressed into her hand before retreating from the room. She had likely been instructed by Klara to take over things in the kitchen and serve us at dinner. Shame shot through me as I observed Ben watching her retreat. For all my posturing about royal titles, equality, and inequities in the fleet, I allowed my cousin to treat another human being like an accessory in my own home.
I resolved to invite Nora to join us for dinner, damn the consequences. And I didn’t have to wait long—after a few minutes of painful small talk, Evgenia arrived, breathless and beautiful as always, announcing that dinner was ready and we’d best move off to the dining room before it grew cold. Nora hovered on the sidelines, ready to spring into action.
“Tonight, I bring you a taste of Mother Russia,” Evgenia said with a flourish over the spread. “A variety of pelmeni, or ‘dumplings’ to the uninitiated, as well as stuffed cabbage—a bunch of dishes with cabbage, really—and everything drowning in butter.”
“Nora, please join us. We’ll serve ourselves,” I said, biting the bullet quickly. Klara didn’t dare counter me in front of our guest, though I felt her glare on the back of my neck. But it was worth Ben’s look of relief. Oddly, from Elliot I caught a flicker of doubt. Uncertainty swooped at my insides—did he think I was doing it for brownie points?
We settled into our places, and I found myself at the head of the table, flanked by Ben and Nora, opposite Klara on the other end, who was next to Elliot and Evgenia. Nora made one person too many for the six-person arrangement, but Carina didn’t seem to mind at all squeezing in between Elliot and Ben on the left side of the table.
“I want to hear more about how you met, Elliot and Ben,” Klara said, throwing the first volley my way. As the highest-ranking person here, she saw herself as the hostess for this gathering. I didn’t mind—I was curious too and didn’t want Elliot to think I was overly interested in him or his time away from me.
“When I left the Sofi three years ago, I was accepted onto the Lady Liberty on a work-vacation visa,” Elliot started. “Which meant I could work for six months and enjoy the ship’s amenities, and I was provided free housing with a family who had room to spare.”
“My dad was fascinated to have a displaced Brit, who grew up on a German ship and spent a lot of time on the Scandinavian, living with us. He loved asking questions about life on other ships,” Ben chimed in. He and Elliot shared a grin, a brotherly affection bouncing unspoken between them. Did Elliot really identify as a displaced Brit? That had never come up with us. He’d been born on the Sofi, so it seemed strange.
“I started busing tables; then I waited on them, and eventually I became a line cook.”
“How did you end up in whiskey, then?” Klara asked.
Elliot shrugged. “An opportunity came up with the beverage industry, and I pivoted.”
“Elliot is good at everything he tries.” Ben laughed. “I think my dad preferred him to me.”
“Sounds about right.” Elliot played along.
“Where is your dad now?” Carina asked.
“Oh, he died last year,” Ben said. “There was an accident. Old ships, and all that.”
The mood turned unexpectedly somber. Soon, we broke off into our own little chat clusters, Klara conversing primarily with Elliot and Evgenia, while Ben held court with the rest of us. Carina, Nora, and I were rapt as he regaled us with jokes, ghost stories, and what had to be tall tales about the richest residents of the Lady Liberty. At least I hoped.
I did my best to wing-woman my sister, turning fully to Nora to engage her in conversation as we served ourselves dessert. I hoped it would leave Ben and Carina to have some one-on-one time, which I could sense she craved.
“Tell me more about yourself, Nora,” I said, attempting to sound casual. She shot me a skeptical look. I lowered my voice. “I wanted to give them a moment to themselves. So, just making conversation.” I indicated my sister and Ben, and Nora nodded knowingly.
“Love is in the air, it would seem.” Her words dripped with sarcasm as she shot a look at Klara batting her eyelashes at Elliot while he regaled her with some story. My eyes darted down the table, but I didn’t allow myself to linger. I wanted to watch Nora and her reaction.
“I don’t think she even likes him that much,” she said, keeping her voice conspiratorially low. No hint of jealousy. “But her mother has turned up the heat on the marriage conversation, and he stands to inherit a very useful ship.”
“And he’s a good match politically, as well,” I added. “Has she mentioned anything about challenging her mother for captainship?”
“If anyone should be marrying Elliot and challenging the captain, it’s not your cousin.”
“Excuse me?”
Nora raised an eyebrow in judgment. “The thing about being invisible to most people is you observe a lot.” Then she frowned, leaned in very close, and husked into my ear. “But that said, do not under any circumstances challenge your aunt. She’ll cut you down where you stand. I’ve given your cousin the same advice, gentle as I could. Same with him. You do not want to get involved in what Elliot’s got going on.”
“What do you mean?”
But Nora was done speaking on the subject. She asked Ben an innocuous question, opening us up to group conversation again, and the moment passed. I, however, was stuck. Unsettled. What did she know about my family that I didn’t? What did Nora know about Elliot? The sweet cake I’d been chewing suddenly tasted like ash; the Versailles red was bitter as I washed it down.
“None of us are drunk enough!” Evgenia proclaimed, toasting us with an empty glass. Come to think of it, she’d been drinking a lot during dinner. “Shall we adjourn to the study for more drinks and deeper conversation? We came all the way here for nothing, so we might as well have fun.”
Elliot shot her a look the meaning of which I couldn’t decipher, but then he rose from his seat. We followed him to the study, where in very short order a bottle of whiskey appeared and music was put on. An artificial fire roared in the decorative fireplace, and I calculated the energy cost. Then I chided myself for it, taking a hearty sip of my drink. This whole trip was beyond our means. I would never make the sums square.