She poured the cream languidly into her morning coffee.
What did Mrs. Grover mean, "I've had my eye on you, Mrs. Muir?"
"Coup de foudre, me dear!"
The spoon slipped out of her fingers, clattering rudely onto the saucer, spoiling what remained of her morning solitude.
"Captain Gregg –"
"Ahh, Mrs. Muir. But you spoke first, musing aloud about that old harridan. Under terms of our new rules, I am well within my rights to materialize in the Master Cabin once you've initiated conversation. Surely, Madame, you are awake by now?"
He stood in front of her desk, arms brazenly on his hips and peered closely at her face. "Why, it's almost 9 o'clock and Martha has left for market."
"Your new rules, Captain." She eyed him suspiciously. Had she really spoken aloud or could he read her thoughts? There seemed to be no rules where he was concerned, save one: The mere suggestion of his presence made her feel alive in ways she didn't care to acknowledge.
"What does 'love at first sight' have to do with Mrs. Grover thinking I'm a thief?"
"Why, Mrs. Muir," the Captain purred suavely. "My dear lady, surely you realize even a wizened old air bag such as Mrs. Grover was once young, too, albeit nowhere near as charming as present company. She might be president of the historical society now, but years ago she was a bonnie young lass of 18 with the temerity to board my ship one night, all for an admiring glimpse of my portrait!"
Startled, Carolyn pretended to sip her coffee pensively but wound up coughing over troubling stabs of jealousy. Worse, her eyes shot straight to his, the Captain's face framed perfectly over the rim of her Blue Willow teacup.
"No, my dear. You are not the first."
Carolyn was stunned. So this is how it feels to run aground, she thought – then chastised herself thinking in terms of the Captain's nautical metaphors.
She flushed, and her eyes dropped to her typewriter, where just moments ago she'd inserted a blank white page to celebrate a new day of a new voyage into the fictional life of a woman who stowed away onto a blasted ship –
"Just the only." The keys typed of their own accord and her eyes rose, unbidden and blurred by tears, to his. "Allowed to stay," he whispered.
Downstairs, Martha entered the foyer noisily, calling upstairs for help with the groceries. Somewhere on the beach, the tide began to surge toward the shore again as Carolyn allowed herself to breathe.