Isabella was having tea with Cassie Chan Johnson, the Countess of Rothes, a 35ish Chinese blue blood with patrician features. Isabella saw someone coming across the room and lowered her voice.
"Oh no, that vulgar Brown woman is coming this way. Get up, quickly before she sits with us."
Dana Mitchell walked up, greeting them cheerfully as they were rising. "Hello girls, I was hoping I'd catch you at tea."
"We're awfully sorry you missed it. The Countess and I are just off to take the air on the boat deck," Isabella lied, hoping to make the woman leave.
"That sounds great. Let's go. I need to catch up on the gossip."
Isabella gritted her teeth as the three of them headed for the Grand Staircase to go up. As they crossed the room, Anton Ismay and Captain Mitchell were at another table.
"So you've not lit the last four boilers then?" Ismay questioned.
"No, but we are making excellent time," Mitchell answered with a little smile.
"Captain, the press knows the size of Titanic, let them marvel at her speed too. We must give them something new to print. And the maiden voyage of Titanic must make headlines!" Anton argued impatiently.
"I prefer not to push the engines until they have been properly run in," Mitchell replied.
"Of course I leave it to your good offices to decide what's best, but what a glorious end to your last crossing if we get into New York Tuesday night and surprised them all," he slapped his hand on the table, "Retire with a bang, eh, E.J?"
Splinter nodded, stiffly.
Kevin and Mia wandered around the first class deck, Mia quickly feeling more comfortable with Kevin. She knew that she was destined to marry Jayden, but there was something about Kevin that made her want to start anew like he had. They strolled past people lounging on deck chairs in the slanting late-afternoon light. Stewards scurried to serve tea or hot cocoa.
"You know, my dream has always been to just chuck it all and become an artist...living in a garret, poor but free!" Mia sounded girlish and excited.
Kevin laughed, patting her on the head. "You wouldn't last two days. There's no hot water, and hardly ever any caviar."
Mia got angry in a flash at that. "Listen, buster...I hate caviar! And I'm tired of people dismissing my dreams with a chuckle and pat on the head."
"I'm sorry. Really...I am."
"Well, alright. There's something in me, Kevin. I feel it. I don't know what it is, whether I should be an artist, or, I don't know...a dancer. Like Isadora Duncan...a wild pagan spirit," she leaped forward, landing deftly and whirling like a dervish. Then she saw something ahead and her face lit up. "...Or a moving picture actress!"
She took his hand and ran, pulling him along the deck toward-
Noah and Emma Goodall. Noah was cranking the big wooden movie camera as she posed stiffly at the rail. "You're sad. Sad, sad, sad. You've left your lover on the shore. You may never see him again. Try to be sadder, darling."
Suddenly Kevin shot into the shot and struck a theatrical pose at the rail next to Emma, who burst out laughing. Mia pulled Kevin into the picture and made him pose.
Noah grinned, starting to yell and gesture.
Kevin posed tragically at the rail, the back of her hand to her forehead.
Kevin was on a deck chair, pretending to be a Pasha, the two girls pantomiming fanning like slave girls.
Kevin, on his knees, was pleading with his hands clasped while Mia, standing, turned her head in boredom and disdain.
Mia cranked the camera while Noah and Kevin had a western shoot-out. Kevin won and leered into the lens, twirling an air mustache like Snidely Whiplash.
Painted with orange light, Kevin and Mia leaned on the A deck rail aft, shoulder to shoulder. The ship's lights came on. It was a magical moment...perfect.
"So then what, Mr. Wandering Kevin?"
"Well, then logging got to be too much like work, so I went down to Los Angeles to the pier in Santa Monica. That's a swell place, they even have a rollercoaster. I sketched portraits there for ten cents a piece," he explained.
"A whole ten cents?!" Mia asked in surprise.
Kevin didn't seem to get it, though, "Yeah; it was great money...I could make a dollar a day, sometimes. Butonly in summer. When it got cold, I decided to go to Paris and see what the real artists were doing."
Mia looked at the dusk sky. "Why can't I be like you, Kevin? Just head out for the horizon whenever I feel like it," she turned to him. "Say we'll go there, sometime...to that pier...even if we only ever just talk about it."
"Alright, we're going. We'll drink cheap beer and go on the rollercoaster until we throw up and we'll ride horses on the beach...right in the surf...but you have to ride like a cowboy, none of that side-saddle stuff."
"You mean one leg on each side? Scandalous! Can you show me?" She replied curiously.
"Sure. If you like," he offered.
Mia smiled, "I think I would." She looked at the horizon. "And teach me to spit too. Like a man. Why should only men be able to spit. It's unfair."
"They didn't teach you that in finishing school? Here, it's easy. Watch closely." He spat and it arched out over the water. "Your turn."
Mia screwed up her mouth and spat. A pathetic little bit of spittle which mostly ran down her chin before falling off into the water.
"Nope, that was pitiful. Here, like this...you hawk it down...HHHNNNK...then roll it up your tongue, up to the front, like thith, then a big breath and PLOOOW! You see the range on that thing?"
She went through the steps. Hawked it down, etc. He coached her through it while doing the steps himself. She let it fly. So did he. Two comets of gob fly out over the water.
"That was great!" He told her.
Mia turned to him, her face alight. Suddenly she blanched. He saw her expression and turned.
Isabella, the Chinese Countess of Rothes, and Dana Mitchell had been watching them hawking lugees. Mia instantly became composed. "Mother, may I introduce Kevin Douglas."
"Charmed, I'm sure." Kevin had a little spit running down his chin. He didn't know it, though. Dana Mitchell grinned. Mia proceeded with the introductions.
"Mother...may I introduce Kevin Douglas."
Isabella looks at Kevin with a cold expression.
"The others were gracious and curious about the man who'd saved my life. But my mother looked at like an insect. A dangerous insect which must be squashed quickly."
"Charmed, I'm sure." Dana indicated to her mouth and Kevin wiped down his saliva.
"Well, Kevin, it sounds like you're a good man to have around in a sticky spot-"
They all jumped as a bugler sounded the meal call right behind them, interrupting Dana. "Why do they insist on always announcing dinner like a damn cavalry charge?" Dana muttered.
"Shall we go dress, Mother?" Mia suggested, looking over her shoulder. "See you at dinner, Kevin."
As they walked away, Isabella scolded her daughter. "Mia, look at you...out in the sun with no hat. Honestly!"
The Countess exited with Mia and Isabella, leaving Kevin and Irma alone on deck.
"Son, do you have the slightest comprehension of what you're doing?" Dana asked.
"Not really," Kevin answered honestly.
"Well, you're about to go into the snakepit. I hope you're ready. What are you planning to wear?"
Kevin looked down at his clothes before back at her. He hadn't thought about that.
"I figured."
In Dana's stateroom, men's suits and jackets and formal wear are strewn all over the place. Dana was having a fine time, especially since she had finally found something to fit the turtle. Kevin was dressed, except for his jacket, and Dana was tying his bow tie.
"Don't feel bad about it. My husband still can't tie one of these damn things after 20 years. There you go."
She picked up a jacket off the bed and handed it to him. Kevin went into the bathroom to put it on. Dana started picking up the stuff off the bed. "I gotta buy everything in three sizes 'cause I never know how much he's been eating while I'm away."
She turned and saw him. "My, my, my...you shine up like a new penny."