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juice in stemmed glasses, filling cups with coffee and hot tea.
    I stared at a window to see the promised beauty of nature outside. I spied pale blue water with dark mountainous land beyond. Today we would be heading into a spectacular setting, Glacier Bay. Nothing yet broke my sour mood. I did not want to take part in more conversation with people I sat near.
    Chatter at our table kept up, mainly between Randy and Jane. They spoke of jobs they’d had or still had, and marriages and kids and grandkids. Once they reached the ages of their offspring and how terrific the little ones were, I grew extra antsy. I knew my children and grandchildren were the best but wouldn’t take away my friends’ praises of their own.
    Sue made furtive glances in all directions and appeared agitated. I had no idea why, except that she mustn’t have married and, even with the sex change, certainly couldn’t carry children. Hearing all the talk about others’ families might hurt her.
    “I hope they take our order soon,” I said. “I guess they’re a little slow since so many people are coming in at one time. I’ve been on a few cruises, and most people eat at the buffets in the morning.”
    “I’m getting kind of hungry myself,” Jane said.
    “After all you ate last night?” Sue asked, tone annoyed.
    “We all ate like it was our last meal,” I said, wondering why she was so irritated.
    Randy sat so close to Tetter, their arms pressed together. She didn’t seem to notice. She did not shift her arm away but kept an intent look at my face, as though deeply engrossed in what I was saying.
    With my mind soothed from my encounter with Gil, I considered how to handle a new concern. I watched passing waiters. Most looked like they were on their first voyage, learning from those with more experience. I spied one with an assured countenance and waved him over.
    “Ma’am, can I do something for you?” he asked, bending toward me.
    “You certainly can. I need to know what happened to the man who fell in the stairwell out there last night.”
    Sue sucked in a loud gulp of air.
    The waiter straightened. “I am sorry. I do not know.”
    “You don’t know, or you aren’t supposed to tell? We met him. We know he died. I need to know what caused his death,” I insisted.
    Sue grimaced. Others at our table looked merely inquisitive.
    “Please tell me what happened,” I said to the waiter.
    “I am sorry. I do not have that information.”
    I thanked him, ignored Sue’s angry expression, and considered who else I might try to pry that information from.
    Tapping on a microphone in the center of the room created strident noises that claimed our attention. Our tuxedo-clad maître d’ stepped to the mike.
    “Good morning. I hope all of you enjoyed your first night aboard.” A smattering of people clapped. “You will enjoy wonderful foods from throughout the world during your stay with us. I would like to introduce you to the man responsible for all of those meals. Please welcome our Executive Chef, Mr. Andrew Sandkeep.”
    A husky man wearing all white, including his tall straight chef’s hat, strode forward. People applauded. The Executive Chef took the mike. “I hope you enjoyed your first meal,” he said with an accent I couldn’t place.
    We clapped to show our appreciation for the food his cooks prepared.
    “We have a treat for you,” he said, although he did not look extra pleased. “This ship has invited a celebrity chef, a man that we are sure you will all appreciate. The person who brought him here will introduce this chef to us. Please welcome Mr. Gil Thurman.”
    My heart lurched.
    Gil stepped up to the microphone.
    My tablemates flung gazes at me. I kept my chin up and tried not to react, although I felt my cheeks flame. Gil came on this ship for a reason, a reason that didn’t include me?
    “Thank you,” he said after people clapped. “I’m not a chef. I don’t even know how to boil eggs.”
    Many laughed. Yes, Gil,